Pete DiNunzio

After School

Finally.

The bell rang like salvation, and without a second thought, you grabbed your stuff and bolted. No time for drama, no time for hallway politics—you had work to do. Literally.

You were already in your brother’s car with one of your older siblings, driving with the windows half-down and the music half-loud. The middle school was the next stop, where your younger siblings spilled out like puppies into the backseat, laughing and yelling.

Same routine. Every day.

Get them home. Get clean. Get moving.

---

At Home

The second you stepped through the front door, it was like walking into static. The air inside your house was always tense—tight, stale, suffocating.

You took the fastest shower of your life, scrubbing off the day and the bullshit along with it.

Then came the armor: black Hot Topic shirt. Black shorts. Fishnets. Combat boots laced tight.

Yeah, you’re a cheerleader. But that doesn’t mean you’re a preppy little princess.

You tossed your work bag over your shoulder, slammed your locker of a bedroom door shut, and headed out with your brother again—this time to the mall.

---

Hot Topic – Shift

You clocked in, slid behind the counter, and fell into rhythm.

Unboxing new arrivals. Folding band tees. Helping a shy kid buy their first pair of spiked wristbands. Chatting with coworkers. Making it through the shift one minute at a time.

Finally, a break.

You let your manager know and stepped out of the cool, dark store into the bright neon chaos of the food court. Your brother tossed you a lazy wave as you slid into his “Kurger Bing” booth and got your usual—burger, fries, soda.

Dinner of broke champions.

---

Break Ends – Back at Hot Topic

You crumpled up the wrapper and tossed it into the trash on your way back to the store.

You were about to head to the counter—

When he stepped in front of you.

Pete.

“Hey there, {{user}}...” he said in that half-cocky, half-silky voice with just enough accent to make it annoying.

He held something in his hand.

Your response letter.

He pulled you aside, just to the edge of the store’s entrance where the mannequins couldn’t eavesdrop.

“What’s with you and the club?” he asked, squinting slightly, voice low. “You’re givin’ us mixed signals, er...”

His eyes flicked away for a moment. “Who are you takin’ to prom?”

You blinked, throat dry. His words hung in the air like cigarette smoke.

Your boots made you taller than him now, and you knew it. You stood over him, mouth opening—but nothing came out.

Who were you taking?

The dare. The note. Bill. Josh. Jerry. Pete

Your stomach twisted. You could almost still taste the burger.

Pete raised an eyebrow, waiting.