Hi readers! Here's my Fright Night (2011) fanfiction. Title of the fic comes from the song "My Turn to Evil" by Letters vs. Numbers, which was in the trailer. Yes, I realize that everyone loves the original, and I agree, the original is terrific. But I really liked the remake, and thought that Colin Ferrell, David Tennant, and Anton Yelchin did a really good job. I kept getting this idea in my head, what if Charley had a sister who he didn't quite get along with him due to the Brewster's family problems, and that she turned to the worst thing for guidance and closure? It's Jerry/OC, and I will not make him OOC. So here's the fic, following the whole storyline of the 2011 remake. Review if you like, and I'll continue. :D
~ 1 ~
"In other news...reportedly, this evening a young woman was approached by an unidentified man who alledgedly attempted to bite her. If you know anything about this incident, please contact the authorities."
I yawned, glancing up at the television from my history homework. I arched an eyebrow at the newswoman on the screen, thinking this was a strange newscast, given that I'd never heard a man attempt to bite a woman, let alone in public. I chewed on my lip. The Brewster household was eerily quiet, my mother at work and Charley out.
"This man was not caught, and is possibly very violent. If you are approached by any such individual, immediately contact the authorities..." The newswoman said.
What kind of guy bites a woman in public? I guess some kind of freak with a fetish, or a cannibal...
"Blair! Honey, I'm home! Can you help me get the real estate stuff in the garage?"
I practically jumped out of my skin when the back door in the kitchen swung open, my mom tumbling in with a few grocery bags. I inhaled and shut off the television quickly, yanking myself up off the leather armchair in the family room, causing my history notebook and report to go flying off my lap. I smoothed out my shirt and I huffed, throwing it back up on the ottoman, and walking into the kitchen to my mom, my bare feet getting a chill from the cold tile flooring.
"Yeah, sure." I said, following her through the door to the garage. It was dusk, the sun just barely touching the horizon, stringy pinkish-orange clouds streaking the desert skyline.
I saw Charley walking up our street with his useless motor bike, which after his many ambitious attempts, still refused to work properly.
My mom opened the hatchback of her car and began shoveling a few Century 21 Real Estate signs on stakes into the car, and I followed her.
"How was school?" She smirked at me. I arched my eyebrow at her and smirked back, "As good as school can get, I guess."
I yawned again, given I had barely slept the last few nights due to that history report, which was due tomorrow. I needed it to graduate, and I was working my ass off on it.
She rolled her eyes while smiling, going to get more signs, "You need a attitude adjustment, Blair."
I simply shrugged, knowing she was right. Living in a suburb right outside ofLas Vegas, my neighborhood was surrounded by desert. It was this giant cluster of homes, pretty much the same design, and then just road to nowhere in particular. After that long stretch of road, you hitLas Vegas. I lived in the house with my mother and Charley, and my father ducked out.
Charley walked up the driveway, a frustrated look on his face. He looked like my dad, with that short, curlier hair, slender face, and brown eyes, which we shared in characteristic. I recieved my mother's lank blond hair, and rawboned figure. I didn't mind, as long as I didn't look like my dad. I harbored hard feelings towards my father, and lately, had been shooting those negative feelings at my brother.
Speaking of which, Charley had changed quite a bit over the past few years. He used to be a dork of sorts, and now all he wanted to do was hookup with Amy, or impress Ben and Mark, two complete douchebags from our high school. He'd even kicked his now ex-best friend, Ed Thompson, to the curb. Charley wasn't the Charley I used to love and bond with, which was lately straining our relationship in the worst way.
"Bike not working again?" I asked absentmindedly, upholstering a few more signs and stakes into the hatchback, pushing a strand of lank blond hair out of my face.
"Thing won't even run," Charley sighed, hitting the handlebars, "Blair, let me take the car."
"No way, it's in bad condition. I need to get the engine and tires checked. If you can't handle a bike, then you can't handle my car." I pointed out, eyeing up the junky motor bike as Charley shuffled it into the garage.
My car was a pretty rickety 1969 Chevy Camaro Z28, the red paint chipping and the two white stripes on the front were almost gone, fading with age. The car was pressing it's usage, feebale with age. I got it with the money after babysitting non-stop for around a year and a half. It wasn't the most reliable or attractive car, but it got me around.
"Why do you think? The thing's a piece of shit. It was working in the 40's and 50's." Charley grunted, crossing his arms at me, "Nevertheless, it's still better than a bike that won't work."
"It's a '69 Camaro, dipshit. That's not the 40's and 50's." I snapped.
"Hey! Enough with that language!" Mom interrupted, looking between the two of us. I rolled my eyes and continued helping her with the real estate signs. Charley was persistant, "Mom, she always gets the car!"
"Take it easy." She said, looking at Charley and I, "Now help me with this, then we'll talk."
Charley and I huffed and continued to help her. Mom looked into the yard of the house right next to us, the Perryman's old house. My mom was really anal about yardwork and she was pretty much a neat freak. The new guy next door, who'd moved in the other day, had a massive green dumpster on his front lawn. Mom huffed snottily, putting a hand on her hip and shutting the hatchback of her car.
"Mom, would you stop creeping? They guy's going to be weirded out that the woman next door is staring at his house. It's just a dumpster," I insisted, "No biggie."
She turned to look at me, "Blair, I'm trying to sell houses, not turn people away! Look at that thing, it's an eyesore! Who keeps a giant green dumpster on their front lawn?"
"Apparently, the new neighbor does." Charley cut in, shrugging. "Blair's right. It's not a big deal, Mom. Really, he'll probably get rid of it soon."
"When the Perryman family lived there..." Mom began her usual ramblings, but Charley cut her off, "But they moved. They don't live there anymore."
"If he doesn't move that dumpster within the next few days, I'm going to say something to him." Mom shrugged, shutting the hatchback and locking the car.
I rolled my eyes at my mother's nosiness, but began heading back inside to finish that history report, "We haven't met or seen the guy yet. He just moved in. Give him time."
"And where are you going?" Mom asked, arching her eyebrows at me.
"History report, remember?" I smirked at her, jerking my thumb to the house. Before she could answer, a lime green Volkswagen Beetle Convertible rolled up to the beginning of our driveway, with four girls sitting inside. The driver was Amy, Charley's kind-of girlfriend.
"Hi Blair, Mrs. Brewster!" She gave a smile and waved. I smiled a little, and Mom exclaimed, "Hi, honey!"
I looked at Charley mischievously, "Guess you don't need my Camaro, right?" Charley smugly imitated me and then smirked at me, "No, I don't. See you guys later."
Charley ran down the driveway to Amy's Beetle, but my mother stopped him. I stood at the top of the driveway, arms crossed. "Hey, Charley. Wait a minute." I called.
"What?" He asked, looking up at us.
"Ed Thompson called. Charley, you can't keep giving him excuses to not hang out with him. If you just don't want to talk to him, then just be up front with him and just say so," Mom sighed, looking hopelessly at Charley.
"That would kind of defeat the purpose." Charley shrugged, then ran to Amy's Beetle, hopping in the car.
"You can't ignore the poor kid forever." I called after Charley, who shouted back over his shoulder, "Watch me!"
I rolled my eyes as the Beetle sped down our street and out of sight. I really wondered how Charley became the asshole big-shot he was now. Ever since he began hanging around Amy, Mark, Ben, and that whole group, he'd changed drastically. He completely shut out Ed. Okay, so Ed was a little radical and dorky, but him and Charley had been inseperable. Now, Charley pretended he was never friends with him. I guess Charley was just growing up in his own strange way.
Fact was, we were growing apart at a violently rapid speed.
"I'll be back in a little while, okay?" Mom said, kissing my forehead, "Lock the door, don't let anyone in, you know, the whole deal. Call me if there's any problems."
"Mom, I'm eighteen. I think I'll be okay." I smirked at her teasingly.
"Okay, okay. See you when I get home." She rolled her eyes with a smile, getting into the driver's seat of her car, "And finish that history report, okay?"
"Got it," I replied hastily.
She nodded, putting the keys into the ignition, reaching back to the back of her seat, and pulling out of the driveway. I waved as she drove away, feeling the cool pavement on my bare feet, looking as the darkness began to fall on the desert, the sun almost down.
I walked into the the garage to close it behind me, but I took a second glance up at the new next door neighbor's house, due to curiousity.
Little did I know that the next few nights would be a living hell.
