Cheerleading Can Be Murder (Horror High #1)

by Carissa Ann Lynch

  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.

  “Yeah, so? What does that have to do with Genevieve? Get to the point,” Sydney demanded. I shot Sydney a hateful look. “Sorry,” Sydney murmured under her breath.

  “It turns out his girlfriend was waiting out front for him, and she saw that he’d given me a lift, and…she also saw the kiss,” Amanda explained. “How was I supposed to know he had a girlfriend?”

  I knew where this conversation was headed. “Let me guess. The guy you kissed…it was Genevieve’s boyfriend, Ronnie, right?” I asked, flatly.

  “Yeah, Ronnie. That’s
his name!” Amanda exclaimed, cheerfully dipping her spoon into a small pudding cup. She filled her mouth with chocolate, then flashed me a silly black-toothed smile.

  I rolled my eyes. Yesterday I liked her…ten minutes ago, I liked her. But at the moment? Not so much.

  Sydney shot me a knowing glance. The last thing I needed was another girl flirting with Ronnie, the crusher of my heart and asshole of the century.

  “Oh yeah, I almost forgot!” Amanda chimed in, interrupting my hateful thoughts. With her painted black nails—the nails I painted for her when I still liked her—she slid a pink and purple flier across the table. I stared at it.

  “Do you know that cheerleading tryouts are today? I think I’ll try out!” Amanda announced gleefully.

  I tried my best to stifle a groan, but the sound escaped anyway. I laid my head on the Formica lunch table, reminding myself to breathe. Not only was Amanda after my ex, but now she was taking my spot on the squad?

  My first day as a high school freshman was getting off to a rocky start.

  Chapter Three

  The Sociopath

  I closed the door to the bathroom stall behind me. Listened. I didn’t hear anyone coming.

  My backpack was heavy. Easing it off my shoulders, I rested the bulky thing on the stained toilet seat. I unzipped the pack. Stopped to listen again, but heard no one.

  I stuck my hand in the bag, slipping past the new folders and notebooks. The tips of my fingers grazed cool metal.

  I gripped the gun in my hand.

  I pulled it out, admiring its shiny, sleek design and lightness despite its power.

  I moved the backpack from the toilet seat to the floor, taking a seat myself. I pointed the gun at the stall door. From where I sat, there was very little distance between me and the door.

  Just enough to extend my arm. I brought my other hand over, using it to steady my grip.

  “Bang bang.” I aimed the gun at the letter “S” in a crude, “School sucks” message written on the door.

  Suddenly, the main door to the bathroom swung open, loud sounds from the hallway pouring in…locker doors closing, sneakers squeaking, annoying voices of my classmates…man, I hate Harrow High.

  There were two people talking now, standing right in front of my door at the row of porcelain sinks. I tilted my head to the left…down, down, down…until I could make out the shapes of their legs only a few feet away.

  If I wanted to, I could take the expression, “knocks their socks off” to a whole other level.

  I lowered the gun, aimed it for the back of a tan, fuzzy calf. Closed my left eye.

  My finger resting on the trigger, I pressed. It made a small, barely noticeable click.

  “Bang bang,” I mouthed silently.

  The gun wasn’t loaded. But tomorrow I’d bring some bullets.

  Chapter Four

  Dakota

  Even if I was in the mood for socializing—I wasn’t—there was, once again, no one to talk to in my fourth period, Spanish class. I wondered how to say “I’m bored” in Español?

  Yawning, I flipped through my paperback textbook, skimming the terms in the glossary until I received my answer. “Estoy aburrido,” I muttered.

  “Miss Densford?” Mr. Thompson called out, his voice strangely feminine for such a hairy, gruff man like himself.

  I sat up ramrod straight from my previously slumped position.

  “Anything you want to share with the class?” He was grinning like a Cheshire cat. I squeezed my lips together and shook my head nervously.

  “Perhaps you would find my class more entertaining if you taught it yourself?” he suggested, raising his eyebrows challengingly.

  Getting on your Spanish teacher’s shit list on the first day of high school was never a good idea. Too late.

  “No sir.” I offered a tight, apologetic smile. He turned back around to the whiteboard and when he did, I heard a melodic giggle coming from the back. How did I miss that poof of red hair and glittering eyes in the back of the room? It was Mariella, Genevieve’s best friend.

  I shot a dirty look over my shoulder, and then tried to focus on the droning sound of Mr. Thompson’s voice for the remainder of the period. When the class bell rang, I was more than a little relieved. How was I going to make it through an entire school year filled with such boring classes?

  School won’t be so bad if you’re a varsity cheerleader, I reminded myself.

  Ronnie played forward on the basketball team. Perhaps if he saw me on the sidelines in one of those cute little skirts, showing off my cheerleading moves, he’d want me back, I considered. Even though I wanted him to want me back, I didn’t plan on giving him the time of day when he did. He crushed me, simple as that. All I wanted was an opportunity to return the favor.

  ***

  After spending an hour in a class with one of my enemies and a teacher who now hated my guts, I was relieved to see Sydney and Amanda standing right inside the doorway of the gymnasium, which was where Phys Ed was held. In less than two hours, I would return to this exact place for cheerleading tryouts. Thinking about it made me nervous and excited all at the same time.

  Amanda and Sydney were waiting for me, and I enjoyed seeing my two friends together, getting along even though they’d just met. “What’s up, girls?” I hoped they didn’t hear the quiver in my voice.

  I took a deep breath, tagging along behind my two friends, who were headed to the girls’ locker room to change into their gym clothes. I wasn’t a big fan of getting sweaty before tryouts had even begun, and I could only hope that we wouldn’t be doing anything too physical on our first day. Cheerleading requires a great deal of athleticism, but I wasn’t crazy about sports involving a ball.

  We found a spot to change in the far left corner of the locker room, and I retrieved my pair of gym shorts and a plain white t-shirt out of my backpack. It was stuffed to the gills with my athletic wear for tryouts, a handful of hair accessories, my toothbrush, and a small bag of makeup. I planned on fixing up before tryouts. For now, I turned my back to the others and began stripping out of my jeans and Harrow High t-shirt.

  I was seriously modest for several reasons. For one, I was short and slightly chubby. You know those girls with the flat, perfect abs? Well, I’ll never be one of those girls. And despite my small, curvaceous figure, I’d never had much of a chest. I couldn’t help feeling a little ripped off somehow.

  I quickly yanked my t-shirt over my head and shimmied my hips into the tiny gym shorts. I kept my eyes down, avoiding the other girls with their nicely toned, athletic physiques. Suddenly, a high-pitched giggle rang out in the locker room. This time it was coming from the queen bee—Queen Bitch is more like it—herself, Genevieve. She was standing in a row of other girls, pointing right at me. I didn’t know what she was saying and I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know.

  I threw my backpack into the locker and jogged out to the gym floor, keeping my eyes on the laces of my gym shoes. I hit a brick wall. Only, it wasn’t a wall, it was Ronnie.

  “Are you okay, Dakota?” He looked down at me with genuine concern.

  “I’m fine.” The corners of my lips curved into a smile despite my better judgement. Ronnie had this effect on me. It was the first time he’d looked at me or spoken to me since he’d broken things off at the end of last year. Memories of our short, but sweet relationship came flooding back. He smiled back slightly, and we seemed to be having a moment. Tucking my hair behind my ears nervously, I opened my mouth to speak…

  But then I was interrupted by the whipping motion of a bleached blonde ponytail, and a body cutting right between us. It was Genevieve, of course.

  Go figure that the one class I have with Ronnie is also the class that I share with Genevieve. That is just my luck on a day like today.

  “I’m so glad we’re in Phys Ed together, Pooky Bear!” she squealed, grabbing his forearm and leading him off toward the center of the floor. Pooky Bear? So disgusting!

  “Maybe, if we have
time, I’ll show you some of my cheerleading moves before tryouts!” she bragged, looking back at me smugly.

  At that moment, I wished I had an egg to throw at her glittery, perfectly made up, fake-tanned face. But since this was a gymnasium and not a chicken coop, I headed out to the middle of the gym floor, trying to shake it off.

  I saw the net and bundles of balls on each side, and I realized we were playing dodge ball. Another internal groan. Sydney and Amanda jogged over to my side of the net, and we all began stretching our arms and hamstrings. I couldn’t keep myself from glancing through the mesh onto the other side of the court. Genevieve and Ronnie were still hanging all over each other. Barf.

  Our gym teacher, Ms. Lancioni, strolled into the gym, balancing a dodge ball in her right hand and holding a turquoise-colored whistle in the other. In a deep, gravelly voice, she explained the rules of the game, informing my team that it was our turn to throw first. At the sound of her whistle, it was time to throw down.

  My own dodge ball was tucked neatly under my arm, and as I continued to glare across the court at Genevieve, I had an uplifting thought. This may not be a chicken coop, and there may not be eggs to throw, but I have something even better to chuck at her right now, and I can’t even get in trouble for it. I smiled down at my ball happily. Today, dodge ball was my favorite sport.

  I’d never had terrific aim when it came to dodge ball, or any sport for that matter, but I’d never been this motivated either. Genevieve wasn’t paying attention to the game, and for a moment, she turned her back to the net, leaning over to whisper something to Ronnie. The whistle sounded and that’s when I threw it.

  My aim was spot on. The ball flew through the air, then drilled her right in the center of her back. She yelped loudly, falling to her knees. Embarrassed, she jumped back up to her feet, brushing nonexistent debris from her knees and upper thighs.