Cheerleading Can Be Murder (Horror High #1) (5 page)
Read Cheerleading Can Be Murder (Horror High #1) Online
Authors: Carissa Ann Lynch
When I walked out my front door in the morning, I was relieved to see Amanda standing at the end of her grandma’s driveway. I hated the idea of her walking all those miles to school. But mostly, I hated the idea of her catching another ride with Ronnie. She was wearing her
‘
Kill Your TV’
shirt again, but I noticed the eyebrow piercing was gone.
“You really do want to be a cheerleader.” I grinned at the tiny, reddish mark on her brow that would undoubtedly turn into a scar. “You look better without it,” I assured her. She didn’t look so sure as she rubbed the spot self-consciously.
“I feel naked without it,” she admitted.
My first four periods were just as boring as the day before. I looked forward to seeing Amanda and Sydney at lunch. I wanted to see how Sydney was doing, and make sure she wasn’t mad at me for some reason. At lunchtime, she wasn’t waiting for me at the same spot.
I entered the cafeteria, scanning the entire length of the lunch line. I saw Amanda in the middle of the line, holding her tray to her chest, chatting up a pair of boys in front of her. Again, I was just glad it wasn’t Ronnie. I approached and tapped her on the elbow.
“Hey, girl!” she squealed.
“Can you get me a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches? I need to go find Sydney,” I asked. She nodded absentmindedly, turning back to the boys.
I headed into the lunchroom, scanning the circumference of the room, looking for my friend. My eyes naturally landed on Ronnie. If this was
Where’s Waldo?
, and he was the star, I’d win every time.
Unfortunately, Genevieve was by his side. And by her side was…Sydney? I couldn’t believe it! Why was my best friend hanging out with my arch enemy?
The Triple Ts and Ashleigh were also sitting with them. Ashleigh was sweet to everyone, so that didn’t surprise me, but Genevieve and Tasha? And the other Ts? It seemed strange.
I knew I shouldn’t go over there, but Sydney was, after all, my best friend. I’d never been hesitant to approach her, and I wouldn’t start today.
Genevieve saw me coming, and she leaned in close to Sydney, whispering something in her ear. Sydney immediately looked up at me just as I reached the table.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I placed my hands on my hips, instantly feeling foolish. Who was I to say who Sydney could be friends with?
“Fine. We’re going over our routine together, since we’re on the same group team,” Sydney explained, pointing to Genevieve, Tasha, and Ashleigh. I felt like asking her why the other two Ts were at the table then, but I held my tongue.
“Okay. I’ll see you later in Phys Ed,” I said, smiling at her.
“Okay, but…” Sydney started to say.
“But what?” I asked, completely baffled by her aloofness.
“It’s just…well, Genevieve asked our Phys Ed teacher if we could work on our routine during the entire period, so I might not get to hang out with you at all today.” She stared down at her hands, avoiding my gaze.
“I understand.”
And I did.
I understood exactly what Tasha was doing. She wanted her group of four and her two besties to be the final six, so she was creating a wedge between them and the rest of us.
I wouldn’t mind so much if one of them wasn’t my best friend.
Sydney had warned me that she might be too busy to talk to me in Phys Ed, and she stayed true to her word. I tried my best not to worry about it. Amanda and I followed Sydney and Genevieve’s lead, and we also went off to our own corner of the gym to practice. Most of our other classmates were playing flag football in the center of the gym floor.
As Amanda and I went through the motions of our group routine, I couldn’t help but check out Ronnie, who was running with the football in hand, girls swarming around him, playfully trying to grab the flag that was tightly hooked to his belt. When I looked over at Amanda, I saw I wasn’t the only one fawning over Ronnie. I groaned.
“What?” Amanda raised her soon-to-be scarred eyebrow at me questioningly.
“We used to date…me and Ronnie,” I explained. Honesty is always the best policy, or at least that’s what my mother tells me. I figured if I just told her that I still had feelings for him, maybe she would back off.
“Oh, okay,” Amanda replied, shrugging slightly. “Let’s run through it again,” she suggested, overtly changing the subject. We started the group number back from the top.
***
Brittani was waiting for me when I walked into Study Hall. She motioned me over, pointing at the desk beside hers. I had no choice but to take a seat. I guess since we’re doing our group routine together, she thought we could be friends.
“So, what do you think about your chances of making the team?” she asked.
Notice how she doesn’t seem concerned about her own chances?
I shrugged.
“I think Tasha, Tally, Teresa, and Monika have a definite advantage since they’ve all been on the team the last three years. I can’t see Coach Davis cutting them from the team, especially not their senior year. All we can do is try our best.” I was trying to sound optimistic and impartial.
“My mom said that there’s no way I won’t make the team.” Brittani folded her arms over her chest, pleased with herself for some reason. She was wearing the lamest “trying to look like a geek but I’m not” sweater vest.
I couldn’t believe she was playing the “my mom is the principal” card! I just couldn’t wrap my brain around the arrogance and audacity of this girl!
“Just because your mom is Principal Barlow doesn’t mean you’re a shoe-in to make it,” I retorted, my voice sounding angrier than I would have liked.
“My mom is the reason Coach Davis gets a paycheck, Dakota. Do you really think she’s stupid enough to cut me?”
She had a point, but I wasn’t about to listen to any more of her bullshit. I turned around in my seat, clenching my teeth.
Perhaps she was trying to psych me out so I’d drop out of the competition, but her antagonism just fueled the fire within me. As far as I was concerned, all conversations with Brittani Barlow were over. She could brag about who her mother was to somebody else.
I was trying to be tolerant of Brittani up until now, but I could no longer see the point. When she leaned forward to say something else, I grabbed my stuff and moved to a seat on the opposite side of the room. All I wanted to do was finish up my homework and count down the minutes until day two of cheerleading tryouts. Brittani watched me strangely, eyes narrowed.
Maybe I was anxious about tryouts or maybe it was the extra spicy chimichanga I’d eaten for lunch, but my stomach was doing somersaults. I didn’t want to be late to practice, but I had to make a pit stop at the restroom.
I was moving against traffic, kids heading out to catch the bus or get in their cars in the school parking lot, all the while I was struggling to move in the other direction. Finally, I reached my destination.
The bathroom was deserted, quiet. I locked myself in the last stall and willed my stomach to stop cramping. I heard the door open and close, sounds of kids leaving school filtering in from the hallway.
I waited for whoever had come in to enter a stall, but they never did. I sat there, strangely holding my breath. What was I waiting for?
I bent my head down, awkwardly trying to look under the stall for a pair of feet. Just as I did, a pair of boots stopped right in front of my stall door.
I don’t know why, but I jerked back suddenly. The hairs on my arms stood up. Quietly, I tucked my legs up, waiting for the weirdo to go away.
I was tempted to bend back down, see if the feet had moved, but I stayed frozen, gripping my knees until my knuckles turned white.
I sat there for so long, I started to wonder if maybe they’d left and I’d just failed to hear them.
Just when I was about to get up and waltz out of the stall, I heard what sounded like heavy breathing through the door.
What the hell?
Anger rising, I jumped off the toilet and smacked my palms against the stall door.
“Get the hell out of here and away from my stall, freak!”
Silence.
But then I heard the boots moving. They seemed to pause in front of the main door, but then finally, I heard it open and close.
I let out a whoosh of breath. I opened the door and walked out, looking around nervously.
Grabbing my backpack, I took off down the hallway. I was going to be late to tryouts.
Day two of tryouts was brutal. The first thing Coach Davis made us do was run suicides up and down the gym floor. After that we did fifty sets of each jump, and one hundred push-ups—not the girly styled push-ups either. In no time, I’d completely forgotten about the psycho-breather in the bathroom. It was probably just some upperclassmen trying to scare me anyway…
By the time we broke off into our groups to practice, we were all exhausted and breathless. However, today was the last day to practice the group routine together before tryouts, because tomorrow we would begin training for individual routines.
We started the group routine with our hands on our hips, and the first several minutes included doing simple kicks and flirty dance moves. But then the routine transitioned to a complex set of running back tucks, and a stunt at the end with Teresa standing with her arms extended in a V on top of mine and Brittani’s hands, while Amanda supported the back. It was a pretty tough lift, but we’d been doing it well in our practice sessions.
We ran through the routine several times. It was almost time to do our mile and go home, but we decided to practice it one last time. Our final run-through seemed to go even better than the last, and Teresa’s balance was perfect as we lifted her in the final stunt. She held the move for several moments, just like she was supposed to. Normally, we lowered her down properly, allowing her to use our hips as stepping points for getting down.
But suddenly, Brittani let go of Teresa’s right foot and took a step back. In what seemed like slow motion, she fell so fast there wasn’t enough time for me to react. She hit the floor with a sickening thud, and there was the unmistakable sound of something cracking. I gasped.
She let out a high-pitched scream, grabbing at her ankle desperately from a fetal position on the floor.
I fell to my knees beside her, as did Amanda. “Don’t move.” I forced myself to look down at her ankle. It was twisted at a bizarre angle and a sizable lump had formed above her foot. No doubt it was broken. At this point, I could only hope there was nothing else broken. She had fallen so fast and hard, and from pretty high up.
“We need an ambulance, Coach Davis,” Brittani called out in an abnormally calm voice for such a panicky moment. Coach Davis was already on her cell phone, talking to a 911 operator, while the other girls gathered around Teresa, trying to soothe her pain with kind words and support. I couldn’t believe this had happened.
“I did it for you, ya know…” Brittani whispered in my ear.
I spun around, gaping at her. “You…
what
?”
Suddenly, a chill ran up from my spine to the base of my neck. I stood there, staring at Brittani, completely flabbergasted.
“Shhh…” Brittani put a finger to her lips. “I’m helping you out by clearing more space on the team for you, silly,” she whispered, smiling strangely. Then she winked at me, her lips curling up into a humorless smile. I stared at her wide-eyed, unable to hide my horror.
Needless to say, Coach Davis let us off the hook when it came to running our mile that day. Teresa was wheeled out on a gurney by two paramedics. We all knew but didn’t want to say it out loud—there was no chance in hell she’d be able to cheer this season.
I was still in shock from Brittani’s confession, and unsure what to do with the information. I couldn’t prove that she dropped her on purpose and I wasn’t sure anyone would believe me, anyway.
As Amanda and I climbed into my mom’s Camry, I knew my mom could tell that something was wrong simply by looking at my ashen expression.
I told her about Teresa’s “accident.” I wanted to tell her the truth, but I knew my mom would make me tell Coach Davis if she knew what really happened.
I barely talked the whole way home. “You okay, Dakota?” Amanda asked before climbing out of the back as we pulled up in front of her house. I nodded solemnly, swallowing hard.
“Everyone knows it wasn’t your fault, so don’t worry.” She stepped out, waving goodbye to my mom. I blinked hard, considering her words. Never once had it occurred to me that anyone might hold me responsible for the accident. But I was, after all, supposed to be the one holding Teresa up in the lift and bringing her down safely from the stunt.
That accident made me look bad.
So bad, indeed, it might cost me a spot on the team!
I realized. Instantly, I felt guilty for thinking such selfish thoughts. Here I was worried about something frivolous like cheerleading while Teresa was probably lying in a cast somewhere.
***
I tried to go to bed early. After such a stressful day, I needed to relax and decompress. I also needed to think about what Brittani did and what I should do about it. Once again, I reached the conclusion that there was nothing I could do. I just wished I could tell somebody.
I felt like calling Sydney, but after the way she acted at school today, I didn’t see the point. She obviously didn’t want to talk to me or she would have made time for me at school. I suddenly had a thought. Maybe I could talk to Amanda. She was right next door after all, and I trusted her not to say anything.
I wondered if she was still awake, or already in bed like me. I got out of bed, pulled my robe tight around me, and walked over to my bedroom window. It was a full moon tonight—not surprising after the day I’d had—but there wasn’t a star in the sky. Amanda’s house was mostly dark, but the front porch light still shone brightly, illuminating the front yard and entranceway.
I squinted out at the hazy glow, noticing movement in the shadows. That’s when I saw Amanda leaning down in front of someone on the stone porch steps. She seemed to be kissing someone. Whoever it was, they were sitting on the steps, and she was leaning down with her face pressed to theirs.
I stood on my tiptoes, squinting into the silvery darkness. When Amanda finally came up for air from the kiss, I could see the sharp outline of his face. I don’t know why I was so surprised. It was Ronnie, of course.
