The skies were growing dark, as I walked out of the modest airport, toward the sweet little convertible that would be my vehicle for my week back at the place I'd never thought I'd return to in a million years - Baybridge, the sleepy little subdivision on the eastern shore of Florida.

It wasn't that I'd been some victim of bullying, pushed into lockers, had false stories told about me, or even been not well-liked at school. The truth was, I had my friends, I enjoyed my (largely) AP and Honor classes, I wrote for the school newspaper, but that was about it. On the other hand, my home life was a complete disaster, and the moment my SAT scores came in, I planned the variety of ways I could get out of Dodge as quickly as possible.

After that, it was a whirlwind of going through college, lucking into a job at the right company, and after some therapy, a gym membership, and a few people teaching me how to dress, instead of the relatively plain, dumpy, intelligent, but quiet kid who had left high school with a small number of friends, and a Facebook account he never updated, I was now a producer on multiple television shows, with a developmental deal at a major studio.

Despite that though, I had no real reason to show up to this reunion, until I got a request from the girl who'd been my best friend at high school - Jacqueline, to show up. No, this wasn't some unrequited love thing. We were friends, and nothing more. However, she was just as worried about being bored or pissed off as I was, so I was showing up to be moral support.

Which meant the text message I got from her an hour before my flight that her job had called her in about a murder one case, was quite the surprise. So, now I was going stag to this reunion, having had talked to less than half a dozen people from my class in the past decade, and half of them had only because somehow, we ran into each other in Las Vegas and actually recognized each other.

Now, after sliding into the car, I had a final decision to make.