Cheerleading Can Be Murder (Horror High #1) (2 page)

Chapter Two

After Biology, I had to endure two more boring classes—Pre-Algebra and American History. In all three of my classes thus far, there hadn’t been a single friend or close acquaintance, which really sucked. Even though my mind was fixated on cheerleading tryouts, I’d still been hoping for an interesting first day.

It was time for lunch, and after that I had three more periods—Spanish, Phys Ed, and Study Hall. For now, I focused on finding the lunch room and my best friend, Sydney. As I trudged through flocks of freshmen and upperclassmen, I kept on the lookout for her. It didn’t take long to find her.

Sydney was beautiful in her own right, with long, coal-black hair that hung to her waist, flawless skin, and crystal blue eyes. Even though we’d been best friends since grade school, her beauty still stunned me every time I saw her. She reminded me of one of those porcelain dolls that were lovely and creepy at the same time.

When it came to cheerleading, Sydney was less practiced in dance and tumbling than me, but she learned routines easily and could win people over with her elegance and friendly disposition. The last thing I wanted to do was think of her as competition today but ultimately, that’s exactly what she was. I just hoped like hell we could both find some miraculous way to make the squad together…

The thought of the two of us standing next to each other on the sidelines of Harrow’s basketball court was enough to make my heart fill with glee.

Sydney was standing in the hallway in front of the lunchroom, looking around anxiously. Searching for me, I presumed. I struggled to push through a wall of seniors to reach her, finally catching her eye. She waved and smiled just as I felt a hard shove from behind. I plunged headlong, struggling to retain my balance, my new Keds skidding noisily across the linoleum floor.

“Watch it, bitch!” came a nasally voice, and I instantly knew it was one of the Triple Ts, specifically the head T—Tasha. I recovered from the push and adjusted my bag, trying to ignore the flush of embarrassment dotting my cheeks.

In middle school, I’d attended a few of the high school games so I knew what Tasha looked like. Unbelievably, she looked even prettier up close. She stood in front of me now, hands on her hips haughtily, with her clan standing as back up behind her. I wasn’t in the mood for this. I pushed her back with my shoulder, moving forward through the hallway.

“See you at tryouts today,” I shouted over my shoulder, and I couldn’t believe the words as they were coming out of my mouth. Challenging Tasha Faraday was a mistake—anyone with half a brain knew that. She pretty much ruled the school. Tasha chuckled behind me, its echo following me down the hallway.

“Don’t waste your time, sweetheart. You don’t have a chance in hell of making the squad. Right?” she said, riling up her surrounding comrades. I glanced back, recognizing T2 and T3, Tally and Teresa. I also noticed Monika standing behind them in the shadows. Tally and Teresa giggled at Tasha’s insult, but Monika glanced down at her shoes apologetically.

By the time I reached Sydney, my blood was still boiling from the confrontation. Sydney was wearing a horrified expression on her face. “You didn’t,” she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, screw Tasha. She doesn’t scare me.” I stuck out my chin defiantly. I reminded myself to keep my head up as we headed to the end of the lunch line.

Sydney told me about her first three classes as we waited in line, trays in hand. I wasn’t very hungry, and honestly, I was barely listening to her. All I could think about were Tasha’s words, and how I had to somehow prove the Triple Ts wrong.

“Dakota, are you even listening?” Sydney nudged my shoulder playfully.

“I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind,” I admitted guiltily.

“Tryouts.” She nodded sympathetically. “I’m worried about them too.”

Sydney probably was nervous for tryouts, but I suspected that her worries came nowhere near mine. I couldn’t seem to think of anything else.

“There he is,” Sydney mumbled, rolling her eyes. I didn’t have to look. I already knew who she meant. It was Ronnie Becklar, my one-time boyfriend and the biggest heartbreaker of all time. He entered the lunchroom with a strut, dressed in skinny black jeans and a stupid faded t-shirt. He didn’t give me a passing glance, but that was no real surprise.

Ronnie and I started dating in eighth grade. I should have known it was too good to be true because he was so popular, and I was so…well,
un
popular. It started with him passing flirty notes in math class. He told me I was pretty and asked for my phone number. Even after we officially became boyfriend and girlfriend, I quickly realized that he liked to flirt with all of the girls, not just me. Toward the end of the school year, he became more distant.

At first, he claimed he was breaking up with me because he wanted to focus on basketball. He’d excelled at sports in middle school, and just like with me and cheerleading, this was his time to shine as a varsity player at Harrow High. But ever since he told me we were breaking up, he’d pretty much acted like I didn’t exist.

Ronnie crossed the lunchroom cheerfully, and as I followed his path, my stomach dropped. He took a seat next to his new girlfriend, who also happened to be my arch nemesis, Genevieve McDermott. Genevieve would be at tryouts today too, and I wanted to beat her out for a spot on the team for personal reasons, obviously. Namely, because although Ronnie claimed that he dumped me because he needed to focus on sports, I knew the real reason—he dumped me for Genevieve.

Genevieve was a freshman like me, and we’d been cheering together and competing against each other since the first grade talent show. She had bleached blonde hair, cut in a totally cute and trendy bob. Let’s face it—with that hair, she’d look perfect standing next to the Triple Ts on the sidelines. She also had a perfectly sized chest, pearly white teeth, and flirtatious green eyes surrounded by the longest lashes I’d ever seen. She had a reputation for stealing other girls’ boyfriends, and I knew she would soon grow tired of Ronnie, moving on to her next victim. Somehow, that thought was comforting.

Genevieve was cozied up at her table with Ronnie and her bestie, Mariella. Mariella was a buxom redhead with long, flowing curls and a freckly, pert nose that actually made her look sweet. That was until she opened her loud, gossiping mouth. Genevieve was busy fawning over Ronnie but Mariella, being the bitchy sidekick that she always was, glared right at me. She flashed a triumphant smile, obviously happy to see her best friend getting one over on me.

“I can’t wait to wipe that smile off her face. Off all their faces…” I grumbled to Sydney through clenched teeth.

We found an open spot at a nearby table and plopped down our trays. Sitting down, I caught a glimpse at an overhead clock.
Tick tock.
It was almost twelve-thirty. Only two and a half hours to go until tryouts.
We’ll see who Ronnie wants to be with when I get a spot on the team and Genevieve doesn’t
, I thought, prying open my milk carton angrily.

I looked around the lunchroom at the rest of my peers, tuning Sydney out, and that was when I saw Ashleigh, the junior whose year it was to finally make the squad. She was perched at a table filled with people, but she was basically sitting alone. No one was talking or looking at her. With hair the color of dirty dishwater, gunmetal-gray eyes, and homely, holey clothing, the first word that came to mind was
lonely
. Under the table, the laces to her ragged running shoes were untied. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

In truth, Ashleigh deserved a spot on the team this year. I still had plenty of years ahead of me to make the team when the veterans were gone, but she was getting close to being out of chances. Although I wanted to make the team, I wanted her to make it too, I realized surprisingly.

We can’t all make it though
, I reminded myself, stuffing a french fry into my mouth. I chewed on it thoughtfully. Two tables up from Ashleigh was Brittani, the principal’s daughter. She’d never cheered before, but for some reason, she thought she could just walk into tryouts and claim a spot on the team, simply because her mom was Principal Barlow. That just didn’t seem fair, if you asked me.

Brittani was surrounded by her usual entourage of friends, which was a combination of preps and nerds, chatting excitedly, talking about tryouts, no doubt. She was wearing her subtle brown hair in a tight, high ponytail, with a pair of glasses hanging on a string around her neck. Brittani did everything well. She made straight As, played tennis, and even co-coached volleyball on the weekends.
How would she even have time to cheer?
I wondered bitterly.

I stuck more fries and ketchup in my mouth, glaring at Brittani. I had a feeling that, like everything else, Brittani would excel at cheerleading too.

“You’re eating those fries like they pissed you off or something,” a voice called out from my left. Sydney was beside me, but the voice didn’t come from her. I looked over to see my new neighbor, Amanda Loxx, grinning down at me goofily. She took a seat on my right, clinking her tray against mine.

I lived in one of those luxurious, mass-produced McMansions, in the middle of a suburbia called Harrow Hill—hence, the name of my high school. I’d lived here my entire life with my mother, father, and now new baby brother, Vincent. Despite the dozens of similar houses stacked around us, there were always few kids in my age group nearby. The kids in our neighborhood were either too old to want to play with me, or too young for me to do the same.

That all changed when Amanda moved in next door with her grandmother, the infamous Mimi Loxx. Rumor has it, Grandma Mimi used to be a Vegas showgirl, and supposedly, a fast-paced life filled with glamour, drugs, and mini-stardom drove her a little batty. The woman was nearly ninety by now and known around town as a recluse. Local boys delivered her groceries and a professional lawn care service took care of the grounds upkeep. Never outside, the townsfolk of Harrow Hill never heard a peep out of her. That was, until her wild granddaughter Amanda showed up this summer.

Amanda was only fifteen like me, but she didn’t look or act like anyone from around here. She had one of those short, Miley Cyrus hairdos, and a silver barbell in her left eyebrow. The first time I met her she was puffing on a Cambridge cigarette in the grassy area at the side of her Grandma Mimi’s house, squatting down low next to the air conditioning unit secretively. She had on a black, holey t-shirt with the words
‘
Kill Your TV’
scrawled across it, which I still didn’t understand the meaning of.

Even though no one told me directly, I’d overheard the adults—namely, my own parents—talking about how Amanda’s father died violently and her mother was an addict. Her parental situation must have been bad if her most lucrative alternative was staying with her eccentric Grandma Mimi.

We didn’t have much in common but somehow, we hit it off right from the start. She introduced me to some new styles of music and I helped her paint her nails for the first time. She even let me try some peach schnapps, which was my first drink of alcohol, although I’d never tell her that. We rode bikes, took walks, and talked about boys all summer long. Honestly, it was one of the best summers of my life. Amanda was witty, confident, and all around fun, and I was glad to have her at Harrow High with me this year.

“Sydney, this is Amanda Loxx, my new neighbor. Amanda, this is the best friend I always talk about, Sydney Hargreaves.” They smiled and nodded at each other, but I could sense a small aura of jealousy emanating from both of them. I scooted over on the bench seat, making more room for Amanda.

Several classmates were looking our way, undoubtedly checking out the new girl. I wasn’t surprised to see Genevieve and Mariella glaring at us too, but I was a little caught off guard by the furious expression on Genevieve’s face as she mean mugged Amanda. I was used to them hating me, but I wasn’t quite sure what their vendetta was against Amanda. It didn’t take long to figure it out.

“I thought I was her only enemy. Guess I was wrong.” I smiled sheepishly at my new neighbor and friend. “Why is she looking at you like that?”

Genevieve narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips evilly, burning holes into Amanda with her liquid-green eyes.

Amanda shrugged. “Oh yeah,
that.
Well, you know how I wasn’t on the bus this morning?” I was used to riding the bus alone in the mornings, so I’d completely forgotten all about not seeing her at the bus stop. I nodded.

“Grandma Mimi sleeps ’til noon every day and I forgot to set an alarm. So, I overslept,” she explained, shrugging some more. “I decided to walk because…well, everyone knows that Grandma Mimi doesn’t leave the house, and she sure as shit doesn’t drive.”

“You
walked
all the way to school this morning?” I asked incredulously. We were only six miles from Harrow High, but that was quite a long commute traveling by foot.

“That’s the thing…I didn’t have to walk. Some older boy picked me up a few blocks from our street. He was super cute and nice, and when he pulled up to drop me off, I rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek,” Amanda admitted, blushing slightly at the memory of it.