He was right. I have no idea what anything in that notebook meant. Damn you, Tristan Johnson.

I spent the majority of last night trying to figure out what all the color coded numbers and symbols meant. There were no headings, no side notes. Just numbers and a few doodles that I am still unsure if they hold any meaning or Tristan was just bored. Eventually, I gave up and put the notebook in the top kitchen drawer cabinet next to the sink. Tristan had left a note with instructions on where to keep it so Uncle Luke could find it the next morning. I guess Tristan told him that he would somehow get it into the house. I am also guessing he did not inform my uncle that I was granted an opportunity to look at the notebook's contents. I am also guessing that I am not allowed to say one word to Uncle Luke about that.

Tristan, of course, picked me up for school this morning. And, of course, he already somehow knew that I had failed at trying to insert myself into the secretive business between him and Uncle Luke. He exuded smugness the entire drive. It was so unbearable that even the delicious coffee he had made me didn't provide any comfort.

School was boring. It seemed like everyone was either too tired for trying to study for midterms or extremely on edge awaiting an invite from The Underground. The day passed by without any. Tomorrow is supposed to be the third installment of the Halloween parties, yet not a single person received a text. Maybe The Underground is delaying the messages for suspense? Probably something to do with the theme, as Nicole suggested at lunch. She has been waiting for a "come as your favorite villain from a slasher movie" theme. Apparently, she still has a lot of fake blood left over from the year she dressed up as Carrie.

School just let out, and still no text. Disappointed students filed out of the building, some with a little hope left in them that their presumptuous weekend plans wouldn't be ruined. Those oblivious to The Underground chattered excitedly about some costume house parties or relaxing night in, others groaned about how much more studying they needed to get done before Monday. Tristan, Nicole, Nate, and I took a walk to Main Street to grab some food and then head to a movie.

"I know we just barely started our day of no studying and murder board stuff," Nicole says as she pays for her candy and cookies.

"Investigation board," I remind her.

"Yeah whatever," she says dismissively. "I know we haven't even decided what movie we want to see, but I really don't want to have to go home and do nothing after this. We should have a sleepover or something so tomorrow morning we can all study together and then get ready to go to The Underground."

"That's actually not a bad idea," I say, thinking about it. "We could do my house since we've been at your place this entire week. I'm sure my aunt and uncle won't mind if I just let them know. I have a bunch of board games we could play, plus Aunt Clara just made a lot of lasagna and she's been begging me to finish it so she can make room in the fridge for something else."

"I'm in," Nate agrees. "But only if I get to pick what movie we watch right now."

"I'm in if Nate doesn't get to pick the movie we watch," Tristan jokes. "Sorry man, but you have terrible taste."

"Yeah, all you want to watch is sport related stuff!" Nicole exclaims. "It's so boring. Like we get it, they're an underdog team and they're going to improve after struggling a lot and then the coach gives an inspiring speech and people cry and eventually they become fan favorites and win whatever the hell it is they're competing in. It's the same plot over and over again!"

"How is that any better than the same three chick flicks you watch? You never pick anything new," Nate counters.

"Leila, please help me out here!" Nicole whines before popping a gummy bear in her mouth.

I shake my head and stuff an entire twizzler in my face, refusing to comment on the situation. No way was I going to tell both of them that they are terrible at choosing movies.

"How about we let the person selling the tickets pick a movie for us? That way it's fair and if we hate it, then we can blame them," Tristan suggests.

"I am so glad we decided to extend an invitation to our group to a rational and level headed person," Nate says, gesturing towards Tristan. "My man here has the perfect solution to everything!"

"I wouldn't say that," Tristan says quietly under his breath, but I still catch it since he says it while looking directly at me.

Ignoring that, despite it sending a small chill down my spine, I lead everyone out of the shop and start walking towards the movie theater down the street. It's a cute retro-looking building, original marque signs still displaying the few movies that were showing that day. The whole place, even the street right outside the doors, smells like buttery popcorn. The ticket seller booth is outside, kind of like you see in the movies set in small towns, but can never find in the real world. It's quaint, the kind of place you can escape to for a couple of hours.

Nicole walks up to the guy selling the tickets and asks him what movie they should see. The poor boy, probably a freshman at our school, gets confused and flustered because he think Nicole is talking about them two.

"I'm not asking you out," she sighs, shaking her head slightly and then letting out a soft giggle. "You're cute, but I have a girlfriend. I meant what movie should me and my friends see? We can't decide."

After the realization hits him, the guy blushes and starts rambling off his recommendations. While Nicole desperately tries to explain that he needs to just pick a movie for them and not give options, the rest of us hang back and watch the chaos unfold.

Tristan takes me hand in his, but quickly releases it when his phone chimes. Then my phone chimes, and soon follow Nicole and Nate's phones. A text from The Underground.

"Are you joking!" Nicole practically screams, scaring the ticket seller. She rushes back to us and shoves her screen in our faces. "Are you guys seeing this?"

We all look down at our own phones and silently read the message:

The Underground will not be open tomorrow night. Do not show up to the club. Management is restructuring the facilities and staff, so all expected Halloween festivities are being suspended until further notice.

"There are only two more parties left for Halloween! They can't suspend them indefinitely! The next guaranteed theme parties won't be until Christmas and who knows if they'll even be opening for that now!" Nicole starts ranting. None of us interrupt her.

And there was no way in hell I was going to tell her that I was relieved I didn't have to go back there for a bit. The attack from last weekend is still on my mind and I don't think I could have handled being in the club again, even with that guy being held in jail. There was no trial scheduled for my case: turns out, the guy who tried to assault me last Saturday was a recently registered sex offender and had someone left his home without his parole officer noticing. How he got into the actual club, no one knows. I would hope The Underground, being as exclusive as it claims to be, would send out invites to known sex offenders when it's an underaged club to begin with.

The point is, I am not ready to go back there.

Tristan seemed to understand this without me having to voice it; it just took one look at my face for him to put his phone away, reclaim my hand, and lead us towards the still flustered ticket seller to ask for any movie of his choice.