Cutting Up The Competition (Horror High #2)
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Authors: Carissa Ann Lynch
Cutting Up the Competition
Horror High Series: Book Two
By Carissa Ann Lynch
Cutting Up the Competition
Copyright © 2016 by Carissa Ann Lynch.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: May 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-636-7
ISBN-10: 1-68058-636-X
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To all of the cheerleaders and coaches out there.
And to my cheerleaders in life:
Violet, Dexter, Tristian, and Shannon.
Our family is the best team a girl could ask for.
Amanda
I used to think going to Harrow High would make me feel “normal.” I would blend in, make a few friends, but mostly…life would be quiet.
But that was all before my lovely new school got nicknamed “Horror High,” and all my plans of fading in the background hit the proverbial shit fan.
At least I’m in my element now because my whole life, all I’ve ever known is drama and chaos. No quiet moments for this girl…
I moved here last year because my drug-addicted mother could no longer take care of me and my psychopathic father was shot down by police after murdering six people in a bank when I was the ripe old age of ten. It sounds crazy, I know, but it’s all true—I swear. Sometimes I wish it wasn’t.
The craziest part of all this is that I don’t seem so weird anymore. I fit in perfectly at Horror High. I’m not sure if that should make me feel scared or better about my current surroundings…
Living with my Grandma Mimi has been interesting, to say the least. She is a kooky, sometimes manic, but always bizarre former Vegas showgirl that just turned ninety last fall. She hasn’t ventured out of her house in nearly ten years with the exception of one day last season when she shocked me and the entire town by showing up at a basketball game where I was cheering. If my year hasn’t sounded strange enough to you yet, keep listening.
Last year I made the Harrow Varsity cheerleading squad, along with my best friends Dakota and Sydney. Well, Sydney hasn’t always been a friend of mine…but we’re best friends now.
Despite the sheer awesomeness of getting selected for the team, a girl who was insanely jealous of our accomplishments actually stalked us and nearly murdered Sydney. Sounds crazy, right? Rest assured—that maniac was arrested for her crimes, and she’s safely tucked away in a juvenile detention center far away from Harrow Hill and us.
At least that’s what we thought…
Dakota calls our
new
stalker “The Prankster” because he or she has been calling us off and on all summer, making vague childish threats in a lame robotic voice. We’ve agreed—it’s a copycat, probably one of our classmates trying to upset us and fuel the drama flames from last year’s incident.
You might ask:
Who would do such a thing?
My answer to that is lots of people. This town is full of weirdos and girls who love to hate on us—especially because we’re cheerleaders.
Had enough of my drama yet? Well, hold on to your seats because the real drama is about to begin. Today is the first day of school, and unlike last year, I’m feeling a bit more confident because this time around I’m a sophomore instead of a freshman. The first day is always the most exciting and I’m only two years shy of running this place!
After all the insanity of last school year, this year is bound to be better. It’s already getting off to a good start because my best friend, Dakota, got her driver’s license last January, and three days ago, her mom and dad surprised her with a new car. It’s a used red Chevrolet Cavalier convertible from 1987. It has a dent on the passenger’s side, racing stripes that are actually a pattern of faded paint, and a cloth top that leaks when it rains. Basically perfect, in my opinion.
I’m old enough to get my license too, but since I don’t have a car, what’s the point? I’m just super excited that Dakota can drive us to and from school each day instead of being forced to take the bus.
We whipped into the school parking lot, the top to the Cavalier down, a One Direction song blaring from the speakers, sending shockwaves up my back. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this cool before.
Dakota selected a parking space in the back, which is usually a segment of the lot reserved for seniors, but today it didn’t matter. We’re cheerleaders. We’re sophomores.
We make our own damn rules.
In the spirit of being cool, I climbed over the side of the convertible instead of using the door to get out. Isn’t that what the cool kids did in the 80s’ movies?
Dakota’s boyfriend, Andy McGraw, followed my lead and climbed out from the passenger seat. Dakota and Andy have been dating since last year. He’s also a sophomore. They’re basically the most perfect couple I’ve ever seen—all smiles and hand holding and back rubs…yuck.
I won’t say that I’m jealous, but I do envy the closeness they share. I’ve really, truly never been close to anyone. That is, until I met Dakota last year and learned what it is to have real, dependable friends.
Sydney—my other bestie—being her usual elegant and classy self, opened the car door slowly and stepped out from the back, whipping her velvety black hair around with dramatic flair. Sydney’s got legs for days and today she’s wearing a red cotton dress and dainty leggings that look stunning with her long mane of hair that stretches down the length of her back. Dakota was right behind her and I quickly followed, forming a line with both girls.
The three of us marched toward the door with Andy in our wake.
We were walking like we owned the place.
Maybe this year, we will.
Harrow High is a fairly small school, with only two hundred students comprising its graduating class last year.
As I walked through the entrance, there were swarms of students I recognized, dozens of my fellow sophomores and upperclassmen I remembered from last year. Some of them I still didn’t know well.
Unlike me, Dakota and Sydney have lived in this town their whole lives, and I was pretty sure they knew about everyone in the entire school. I noticed clusters of new students too—undoubtedly, this was our new freshman class. I couldn’t help wondering which of the girls would show up at cheerleading tryouts today.
Last year, the team was comprised of me, Dakota, and Sydney, as well as three other girls—Genevieve McDermott, Tally Johannsen, and Tamika Rutherford. The three of us and Genevieve would certainly try out again this year, but Tally and Tamika graduated last May.
Although we all had to try out all over again, I felt certain that the four of us would retain our positions on the squad. That meant there were two vacant spots for our new freshman girls. I knew I should be at least a tiny bit worried, but honestly…I wasn’t.
Waving goodbye to Sydney and Dakota, I made my way to the west wing of the building, which is where my first class—Chemistry—was held, according to the schedule I’d printed off the school’s website. Unlike last year, I was more familiar with the school’s layout and confident I could find all of my classes with ease.
As I hustled down the hallway to the chemistry lab, I just happened to glance down a narrow, connecting hallway that
also
happened to be the place where Sydney almost died last year. An involuntary shudder rolled through my body as I thought about that night and the sheer terror I felt in those crucial moments before Sydney was rescued. My body kept moving, but my eyes stayed with that hallway, barely missing a traffic jam of students ahead.
I stopped, sighing as I waited for kids to stop blocking the hallway. My eyes were still drawn down
the
hallway of doom, and I immediately caught a glance of a cute girl with white-blonde hair. She was pacing up and down the hallway frantically, holding a sheet of white paper in front of her nose, most likely her school schedule.
The girl stopped moving, squinted down at the sheet, and then threw up her hands in disgust. Nobody helped me out last year when I was a freshman, and the bell was about to ring, but I couldn’t help feeling the urge to help her.
Who knows? Maybe I’ll turn out to be a real do-gooder this year
…
“Dang it, Amanda,” I scolded myself. Veering right, I turned straight toward the dreaded hallway to help her.
“What classroom are you trying to find?” The white-blonde girl whipped around to see who was asking. Letting out a sigh of relief, she pointed at the first line on her schedule sheet.
“I need to get to Chemistry. It’s supposed to be in room seventeen in the west wing, but there are no rooms with the number seventeen on them in this hallway.” She thrust the paper at my chest.
I smiled tightly. “You’re in the right wing, but this is the wrong hallway. Nothing good happens in this hallway,” I rambled. “Look, I’m going to the same class. Just follow me.” I led her to an adjacent hallway, which did in fact, contain room seventeen.
She was carrying a star-printed messenger bag, and I couldn’t help but appreciate the sheer number of funky-styled rings lining her fingers. The white hair, dark eye makeup, and alternative accessories created an interesting style on her—one that I coveted.
“Wait a minute. Are you sure you have Chemistry for your first period? I thought freshmen took Biology…” She shook her head, grinning widely to reveal slightly spaced teeth. Somehow, even the odd teeth looked great on her.
“I’m not a freshman. I used to live in Crimson County, which is only a couple towns over. You probably know where I’m talking about. My family and I were going to move to Hawaii ’cause my dad’s in the service, but plans changed and we decided to move closer to town. So, I am technically a newbie even though I’m not a freshman. I’m Winter Addams.”
She stuck out her ring-clad hand for me to shake. I accepted it, smiling. I could remember all too well what it felt like to be the new girl in town last year, so I could relate with this girl completely. I motioned for her to keep following, and I took her by the arm as we weaved in and out of the crowds.
We pushed our way through one last swarm of students, and then I tapped at the numbered sign on the door with a smile. “Seventeen,” I bragged. She grinned back gratefully. We slid into two seats in the back row, just in time for the bell.
I looked at this new strange girl and couldn’t help wondering if we’d become friends this year. Girls we passed gave her dirty, jealous looks while the boys stared at her, some of them catcalling. New or not, she certainly wouldn’t go unnoticed.
What would I have done last year if Dakota hadn’t befriended me when she did? Luckily, Dakota and I were next door neighbors, so we were able to get chummy over the summer before school started.
I made a decision right then: to throw Winter a bone and try to help her feel welcome at Harrow Hill. She’d fit in just fine with Dakota, and Sydney too. They say three’s a crowd, so why not add a fourth bestie to our clique? I couldn’t see any good reasons why not.
