66

ASHTON

"We're leaving," I declared, my voice filled with a mix of excitement and disbelief. It was finally happening, not some distant fantasy but a real-life event. The surroundings painted a picturesque scene as six inches of snow covered the empty parking lot outside the Food Lion. In the storage bays of our parked tour bus, I struggled to fit in the tenth suitcase.

Around me, Security Force Omega buzzed with energy, communicating through their microphones and transporting cases of water, beer, soda, and other supplies. My four cousins scurried on and off the sleek black sleeper bus, carrying snacks and pillows.

The paparazzi, who had relentlessly followed our families to Philadelphia, were nowhere to be seen. They likely assumed we were with our relatives, unaware