The Trouble with You (Rixon Raiders 1)

“Oh my god.” I clapped my hand over her mouth, drowning out her laughter. “You’re demented.”

“Takes one to know one,” she mumbled, peeling my fingers away from her mouth. “Check out Cameron, he’s looking mighty—”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

It was too late. My eyes drank him in. The way his shoulder pads narrowed into his hips, how the tight-fitting pants clung to his muscular legs… and other places.

“You’ve got a little drool.” Flick pressed her thumb to the corner of my mouth. “Right there.”

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, swatting her hand away. “Is this thing almost done?”

She pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“No, this is no fun.” Now the initial buzz had worn off, I was ready to leave.

“Let’s just stay for Coach Hasson’s speech and then we’ll go, okay?”

“Fine,” I huffed, knowing she had me right where she wanted me. “But you owe me.”

Even though, deep down, I knew it was the other way around.

An hour later, we still hadn’t left. Flick was having fun and I guess my heart wasn’t completely made of stone because seeing her so happy, kind of made me happy.

“I’m going to pee,” I said to her as we wandered through the crowd. After Coach Hasson had worked everyone into yet another frenzy, he introduced his Varsity team for the season ahead. I knew each and every name, every face. We all did. The only difference was, I didn’t care.

“I’ll wait over by the ‘cream the Eagle’ stand,” Flick replied around a mouthful of cotton candy. “This is good.” She sucked her sticky fingers clean, grinning.

After the pep rally, everyone had moved to the parking lot where the social committee had set up stalls to raise money for the team. They’d kept the blackout theme but had strung up little neon lights between the stalls. It was annoyingly effective, just like everything else about tonight.

“I think you have to use the restrooms in the stadium.”

“Great.” Because I really wanted to go back in there.

I took off toward the imposing structure. Unlike most high schools in the area, Rixon High boosted a five-thousand capacity purpose-built stadium that, come game day next Friday, would be standing room only. The further away from the parking lot I got, the darker it became but I could just about make out the signage for the restrooms. Slipping inside, I hoped to find some other kids, but was greeted with nothing but deafening silence. The automated-lights flickered to life, calming my racing pulse, but I still hurried, eager to get out of here and back to Flick.

When I was done, I washed my hands and went back into the hall, waiting for the lights to flicker to life. But they didn’t. So I inched forward, waving my hands in the air hoping to trigger the sensors. “Shit,” I mumbled when nothing happened.

Wrapping my hands around my waist, I started toward the exit when a hand hooked around my mouth, yanking me into the shadows, drowning out the scream that ripped from my throat. A wave of fear washed over me as I was shoved into the wall, my eyes wild, straining against the darkness, searching frantically for something, someone… anything. But when a figure stepped in front of me, I pressed back against the cool cement, desperate to melt into the shadows and become invisible once more.

“Jason?” I snapped, the tremor in my voice betraying me. “Is that you?” Silence. “This is low, even for you.” When the figure still didn’t reply my voice cracked, “J- Jason?”

Even in the darkness, dressed in a black hoodie and sweatpants, a black mask hiding their face, I knew it was a guy. He was too tall, too broad and muscular… too deadly, to be a girl.

“Jason quit the Friday the Thirteenth act,” I said trying to school the panic in my voice. “You got me, I concede.” I held up my hands in surrender, but the figure watched on.

A little voice at the back of my mind whispered, What if it’s not Jason? What if it’s a serial killer and you’re about to be gutted like a fish? But I stuffed down the thoughts. It was a knee-jerk reaction to the situation, to the fear clawing up my throat. It was Jason.

It had to be.

“Screw this,” I murmured, steeling myself to run. But as I went to take off, another two figures rushed out of the shadows, grabbing my arms and pinning me against the wall.

“Jason,” I hissed as my brain tried to process what was happening. “This isn’t funny anymore. Tell your fucking idiot friends to back down before I scream.”

Their hands tightened and I thrashed against them, but they were too strong, and I was probably going to have bruises tomorrow. “Cameron, Asher, you’ve done a lot of messed up things to me in the past, but this is—”

The figure—Jason—ate up the distance between us in long sure strides, stopping mere millimeters from my body. “Jason?” I breathed, no longer convinced it was him and that I wasn’t about to be gutted like a fish.

Fear gripped me, as he dug his hand in his pocket. I sucked in a sharp breath as he began to lift his arm, waiting for the glint of metal. But it never came. Instead my vision went dark as something was shoved over my head and this time I did scream. The silence had been eerie enough. But this was worse.