Do it, the voice in my head repeats. I sit up in bed. Do it. The room is completely silent. The moon illuminates the shadows, creating wisps of gray figures dancing on the walls. I look around, visualizing the 12 boys crammed together in four small, three-person bunk beds. Each breath is a stab of pain reverberating through my body. Do it, the voice whispers again. The smell of mold and dust fills the room, making my lungs burn as I breathe in and out. I reach up and touch the ceiling. The cool styrofoam is light and flat, almost like cardboard.

Do it. I slowly peel back the covers of my bed, looking around the room for signs of life. Silence. The window is slightly ajar, and cool air surrounds my body. I hear a door close somewhere inside the building. Footsteps climb the stairs.

“Do it now,” a voice whispers. This voice isn’t inside my head. I look to the right and see a boy staring at me. Ethan’s blue eyes bring the ocean into the room. Suddenly, my shivering stops. Ethan nods. “Do it now!”

I reach for the ceiling again. I lift up the styrofoam, creating a black hole. I meet Ethan’s eyes again. He smiles and his perfect white teeth shine in the otherwise bleak room. I stand on my bed, making no noise. I lift my arms into the black hole, and enter.

My head passes into the portal. The air conditioner sounds loud and metallic. One leg, then the other, and I’m inside the ceiling. I take a step to test the sturdiness of the styrofoam ceiling tile. It holds. I take another step, then another, going in the direction of the other room. The air conditioner suddenly stops its hum, and I’m shivering all over again. My heart feels like it’s smashing my chest. I can barely breathe.

Do it. The voice in my head returns. I keep walking toward the shouts and laughter and light. I visualize the startled faces when I reach the other room. I let out a menacing laugh, which echoes in the barren space.

Suddenly, the light comes into full view. I hear cheers and laughter. I look down. The light is illuminating my feet. I have arrived at my destination.

I get to my hands and knees, careful to remain silent. Slowly, I lift a styrofoam tile. Light shines in the black hole, creating a halo of illumination in the darkness. A scene suddenly unfolds in front of me.

Below, people are carrying drinks and snacks. Tables are filled with dishes, meat, and cheese. Someone looks up, and I crouch down out of sight so fast a crack forms in the tile under my feet. As I watch the party below me, I’m unaware that cracks are slowly spreading through the tile I’m perched on.

I position myself so my chest is on the edge of the tile and my head is just below the surface of the ceiling, and watch. Meanwhile, the cracks are growing, sending small chips of styrofoam to the ground below. I notice particles of gray in the otherwise blood red bowl of fruit punch.

I stand up quickly, and cracks ripple through the tile. All of a sudden I am sitting on the ground. Shocked faces stare down at me and gasps fill the room. Then grins appear on familiar faces, and Jack says, “Nice entrance, Taco.” He high-fives me and hands me a cup of fruit punch.

Back in ninth grade, I was sitting in my fifth-period Spanish class waiting as the class went down the line and introduced themselves. I was one of the last, and it was my first day. The teacher asked what my favorite food was. “I like tacos,” I said nervously. Everybody laughed, and that’s how I got the nickname Taco.

The night goes on as my friends and I talk and dance until the sun starts to rise. “Come on,” Patrick says. We all dash out of the room, taking two steps at a time up the winding staircase until we reach our rooms. As we part, Jack says, “Hope you had fun. We’d love to see you tomorrow.”

I grin. “Thanks. I’ll see if I can make it.” I tip-toe to our door, careful to remain silent because the room should be full of sleeping boys. But when I enter, the room is pandemonium. Josh and Jacob are fighting over a bag of candy. Oliver and Quinn are dancing. The only one who is quiet is Ethan, who sits on his bed reading. When I walk in, Ethan looks up and grins. I squeeze through the traffic and reach his bed. “How was the party?” he asks.

I look at the room around me, thinking about the night before, and then I remember Ethan’s voice from the darkness. “Do it now,” he had said. Ethan knew the whole time. Yet, now that I think about it, I don’t remember ever telling him about the party. “Well, I guess you could say it had its ups and downs. But in the end it was a lot of fun.”

  • • •

I open my yearbook, glancing at the comments section where the tenth grade signed their names. Summer went by quickly, and school will be starting in a couple days. One comment rises above the others. Jack signed his name, but under it he had written a note. “Wild party, Taco. Thanks for dropping in.” I laugh and close my yearbook, putting it back in the chest with all my memories. I lock the chest, and with it my past, and begin stuffing my backpack with school supplies.

“I’m ready,” I say. Ready for my next adventure, wherever that may be.