Welcome to Skull Creek Massacre- this is the first chapter that I'm writing. F AL SE Gamaliel is still beta-ing this, so she's still here. Disclaimer: Skeleton Creek does not belong to either of us, me or F AL SE Gamaliel.
"Thanks!" Sarah yelled, leaning against the door that concealed a set of stairs. Up the stairs led to the McCray's small apartment, which was Sarah's destination.
"Yeah," Ryan replied, allowing a grin filled with mock-disapproval. "I hear you. Just be quick."
"Why?" Sarah said, her expression unconcerned. Honestly, she didn't care what her obstacles were. Ryan's mom and dad were out doing something, and Sarah had been granted permission to use the shower. Her hair was sticking to the back of her neck like it had been super glued there, and the heat was exasperating. If Ryan was letting her use the shower now, she could do it as fast as she needed to- be it in five minutes or five seconds. The only thing that she was worried about was getting in the shower and feeling normal again.
"My mom'll be back soon," He said, the smile melting off of his face just a bit as he explained.
"So? She's never cared before." Sarah replied, still not worried. Sure, her parents could be strict and unwilling and stuck-up. Ryan's parents, though? She laughed at the thought. That would never happen. It would be a cold day in hell before they did anything similar to the actions of her own parental units. Ryan's parents and Sarah's parents has survived the past eight years with as little contact as possible besides the necessary. That was no easy task, their children having been inseparable for most of that time. They made it through with as little contact as they could.
Sarah's mother had always slightly resented the fact that Ryan had (you could say) slightly corrupted her little girl. Mrs. Fincher was a stern, proper woman who believed that the material in life was all there ever was (She was never very religious). She counted her daughter as material, and when Sarah met Ryan, everything changed, from her clothes to her attitude to her outlook on the world around her. In the mind of Mrs. Fincher, those changes weren't for the better.
Sarah was totally aware of her mom's slight hatred (if you could even call it that) toward Mrs. McCray. She did what she could to stop it, which wasn't much, in the end. What could she do, really? There were only so many changes you could make before you start trying to mold yourself in to someone else's idea of perfection. That just wasn't something Sarah felt the need to strive for, her mother's idea of perfection, so she didn't ever really even bother.
Sarah didn't have a real reason set in her mind for the McCray's misunderstanding of her own parents. She didn't worry about that all that much, after all, Ryan's parents seemed to like her. What did it matter if they had problems with the people who gave her life? They weren't her, and that was fine.
At least, Sarah thought Mr. and Mrs. McCray had no problem with her being around all the time. She had assumed. How could they not like her even a little? She was a constant presence in their lives, eight years straight.
Ryan sighed, interrupting Sarah's thoughts, which had momentarily occupied her brain capacity. "They don't want us hanging around together as much as we have."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "It feels like the whole world is against us, sometimes, doesn't it?" She said, and before Ryan had time to reply, she had darted up the stairs and out of his sight.
The hours passed that day, and Sarah sat on her front porch in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, the summer sun shining into her eyes. It was getting late but the sun was still up, and Sarah was waiting for Ryan to call her. When he called, she could be sure that he was ready, and Sarah could jog over to his place, with her unprotected feet hitting the pavement quickly so she could get to his house fast. In a small bag by her feet Sarah had his present, which she planned on giving to him as soon as she saw him.
It was a tradition for them to forget to wear shoes when they go out on Ryan's birthday. It used to be a problem with Sarah's parents, but they never care about anything like that anymore. She used to have to run out the back door clad in flip flops only to abandon them a block and a half later. Sarah would grab them on my way back home, jamming them back onto my feet as she ran, racing against her curfew. She no longer have a curfew to challenge or parents who cared about the safety of her feet. It felt to Sarah like they had lost that element of danger, of euphoria, that comes with having a clock to beat. They used to find joy in barely escaping. They were reckless, but in a safe way.
Sarah's butt started vibrating. It was her phone in her back pocket, and Sarah'd be willing to bet anything that it was Ryan, giving her the proverbial thumbs-up.
"'Lo?" she answered, standing up and shoving her phone between her cheek and her shoulder while grabbing the bag with Ryan's present.
"Hey, it's me. Hurry up." Ryan replied, his voice muffled and shrouded by static through the phone. They live in a small town. The cell reception sucks, there's no help for it.
"I'm coming," Sarah replied, and she was off. Her phone was back in her pocket, the bag was slung over her shoulder, and her feet slammed against the pavement with a resounding thump, moving fast enough that she couldn't feel every sharp little thing that she stepped on. It was tradition and Sarah welcomed it. There isn't enough traditional things, she figured. She wished there were more.
The sun wouldn't start to set for a few hours. They had time, and they usually stayed out way past the setting of the sun anyway. They didn't have anything to worry about, time-wise, but Sarah ran anyway, for the sake of years' past.
She came up to Ryan's garage in what might have been record time, and she saw him standing there, waiting for her. He always stood there, and Sarah always ran up. It's pretty obvious that the most they had ever changed this particular celebration was that one time when they invited their friends.
"Here," Sarah said, forking over the present. It was in a bag because Sarah suck at wrapping. Ryan knows that.
"This is a really pretty bag," Ryan snickered. "I'm sure there's a lot of wrapping paper that's prettier, though."
"Oh, shut up." Sarah flicked his forehead, smirking back.
"Hey! Don't hurt the birthday boy!" He yelled, grimacing and feigning real pain. He clutched at his forehead, moaning.
"Zip it. You know I can't wrap."
"You never even try."
"Why try at something you know you suck at?"
"Now, Sarah, you will go nowhere with an attitude like that."
"Shut it. You probably got that line off of the television. Nice try."
A few more bickering responses later, and they had gotten it out of their systems.
"So, in that bag is your present," Sarah said, gesturing to the bag in his hands. "Also in that bag is the movies I rented for us to watch later. Do your parents have an issue with that?"
That was the first mention of what he had said earlier, and Sarah was trying my hardest not to make a big deal out of it.
"Yeah, we should be alright. Can I open it?" Ryan said, smiling. He seemed to want to get past that whole thing just as much as Sarah did, which was perfectly fine with her.
"Yeah, go ahead. It isn't much," Sarah had never worried all that much about what she had gotten Ryan, and she wasn't about to start now.
He reached in and grabbed out the couple of movies that Sarah had gotten, some random gore-filled horror flicks that they both knew were corny but admitted to loving anyway. He nodded approvingly. "Great selections," he said, and he was only partially joking.
He reached back in and grabbed out the actual present, a set of books on noveling.
"Wow, Sarah... this is interesting? I think?" He said in thanks, his words coming out in the form of a question.
"Eh, you write a lot. You always have. Think about it, Ry- these could be the books that get you published! Or something. I don't know. I got it off the internet, if you want me to return it," Sarah replied, slightly apologetic.
"Nah, it's cool. Maybe I'll try it. You can be the person I dedicate my first novel to. Thanks to my dear friend City, who got me a book for my birthday."
Sarah laughed. "Whatever. You're crazy. Are you ready to go to that cafe place? Or do you want to stand around insulting me and wasting daylight?"
"C'mon, let's get a move on. You're right, for once!" Ryan smirked, as he shoved the books and the DVDs back in the bag, sticking the whole thing on his porch. He grabbed my arm and yanked me off into the sunset.
"Ryan, you're pulling me the wrong way."
"Right. I knew that."