April 5, 1996
Dear Diary,
I've been invited to a party by my admirer. I'm reluctant to write his name until I know if he's serious or not. That way, if he's not, I can more easily forget about him. Isn't that silly?
Besides that, I don't have much planned for this spring break, which is fine with me. I'll read and stuff my face and help Mom around the house, even if there's not much to help with. Mom is always on top of it. We've only been here a month and yet the house looks like it's been lived in for a year, in a good way. She's made it a home. She's always had a talent for brightening whatever room she walks into.
Despite this, however, the other day I walked by the guest room. Mom was there, on her knees, leaning over the bed. It looked like she was praying. But I think she was crying. I can only guess that she was thinking of whose room it would have belonged to. Dad doesn't want me to ever talk to her about it, though. They both like to pretend I don't even know.
But to keep it all bottled in the way she does. Nothing good can come of that.
Judy picked up Christina at nine the following evening. Her parents waved to the girls as Christina buckled up.
"Mom wants you over for dinner sometime."
"Oh, I'd like that," Judy replied as she pulled off. "I can make lemon squares—wow, you look nice!" she exclaimed, taking in Christina's ensemble for the occasion: fitted jeans and a black blouse with lace detailing. She accessorized with one of her favorite traditional beaded necklaces and matching earrings, a gift she had received from a cousin on her father's side on the day of her quinceañera. She wore the slightest bit of eyeliner, blush, and nude lipstick, something she didn't much bother with on normal days. Her hair was parted in two long braids, a few wavy tendrils framing her face.
"Really? I was afraid I made myself look like Wednesday Addams with my hair like this and the black top."
"Yeah, a hot Wednesday Addams!"
"Gross," Christina chuckled, and then, taking in her friend's equally polished appearance, added sincerely, "You look really cute yourself, Judy."
"Thanks! So…" Judy raised her brow at her friend as she turned a corner onto Ulrich Street. "Your parents were okay with you going to a party?"
"I promised I'd be back by midnight. I hope that's okay with you. They still want me to go to church with them tomorrow…and I may have made it seem like there was going to be parent supervision."
Judy made a face that could only communicate "yikes," her lips pulling back into a nervous smile, blue eyes widening.
"I didn't explicitly lie!" Christina went on, hoping to justify herself, "they've got no reason not to trust me. I'm a good student. I don't act up. I deserve to go to a party even if it's unsupervised. What did you tell your parents?"
"My parents really don't care what I do as long as I don't bring them any trouble," Judy said matter-of-factly, and the straightforwardness of her answer took Christina by surprise. There was an underlying sadness in the words, regardless of how unperturbed Judy looked—or attempted to look—as she approached the end of Ulrich Street and continued onto Trout River Lane.
Was this why Judy was so inclined to perfectionism, so eager to outperform in school? Was she trying to impress her parents who were either too busy or passive to care? All she had told Christina so far was that her father worked in one of the business offices in downtown Woodsboro, and that her mother was a homemaker, much like her own. The thought of Judy feeling neglected at home, despite her persistent overachieving, upset Christina. She deserved better.
The Carpenter house came into view on the corner. Judy pulled to the side of the street, behind a line of other cars. The sound of music was immediately discernable even before she killed the engine.
"Wow," Christina breathed as the two began to walk the quaint brick stone path that split down the middle of the vast green lawn. The house was adorable with its white exterior and dark roofing; a massive dollhouse of sorts. She didn't know why she was so impressed, though—nearly all of the houses in Woodsboro she had seen so far, including her own, were this attractive. Perhaps it had to do more its occupants, specifically the one who had made it a point to request her attendance that night…
Judy touched the handle of the front door to find it unlocked. The lights were dimmed, and the music seemed to make the walls shake. Christina gulped. She was truly in the lion's den now. A real high school party.
She counted maybe forty or fifty kids as she explored the first floor of the house with Judy at her side, looking for John. Some of them she recognized as kids she shared classes with, although it was hard to be sure as many of them were chugging beers, stuffing chips or popcorn into their mouths, or attached passionately to the mouth of another.
Finally, they found John in the kitchen leaned over the island, tending to a large plate of nachos.
"Hey, you made it!" he said, a genuine warmth in his tone. As if there was no one else in all of Woodsboro he so desperately wanted to see than Christina. She flushed as he leaned in for a hug. He was considerably taller than her, and his strong arms seemed to crush the entire length of her back. She didn't mind. "You're right on time, I was about to top off these off with some jalapenos. Hey Judy," he added, noticing the blonde next to her.
"Hi, John. You know you really shouldn't leave the front door unlocked like that? A psycho killer could've walked right in."
"There's no psycho killers in Woodsboro. Well, except that Cotton Weary guy," John laughed, and took a swig of the open beer at his side. "Whoops, I shouldn't have mentioned that. Don't wanna scare Christina."
"It's okay, John, I've already told her about it."
"Luckily I don't think Billy brought Sidney tonight, so I can slip up a little."
"Billy Loomis is here?" Christina inquired.
"Yeah, he came with Stu Macher. I didn't exactly invite them but…meh, who cares? It's a party."
"They're creeps," said Judy. "Both of them."
"But they're harmless creeps."
John grinned all the wider and reached over the nacho plate to retrieve two unopened beers. He offered them to the girls.
"Oh, no thanks, John," Christina declined softly. "I don't drink and Judy's got to drive. Uh, some water would be nice though?"
"Hey, I can do that too." He opened the fridge behind him and handed them two ice-cold bottles of water—one of those fancy, expensive ultra-purified brands. "Enjoy the party, ladies…oh, and, Christina"—he bent down to lean into her a little, the smell of beer faint on his breath—"come talk to me before you leave, wouldja?"
Christina nodded, turning away before he could see her face redden any more. She grabbed Judy's hand and pulled her down the entrance hall to the living room, where the party was in full swing. Unscrewing the cap of her water, she proceeded to chugging half of it down at once, feeling the plastic crunch and contort in her grasp as she gulped. It was delicious, and sweet relief spread across her in cold waves.
You've got nothing to be nervous about. He likes you. And maybe you like him? Whatever happens tonight, just have fun. You never let yourself have fun. You feel like you can't because of—
"Truth or dare in the dining room!" someone shouted over the music, pulling Christina from an indiscernible amount of time in her thoughts as Judy danced, completely unaware. "Last call for truth or dare in the dining room!"
"Come on," said Judy, tugging at her arm. "It'll be fun."
At least ten other teenagers had already gathered around the long table, drinks and snacks in hand, including Billy Loomis and Stu Macher. They sat at the other end from where Judy and Christina were able to pull up a chair. Billy's eyes and Christina's briefly met, much like they had that day in study hall. Her response was the same; she blushed and looked away. He always looked so…intense. There were permanent shadows beneath his heavy-lidded eyes, and even as the corner of his lips turned up in a smile, it looked menacing. Like a perverse imitation—some greasy-haired ghoul masquerading as a teenage boy.
John entered the room, downing the last of his beer and slamming it dramatically on the table to draw the attention of the group.
"All right, listen up, you degenerates." He crossed the room to close the sliding doors that separated the living area from the dining room, muffling the music from the other side, and then turned to address his captivated audience. "We play fair in this house. So there's a few rules. Rule number one: what happens in truth or dare stays in truth or dare. Rule number two: don't be a dick. And rule number three: don't be a pussy, either. Agreed?"
The crowd raised their drinks and cheered in acceptance. The game began inoffensively enough: a cute rosy-skinned blonde named Casey Becker that Christina recognized from English was dared to kiss the cheek of her female neighbor. She leaned over and gave her a friendly smooch without so much as blinking. The circle clapped at the display.
The game continued clockwise, with each participant being asked "truth or dare?" by the person to their right who had just went. There were a few surprised utterances when Stu Macher opted for truth. He was asked if it was true that Casey had dumped him for Steve Orth, or if he had dumped her for Tatum Riley.
Stu licked his lips and grinned, his eyes darting to Casey across the table, who shifted in her chair uncomfortably. His face was so elastic, his smile always so wide, almost unnaturally so. He looks like Jim Carrey in The Mask, except he's the actual mask, Christina thought, and suppressed a small laugh.
"Neither," Stu answered. "It was a mutual break-up. And there's no hard feelings. Right, Casey?"
"Yeah, no hard feelings," Casey Becker replied quietly, not looking at him.
Finally, it was Billy Loomis's turn. Stu turned to his friend and clapped him hard on the back.
"Billy, my good buddy," said Stu, "truth or dare?"
"Dare," said Billy without hesitation.
"Good choice, good choice! Hmm…" Stu paused, bringing a hand beneath his chin to evilly twirl an invisible beard like an old-timey movie villain. He looked around the table, eyeing his enthralled schoolmates. "I dare you to…kiss the girl here that you think is the cutest."
A scatter of scandalized "ooohhhs" erupted from the table.
"Seriously, Stu?" someone asked. "What about Sidney?"
Christina gulped again, now all the more nervous. Such a spectacle would certainly not help the cheating rumors, if they were really as gossiped about as Judy had made them out to be. For some reason, Christina wanted very much for them not to be true—for Billy Loomis to be a good, loyal boyfriend to Sidney Prescott, a girl she had yet to even speak to. She just seemed so sweet, so genuine…and after what had happened to her mother, the least her freaking boyfriend could do was not be a cheating asshole.
"Hey, Johnny laid out the rules," said Stu. "What happens in truth or dare stays in truth or dare. And if any of the ladies here would take issue with getting a little kiss from our poor Billy boy, they're free to voice that."
None of the girls at the table objected. In fact, some of them looked rather excited—save for Casey Becker, who leaned back in her chair and averted her gaze. Even Judy seemed to tense up in apparent anticipation. Billy rose from his seat—tall and looming, a blue plaid button-up over his white shirt—and moved across the room with a confident purpose. It was then that pure horror ripped through Christina's core, for she realized with a start that he was not contemplating his options—no, he had already decided. And he was headed right for—
Judy sucked in a sharp breath as Billy passed her. He was now directly on Christina's side. Naturally, she looked up, not knowing what she was expecting to happen, or if he was really there at all. Then, Billy Loomis was touching his hand beneath Christina's chin, leaning down, and placing a firm, swift peck directly on her mouth.
Author's note: If you are enjoying Scream Your Heart Out (or, at the very least, remain interested enough to keep reading), please let me know in the review section! As a fanfic author, even the shortest comment can be very motivating to get what I have written edited and published faster. Thank you for reading!