Cemetery

I was 15 years old when our youth group from church decided to have a hayride. We were all to meet at a farm, go on a hayride, have some refreshments then go home. I got there early, then Karen came with Roz. There were three guys there, too - Richard, Hal and I think his name was Matt. The guys saw a cemetery across the street and invited us girls to go with them.
We hesitated. None of us was too brave, but in the end we were persuaded to go with them into the cemetery.
The girls all walked in a tight bunch and the guys told scary stories of dead people rising from their graves. We were in the middle of the cemetery when one of the guys pointed to a grave and screamed. They all took off running, screaming and laughing. We all took off, too.
I was streaking toward the entrance when I heard, "My shoe! My shoe came off! I can't find my shoe!" It was Roz.
I was torn. Do I run for safety with the rest of the gang or do I go back and help Rozzy? I could not leave Roz there by herself. I went back and we frantically searched for this little black slipper. We found it! We put our arms around each other and ran as fast as we could out of that cemetery.
When we got back to the farm, the guys and Karen were there laughing their collective butts off.