The girl shrugs. “My brother was supposed to give me a ride. He probably forgot since I usually have cheerleading practice after school on Fridays. Our captain is going to some big gala tonight with her boyfriend so practice was cancelled.” The girl rolls those intriguing eyes and her mouth curls into a mischievous smirk. “I don’t mind though. I know he loves me. He’s just a free spirit kind of guy.” She shrugs, accepting the fact that her brother left her stranded.
My gaze drops to her cheerleading squad T-shirt, sporting the black and red colors of the school.
“Oh. Well…I’m sure my driver can give you a ride.”
The girl smiles, two dimples framing her perfect teeth. “Thanks. I’m Kinsey.” She holds out her hand.
Befuddled, I clasp my hand around hers. What ninth grader shakes hands? It’s weird, but she’s so genuine in her actions I can’t help but smile back.
“I’m Britton.”
Finger swiping on my phone, I pull up my contacts and scroll through for Charlie’s number. While I’m searching, the loud squeal of tires on the driveway leading up to the school catches my attention. Along with the noise, the acrid scent of burnt rubber stings
my nostrils. I glance up from my phone to watch as a black car fishtails into the parking lot, swinging widely to the left and screeching to a stop about a hundred yards away.
“Who’s that?” Kinsey asks.
I squint to block out the bright September sun. “No clue, but he probably shouldn’t be behind the wheel if that’s how he drives.” We watch as the driver’s door of the car is thrown open and a tall boy a few years older than us steps out. Despite the oppressive Atlanta heat, a chill goes down my spine. Something is very, very wrong.
“Britton,” Kinsey whispers, her voice shaking.
My eyes scan the boy, trying to make sense of what’s happening, to piece together the images, but my mind can’t rationalize what it sees—simply can’t process the horror. Fear chokes me, tightening around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs. Kinsey tugs on my sleeve, but I’m frozen. Unable to move.
Too late, the pieces begin to drop into place—camouflage, greasepaint on his face, and guns…lots of them, in the boy’s hands and hanging from straps on his arms. Everything around me slows to a stop as my heart thunders in my chest, reaching a pace so rapid, it can’t possibly be sustainable. A bizarre lightheadedness separates my mind from my body, surely a protective instinct to keep my psyche from fracturing. It’s as if I’m watching the scene play out as a casual observer. Life is merely a movie on a screen.
The boy circles around the car and raises a large, black weapon, lining it up with his eye—at us. Kinsey’s voice breaks through the fog, hysterical and sobbing. “Britton, run!”
Kinsey grabs my hand, pulling me up the steps of the school. I twist my body to run, but not before locking eyes with the boy. They’re dead, cold, shut down—the eyes of a killer. Adrenaline propels me up the stairs and through the doors, where we burst through into an empty hall.
“In here,” Kinsey cries.
I follow her into the main office where only a few staff members remain. We dive under the long front counter just as popping sounds split the silence, cracking the air like fireworks.
Then the screaming begins.
Kinsey wraps her arms around me, using my shoulder to stifle her sobs. I hold her tight, clinging to the faint threads of reality as they loosen in front of me.
Will school be canceled Monday? I nearly laugh out loud at the thought. A single long thread works its way free.
More screams fill the small office. Another thread pulls loose, allowing more of my mind to slip away.
I cover my ears with my hands, vaguely aware of Kinsey clinging to me. The fabric of my world unravels to one single thought.
Survive.
I stare into her damp, silver eyes, seeing my own fear reflected back at me. And when black boots scuff across the floor and stop next to us, I know without a doubt I’m about to die.
Keller
My eyes are blurry as I attempt to focus. Fuck, my head is killing me. After rubbing the sleep from my eyes and adjusting to the dark room, I realize I’m in Logan’s guest room with Rory sleeping next to me on one side, another naked girl I don’t recognize on the other.
Despite the headache and general all-around shitty feeling, I smile. Yesterday was fucking epic. When word spread that Logan’s parents were gone, a bunch of our friends showed up to party. And man, did we party.
I slide out of the bed without disturbing either of the girls and grab my shorts. After tugging them on, I use the bathroom and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The satisfied look on my face is enough to bring a smile to my lips. I used both of those girls until my dick ran dry and I collapsed in exhaustion.
Wetting my hands, I run them through my dark, matted hair, letting it stick up randomly on top of my head. I make sure my keys are in my pocket and shove my shoes on my feet, headed for the front door. People are passed out all over the living room in different states of undress. I have to carefully step around them to get out of here.
The glow of the clock in the kitchen says 5:45 a.m. Fuck, it’s earlier than I thought, but I don’t want to be here when everyone wakes up. Listening to people bitch about hangovers and dealing with clingy girls are not my things. Fucking and fun? Those are my things. The next morning? Hell no.