Cheerleading Can Be Murder (Horror High #1) (12 page)

Chapter

Forty-Two

My mom was waiting for me when I came out of practice. Seeing her was like a breath of fresh air after an emotionally stifling day.

“Is Ronnie coming to pick you up?” I asked Amanda, who was looking up and down the parking lot for his Trans Am.

“He said he might be running late,” she replied warily.

“Why don’t you just text him and tell him my mom will bring you home? I don’t want you to wait here alone. Remember what Coach Davis told us about traveling in pairs…” My voice was edged with concern.

Our relationship had been rocky lately, but I was concerned for Amanda’s well-being and wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Okay,” she finally agreed, texting on her cell phone to Ronnie as she climbed into my mom’s backseat. My little brother was in the back today too, so I climbed up front with my mom.

“Where’s your uniform?” I knew she could already sense my distress. I told her what happened. I also told her about Monika and Tally’s slashed tires, and the disgusting discovery in Brittani’s bag.

“It sounds like you might be dealing with a sociopath.” Her lips tightened, the way they always did when she was worried.

“What’s a sociopath?” Amanda asked fearfully, leaning forward from her seat in the back.

“Someone who lacks the ability to feel remorse. They are manipulative and enjoy hurting others. They also often enjoy torturing animals.”

Amanda and I looked at each other, worried. My mom was one of the most intelligent women I knew, but I hoped like hell she was wrong. If she
was
right, then we could be in serious danger.

Chapter

Forty-Three

The next day was Wednesday, and I expected the sociopath to strike again. But the day went on without a hitch. I worked on my history project with Andy in class, but I was careful to stay on topic. He tried to joke around and be playful, but I did my best not to react to his charm.

I passed my oral Spanish test and avoided Sydney like the plague in Phys Ed. I think she was avoiding me too. At the sound of the final bell, I felt relief. An entire day with no incidents.

I headed to the gym for practice, astonished to see approximately ten boys running up and down the court playing a game of scrimmage. A few of them were freshman boys that I recognized. Ronnie and Andy were guarding each other. My stomach fluttered awkwardly at the sight of them both.

“I didn’t know the boys were practicing in here today.” Coach Davis clucked her tongue, obviously irritated. Tally was standing beside me too, and we exchanged knowing looks. There was a rumor going around that Coach Davis used to date the basketball coach, Coach Purnell, in high school. I wasn’t sure if there was any truth to the rumor, but based on the way she was glaring across the court at him, I thought it might be possible.

Coach Davis strolled across the court boldly, cutting straight through the ongoing game, and heated words were exchanged between her and Coach Purnell. He looked almost intimidated. I couldn’t contain a small snort of laughter. After their exchange, Coach Purnell and the boys moved to one side of the court, giving us plenty of room to practice on the other side.

Yesterday we learned six new cheers, and today we learned five more. The cheers were short and simple to learn. The halftime cheer, however, was more complex and involved me doing a standing back tuck, and being lifted into an extension prep.

After learning the sideline chants, it was time to practice the stunt. “Don’t you dare drop me on purpose,” I snarled at Brittani.

“I won’t!” she squeaked, looking surprised by my concern. It wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before, right? I rolled my eyes at her and got in position to step into the lift.

“One, two, down, up,” the bases called out in unison, dipping down as I stepped onto their hands. The next thing I knew their arms were fully extended and I was up in the air.

My arms and legs felt shaky. “Remember to pretend there’s a penny in your butt cheeks! Keep your butt and legs tight!” Coach Davis shouted. I did as she commanded.

“And smile up there!” I smiled out at the non-existent crowd.

However, even though there were no fans in the stands, there was a crowd watching me. Most of the boys had stopped what they were doing and they were staring at our stunt. Andy stared at me longingly, bracing a ball on his hip. I also saw Ronnie staring at me strangely.

“One, two, down, up,” they said again, performing a basket toss to let me down from the lift safely.

“Great job, girls! You were terrific, Dakota,” Coach Davis praised. I was absolutely exhilarated. Not only did I love being a flyer, but I was good at it too! I couldn’t wait for game night, and the “sociopath” was the farthest thing from my mind…

Chapter

Forty-Four

I was still flying high from yesterday’s practice when I saw that the sociopath had struck again. There were dozens of white paper fliers stuck to the doors of lockers and strung out all along the hallway. There had to be hundreds of them.

As I got closer, I saw that the flier contained a black and white picture of Amanda, pasted next to a mug shot of a man. I didn’t understand the meaning of them, but I knew the fliers contained something bad about my friend. I hastily walked up to the first one and started yanking them down furiously.

“It’s no use. They’re everywhere.” Amanda stood quietly behind me. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen.

“The sociopath?” She nodded grimly.

We walked from locker to locker, taking fliers down on each side of the hall. But people were picking them up off the floor and staring at the ones that were still hanging. “Sounds to me like your dad got what he deserved.” Tasha held up one of the papers defiantly.

Amanda tried to lunge at her, but I grabbed her around the waist and held her back with as much strength as I could muster. “You bitch! I know you did this! You’re the one doing all of this!” Amanda fought against my arms.

“I wish I could take credit for it.” Tasha giggled, running off down the hallway with an armful of fliers.

The bell rang and students cleared out of the hallway slowly. I didn’t care about getting to class on time, or at all. I had to fix this somehow. I let go of Amanda, who was calmer now that Tasha was gone, and I bent down to pick up more fliers from the floor. That’s when I really looked at the paper for the first time.

The mugshot belonged to Terrance Loxx, convicted of armed robbery and murder. Under the photos of him and Amanda was a copy of a newspaper article. I skimmed as much of it as I could, as speedily as possible, so that it wasn’t obvious to Amanda that I was reading it. The article was about a man who was in a standoff with police officers. He had been shot and killed, but not before committing a murder. The man in the article was Amanda’s father.

Below Amanda’s picture was a question:

Like father, like daughter?

I winced. The sociopath had stooped to a new low with this act.

“This is pointless. The fliers are in the other hallways too! We can’t get them all.” Amanda threw up her hands in exasperation.

“What’s going on?” asked a female voice from one of the classrooms. I recognized the woman as one of the sophomore math teachers.

“Can you use your walkie talkie to call for Principal Barlow? We need help getting all of these fliers removed as quickly as possible,” I said, taking charge of the situation.

“It’ll be okay,” I told Amanda, but I wasn’t so sure myself. The devastated look on her face was heartbreaking and I felt terrible for my friend.

With our arms wrapped around each other’s waists, we waited for Principal Barlow to come help us.

Chapter

Forty-Five

It took Principal Barlow and the janitor until almost lunchtime to track down all of the fliers and discard them. I’m sure there were still a few floating around…

Amanda was sullen as we sat at the lunch table with our Caesar salads and fruit bowls. There were several of our classmates sitting around us, but they got up and moved.

I noticed that people were staring at us. Well, not
us
per se, but Amanda. I returned their ugly stares with a few pretty ugly looks myself. I also heard a lot of whispering. Even if Amanda’s dad was a criminal, that had nothing to do with her.
If anything, people should feel sorry for her because of it
, I thought crossly. My classmates’ childishness was deeply upsetting.

“Hey, guys.” Andy set down his tray, taking a seat across me.

“Hi,” I replied, smiling at him sincerely.
The fact that he doesn’t care what people think about him for sitting with us is another trait I love about him
, I realized. I suddenly didn’t feel like staying mad at him any longer.

“That lift you guys did at practice yesterday was awesome. So, how heavy does Dakota’s big butt feel when you have to raise her up like that?” he asked Amanda, winking at me. She smiled back at him.

“She feels like a ton of bricks when I have to lift her over my head.” Amanda nudged me, grinning.

“Hey, now!” I laughed, smiling at them both.

“Are you guys going to do that lift at halftime?” he asked. Amanda nodded.

“We’re doing a routine and then the lift is at the very end,” she explained, popping a grape into her mouth.

I mouthed the words ‘thank you’ to Andy. I was so grateful he had gotten Amanda’s mind off the incident with the fliers. I watched him as he made her laugh, and had to admit that even though he hurt me, I wanted to forgive him and give him another shot.

Chapter

Forty-Six

“How does someone become a sociopath, Mom?”

We were eating fettuccini Alfredo and crisp asparagus spears for dinner. My dad had gotten off early from work. When I asked the question, he looked from me to my mom, and then put his head back down toward his food.

My mom smiled at me. She was feeding little bits of noodle and asparagus to Vincent, who was sitting in his highchair happily. “There are lots of different theories, honey. There is rarely one simple cause that makes people the way they are. It’s usually much more complex than that, a combination of factors…”

“Well, what do you think could possibly be
some
of the reasons?” I asked. She chewed her food thoughtfully.

“People who develop sociopathic tendencies usually come from abusive homes. Not always, but more times than not. One of the main theories is that they don’t form healthy relationships with their parents at an early age, and because of that, they never learn normal empathic skills. They often come from broken homes with parents who have drug problems, or problems with the law. In other words, sociopaths often have sociopathic parents. When I told you that the other day, about how maybe you’re dealing with a sociopath, I was wrong to say that. Kids your age are too young for that sort of diagnosis, honey. But you could be dealing with someone that has those sorts of traits. Does that make sense?” I nodded. It sort of did.

“So, are you ready for the big game Tuesday?” I could tell she was trying to change the subject to a more pleasant topic.

“Yes! I think we’re going to do well. Coach Davis said that my uniform will be delivered on Monday. Just in time for the opening game!”

“That’s great, honey,” Mom said.

“I have to work, but I’ll try to come to at least one of your games this season,” my dad chimed in, finally joining the conversation.

“I understand, Dad. I hope you can come to one, but if not, I’ll understand.” I finished my last bite of noodles.

I put my plate in the sink, heading upstairs for a shower. Even though I wanted to focus on the upcoming game, my thoughts kept drifting back to my mom’s words and all of the evil things that happened to us this week. Somebody obviously had it out for the cheerleaders.

If I could only figure out who was doing it, I might be able to stop it. Before he or she did something even worse. Whoever it was, they had to be smart. They had to sneak the cat into Brittani’s bag and break into my locker without anyone seeing them do it. They had to slit Monika and Tally’s tires out in the parking lot without being seen as well. They also had to research all of that information about Amanda and her father.

I thought about the possible suspects. Tasha was mean as hell, but not very smart. I couldn’t see her masterminding the whole thing. Sydney was smart. Scary smart. But her mom and dad were the most perfect parents ever, and when I thought about my mom’s profile, of someone from a dysfunctional family, she definitely didn’t fit.

A thought was taking shape in my mind, but I couldn’t grasp it yet. What was it that my mom said exactly? Sociopaths often come from broken homes, with parents who have drug problems or criminal problems…and then it hit me. I only had one friend who fit that profile, and she fit it perfectly. Amanda.