Gina, her smooth, black-as-night hair pulled back into a bun, and her slim form covered in an old, torn sweatshirt, stared at the dinner plate of pulled chicken, broiled yams, and the side of an overdone vegetable medley in disgust, her lips pursed and her faint eyebrows raised.
Her mother, noting her daughter's discomfiture, asked sharply, "Something wrong with your meal?"
Gina, however, was not the least bit concerned with the less-than appetizing spread before her; something else was clawing at her heart and making her uneasy.
Yes, that was it - her stunt at the Halloween party!
How could she have actually been so obnoxious...?
Still, that thing with the punch got a few laughs out of everyone...and the look on Gwen's face was priceless!
Gina chuckled despite herself as she poked at the steaming chicken before her; she just loved being evil!
Without warning, her mother's shrill voice echoed from out of the kitchen - "Gina! Hurry up with your food! Mark's game begins in a half-an-hour, yes?"
Oh, shit...I almost forgot!
Stuffing a spoonful of yams into her petite mouth, Gina quickly began to devour her meal rather ferociously; she needed to get to the field a good ten minutes early to practice her cheer, and she still had to change!
xxx
Mark jogged across the field, sweat from his brow trickling down into his eyes and stinging them.
Grunting curses beneath his breath, he hurried over to a tall, imposing man that stood next to a dilapidated concession stand, a silver, high-pitched whistle in his mouth.
Coach Callaway was not the sort of person you could describe as 'compassionate', 'sympathetic,', 'caring'...
No - in fact, the forty year old man, who had been balding seemingly since birth, had quite a reputation in the small, dreary little hamlet Mark and his family called home; known for his aggressive, controversial coaching methods, Harold Callaway was the living embodiment of rage, competitiveness, and fury.
And now he would no doubt have Mark's head.
"Ten minutes late," Coach Callaway muttered as Mark approached, panting - he had run all the way from the parking lot.
"Sorry, Coach," the teenager breathed, football mask and gloves in hand. "It won't happen again, I promise - I-I just fell a little behind on my schoolwork..."
The middle-aged man merely chuckled, frightening Mark - he had never even heard his coach giggle.
"Then I guess you'd better start managing your time better, huh?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing.
Mark gulped.
"I'll try, Sir..."
"'Try', 'try' - is that all you lousy ingrates know how to say?" Coach Callaway mocked. "Do you even realize how much time I take out of my weeks to ensure that our team is remotely comparable to the other regional squads? How do you expect us to win a single game if our star player misses nearly half of our practices?"
Mark smiled despite himself - the coach had just called him their star player!
"I'll make it a mission to be here on time next practice, Coach," Mark boomed, filled with pride and confidence. "I can handle my school responsibilities too, so don't worry about that."
Coach Callaway grinned slightly, and patted Mark on the shoulder.
"You're sweet little mother has a right to be proud of you, son," he beamed. "The main thing is, you've got to keep thinking about the team - it's not about you, it's not about me, Hell, it's not even about our opponents! It's all about the team. Remember that, boy."
Mark nodded as he dashed out onto the field, shoving the helmet over his head.
"I will, Coach."
xxx
Later that evening, Gwen was roused out of her sleep by a soft hand gently prodding her.
"Wha - ?" she mumbled, barely able to keep her heavy eyelids from closing shut over her weary pupils.
Struggling to adjust to the moonlight that was shining in through the windows of her bedroom, Gwen squinted once or twice before the image of her mother came into focus.
"Mom...?" she breathed, her voice hoarse.
The woman before her smiled slightly, brushing the hair from out of Gwen's eyes.
"Hey, sweetie," Mrs. Stevenson whispered, stroking her daughter's pale hand. "Mind if I sit down with you for a minute?"
Gwen blinked her eyes several times in an attempt to lull herself from out of her terror-induced nap.
"No - sit," she said, propping herself up. "I could use some company."
Mrs. Stevenson, smoothing out the cresses in her bathrobe, took a seat atop the plush bed, staring intently at Gwen, her eyes filled with worry.
"You know you can tell me anything, Gwen," she began, cocking her head to one side. "Whatever happened today - whatever you and your friends got involved in - you can tell me."
Gwen, her lack of sleep taking its toll on her personality, struggled to smile.
Don't you understand? It's all too complicated to explain...
Kristen Greenwald, Stevie Parker, Kevin Dixon, Miranda Cortez...how could her mother possibly understand how deep Gwen was in a situation involving a slew of murders?
"I...I really don't know where to start..." Gwen mumbled, rubbing her eyes.
Mrs. Stevenson, however, was persistent.
"Start from the beginning." she prodded.
The beginning...what's the beginning? How can I even hope to -
"That officer who drove you home - Sheriff Haskell, I believe - said that you and a few others stumbled across...b - bodies at the lake," her mother said, interrupting Gwen's thoughts. "Gwen...I-I don't even know what to say...how did this happen?"
For the first time in what seemed like eons, Gwen found herself at a loss for words.
Her voice cracking as if she had a severe case of strep throat, she muttered, "Mom...it...it was an accident...we...Erin and I, I mean...we bumped into Nathan and Nicole on the way to the lake...we wouldn't have said anything, but Erin had left her coat there after the party..."
Gwen suddenly froze, her jaw dropping - she had said too much!
Mrs. Stevenson, too, had caught her daughter's slip.
"Party? What party?" she demanded, livid. "Is that where you snuck out to last night? Gwen, why on earth - ?"
At that moment, the bedroom door opened, and Mr. Stevenson, a short, tired-looking man with glasses and a receding hair line, stuck his head out through the opening.
"Dearest," he whispered to his wife, "Maybe it would be better if we both talk with Gwen tomorrow - I think she needs some sleep."
As was to be expected, Mr. Stevenson did have quite a bit of trouble dragging his wife back downstairs, but once she was finally left alone, Gwen found herself unable to fall back asleep.
"You can tell me anything Gwen - you know you can tell me anything..."
But what could she tell?
Could she tell her family that an insane predator was on her trail, willing to kill anyone that got in his way?
And what could the others do but lie, also?
They were in too deep - Gwen could see that now.
It was meant to be an adventure - an exciting way to start their final school year together.
But already two of their classmates were dead, struck down by a faceless killer that was seemingly capable of exterminating them all.
But how - why?
Why them? Because they had seen too much, because they had uncovered some secret?
The party - of course! It all traced back to the party!
They had been trespassing...trespassing in Camp Crystal Lake...
And now someone wanted to make them pay the price.
Someone...
Jason.
xxx
Gina, her straight black hair flowing in the light autumn breeze, hurried across the parking lot's uneven macadam in the direction of the football field.
In the distance, she could see the other Clearmont High cheerleaders prepping for the upcoming game.
She hoped she wasn't too late.
xxx
Chloe, as Nicole led the remainder of the high school girls in their cheer, slipped her sleek cell phone out of her pocket, flipping it open and frowning in frustration.
No message from Derek.
Weird...
xxx
Nicole sighed tiredly as one of the cheerleaders collapsed to the ground after attempting a somersault.
Idiots.
Why can't everyone be as perfect as me?
Grunting, she pushed the freshmen girl aside, and executed a perfect cartwheel, her tanned legs twisting and turning like skilled acrobats in the air.
Upon landing, she straightened her back and stood with her arms gracefully spread out, giving her the appearance of an elegant ballet dancer.
Instinctively, the other cheerleaders (excluding Chloe, who was busy with her phone) clapped, shouting out praises at their squad captain.
Nicole smiled - it felt good to be loved.
But, honestly, who didn't love the soon-to-be-crowned Homecoming Queen?
Well, her parents, for one.
She had been lucky to have been allowed to attend the game, after that pathetic tantrum her mother had pulled after receiving a phone call from the Sheriff's department.
Miranda and Kevin's deaths had rocked Nicole's life - in one short day, she had gone from being the apple of her parents' eyes to being their whipping post.
She did, however, have a responsibility to her cheerleader squad, so she had run out the door the second her father cracked and gave in to her wish.
Now it was almost 7:30, and the football game, the fourth of the season, was about to begin.
Nicole looked over at Chloe - the poor girl was in love, and her good-for-nothing boyfriend hadn't even bothered to respond to her frantic messages.
Stupid Derek... Chloe can do so much better...
Yawning, she turned her attention to what was really eating away at her.
Nicole hadn't said a word about Miranda or Kevin to anyone - the evening papers had already been printed, anyway, so they'd all find out sooner or later.
How could anything like this ever have happened...?
It had been such a shock to see one of her closest friends being dragged out of the murky lake, her body cold and waxy and her eyes cloudy and yellowed.
And then there was Kevin, his head smashed against his own steering wheel, his neck snapped...
Nicole shuddered at the thought - she'd probably need therapy in a matter of weeks, after the horror truly set in.
She'd never see either of them again...
Shaking her head in an attempt to rid herself of such awful thoughts, she turned her attention back to her squad.
They had a new cheer to learn.
xxx
Nathan's eyes fluttered open as a loud crash echoed from downstairs - his mother must have dropped a pot in the kitchen or something.
Damn...just as I fell asleep.
Sighing, he propped himself up in bed, his bloodshot eyes staring at the clock on his nightstand - 7:35.
The football game was already underway.
Sorry, Mark - I'm not coming tonight.
It had been such an agonizing day, and Nathan could not imagine being shoved up against some drunken idiot while sitting on the bleachers.
And besides, he had such a terrible headache...
I wonder if Derek's there - he hasn't answered any of my texts...
With a lazy yawn, Nathan allowed himself to drift back to sleep.
xxx
Erin, however, had much more trouble relaxing than Nathan.
Restless and afraid, she had curled herself into a fetal position atop her uncomfortable bed, her entire body trembling as if she was locked outside in the dead of winter, chills running up and down her spine.
Blood...so much blood...
Unable to get the image of Kevin's battered corpse out of her head, she shoved a pillow over her face as if to smother herself and had cried for what seemed like an eternity.
Now, drained of tears, Erin could do nothing but lie in her room, awaiting the inevitable -
Whoever killed them knows what we found...
That one sentence plagued Erin's mind for the entire night, striking her and tormenting her just when she thought she was safe.
How could they escape someone who had already butchered two teenagers in cold blood?
It was madness - sheer madness...
If I hadn't forgotten that stupid jacket...oh my God, I'm going to die because of a damn jacket!
The party - if only she had been smart enough to stay home!
My parents were right - I should have known better than to just waltz in on some party that I wasn't even invited to...
Why did I let Gwen convince me? Why did I let her drag me there?
That awful lake - that was where this all started.
And now...that thing in the water was free...
Free to kill them all.