Night had fallen, and the lights in the Jarvis house glowed brightly. The moon shimmered on the surface of the lake, and the waves softly crashed against the sandy shore, pushed by the cool, night breeze. The symphony of all the nocturnal animals coming out to make their calls was in full swing.
Mrs. Jarvis stared nervously out the kitchen window above the sink, looking out into the pitch black darkness. She couldn't stop thinking of the news report. She couldn't stop thinking about the murders. Ten bodies...they had said on the news. And there were even more bodies that had been found across the lake. Of course, the lake was big and stretched across many miles, and although it was on the same lake, it was probably pretty far away. But not far enough, she thought. Not far enough to put her mind at ease.
She was nearly missing the tomato she was trying to slice and had almost nicked herself with the large butcher knife. Her knuckles were curled tightly around the handle. She kept getting distracted from looking down at the cutting board and glancing at the doors, and the windows. She had been paranoid all night. The last three times she had peeked out the kitchen window, she could have sworn she saw something move. Was it just the way the tree branches were casting shadows? Or just her imagination?
Tommy and Trish had no idea that the last two days, there had been a maniac running amok across Crystal Lake. But she just couldn't bring herself to tell them. Even though Tommy loved making those terrifying masks, and played all those violent games...he could still get scared. She faintly remembered their apartment in the city getting robbed, and Tommy couldn't sleep for weeks afterwards. She had come home to the door jimmied open, and a ransacked office and kitchen, and Tommy standing there frozen with terror, his eyes glassed over, almost in a trance.
For the next two or three months, he would cry out in the middle of the night, prompting her to have to run in and rock him back to sleep. She couldn't imagine how he would react if she told him there had been a killer on the loose. After all, he was dead, wasn't he? The guy was dead. But somehow, her mind wouldn't let her believe it. She hadn't turned on the television all morning. She didn't want them to see anything about it, and it wouldn't do her any good to watch it either. She looked over at Tommy, who was setting the table for dinner. Should she tell him about it? She thought. Just so he would be careful? She was about to open her mouth, when Trish walked into the kitchen, eyeing the casserole dish of tuna salad on the stove that Mrs. Jarvis was preparing.
"Aw, mom, I thought we were having pizza for dinner," Trish said.
"I thought so too, but the refrigerator is full of leftovers," Mrs. Jarvis said, cleaning her hands with a dishrag. Trish frowned.
"You're not smiling. You aren't in the mood for my tuna salad?" Mrs. Jarvis asked.
"Well…" Trish sighed, disappointed. She glanced over at Tommy, who walked over towards the counter to grab another plate. Mrs. Jarvis and her daughter gave each other a devious look. They both began to sneak towards Tommy, who looked on with displeasure, shaking his head and backing away. Trish came up from behind him, and they sandwiched him in.
"I know what I'm in the mood for…" Mrs. Jarvis said, grinning deviously.
"No….no!" Tommy protested, but it was too late. They both wrapped their arms around him, and pinned him in between the both of them.
"A Jarvis sandwich!" Trish and her mother cried, mock-laughing maniacally and squeezing the struggling Tommy as tight as they could.
"Wait, wait, I heard something at the door," Tommy exclaimed.
"Oh, no, I'm not falling for that," Mrs. Jarvis said, hugging him tighter as he wriggled free from her grasp.
Tommy broke free and moved towards the door.
"No, I heard that too," Trish said.
He was right. Something was scratching wildly on the door. Tommy swung open the door and was greeted by a large, shaggy golden retriever leaping up on him and licking the side of his face.
"Hey, boy! Hey, Gordon," Tommy greeted the excited family dog, tousling his silky fur.
"Where ya been, Gordon? You been sneaking around?" You got a girlfriend or something?" Tommy cooed playfully, as Gordon unfurled his tongue and pawed at him in response.
Gordon hopped down and trotted happily into the kitchen, where Mrs. Jarvis and Trish both petted him affectionately. Gordon was a stray they found a few months after moving to Crystal Lake. He was wandering around their property for about a week, and he eventually became the family pet. Mrs. Jarvis had gone and put up flyers around town, but nobody claimed him, so they gave him a name and he had been with them ever since.
Tommy began to close the front door, when he got a glimpse of two headlights coming down the country road, cutting through the inky black darkness.
A 1973 Chevrolet came to a stop in front of the rental house next-door, and there was a loud clamor as the six teenagers piled out of the car.
"Hey, I think those kids that rented the house next door are here," Tommy said, stepping out onto the front porch, and eyeing the two slender dark-haired girls that climbed out of the back.
His eyes grew wide. He had been homeschooled for as long as he could remember, and he had never seen a girl so pretty. They were both gorgeous, especially the girl with the darkest hair. He felt a tingling sensation in his stomach. What was happening? He thought to himself. It was just a girl. Why did he feel so weird? She wasn't that attractive. Oh, who was he kidding? She was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid his eyes on. And she was going to be living next door to him for the next few days, maybe even for an entire week.
Trish stepped out beside him, calling back inside to her mother.
"We're gonna go say 'hi'," Trish said, and closed the door.
Trish and Tommy climbed down the rickety porch steps and walked down the path towards the rental house. The rental house was a Victorian-style, clapboard two story bungalow with a balcony and a sprawling porch; a big, octagonal picture window overlooked the front yard. The two slender dark-haired girls getting out of the backseat of the car, noticed them and waved. Gordon came bounding up behind Trish and Tommy and leapt up on the prettier of the two girls, licking her enthusiastically.
"Oh!" Samantha cried, giggling. "Hey boy!"
"Gordon, bad dog!" Trish exclaimed and swatted him away.
"Oh, he's alright," Sam said. "I'm Samantha."
Sam shook Trish's hand.
"Hi, I'm Trish and this is Tommy. We're the Jarvis's. We live next door," Trish introduced herself amicably.
The girl with the lighter hair extended her hand.
"I'm Sara," she said, shaking Trish's hand. "Nice to meet you both,"
Tommy stood, frozen with fascination. The prettier of the two girls, Samantha, was wearing a low-cut top and her cleavage was almost too much to handle. He had never seen a pair of breasts before. He knew girls had them. But he had never actually seen this much of them before. His hands were beginning to sweat, and his heart was racing. Sam bent down to pet Gordon, and his eyes fell right down her blouse.
"What a handsome mutt you are," Samantha said, laughing, her breasts practically falling out of her top.
"His name is Gordon," Trish said, noticing Tommy's blank expression. She followed his gaze to Samantha's well-endowed assets.
Trish gave him a dirty look, and swatted him. But honestly, she was checking out a few of the guys herself.
Two of them were standing at the trunk, heaving suitcases out of the back and putting them into a pile. One was really good-looking, and the other was decent, she decided. The good-looking one was tall and lanky, with a head of thick black hair that reminded her of Elvis, wearing a pair of sunglasses. They both wore straight-legged jeans that made the muscles in their legs show, and wore stylish dress shirts and slicked back hair. She saw some of them were carrying graduation caps, and surmised they had all dressed up for the ceremony.
Another suave looking guy in a blue baseball cap called out to an attractive, dark-haired guy to throw him a beer. The dark-haired guy tossed him a can of beer and carried the rest of the case into the house. The guy in the baseball cap popped the lid, took a swig, and cheered. Samantha giggled and rolled her eyes.
"That's Paul acting like an idiot," she said. "And that's Jimmy and Ted,"
She pointed to the two guys standing at the trunk unloading the luggage.
"Hey, Doug, come meet our neighbors!" Sara called to the dark-haired guy coming out of the house.
It wasn't the guy with the baseball cap, or the guy who looked like Elvis, but he was attractive too. He almost bore resemblance to a young Shaun Cassidy. Trish's hands were beginning to sweat too. She wasn't keeping up with their names; she just smiled tightly and tried not to stare. She wanted to say something, anything; nothing came out but just more standing and smiling.
Doug, as Sara had called him, came running over to meet them, shaking Trish's hand with a firm grasp. His wavy, dark hair fell over his sparkling green eyes.
"This is my boyfriend, Doug," Sara said, smiling.
Trish felt a slight disappointment that he and Sara were together, but she smiled anyway.
"I'm Trish, and this is my brother Tommy,"
"You guys live around here?" asked Sam.
"Yeah, right there," Trish said, pointing back towards the house.
"Cool. Looks like we're going to be neighbors, for the next three days, anyway," Doug said, smiling.
He was gorgeous, Trish thought. He was tanned and muscular, and his teeth were perfectly straight. But who was she kidding? She certainly didn't have the body of Samantha or Sara.
"Well, if you guys need anything, we're right next door," Trish said, figuring they would take the hint and offer an invitation.
"Sure thing," Samantha said with a cheerful grin, tossing her jet-black hair behind her shoulders.
She was drop-dead beautiful, thought Trish. There was no way she wasn't hooked up with one of these guys, if not two or three of them. Her perfect olive complexion and hourglass figure were to die for.
"We'll see you around," Trish said. "Let's go back to the house, Tommy,"
She tugged him gently on the arm, but he was still mesmerized by Samantha.
Trish yanked on his sleeve more firmly, and he finally succumbed, following her back to the house.
As the climbed the porch steps to their house, Trish took one last glance back at the rental home. The guy that looked like Elvis was leaning against the porch railing, sipping a can of beer and talking to Paul. Samantha ran up beside Paul and pressed her body against his, and Paul lifted her up into her arms and spun her around. Samantha guffawed with laugher, swatting at him.
"Put me down!" she cried playfully.
Trish sighed, watching as the handsome guy in the cap set Samantha on the ground and kissed her passionately, his hand groping her buttock.
Trish smiled weakly, and shook her head wistfully. For the longest time, she had been so lonely. Living out in the middle of the woods never brought her any friends, much less, a boyfriend. The last boyfriend she had was in the sixth grade that she was forced to part from when her mother pulled them out of the city and dragged them out to the middle of nowhere in a hick town called Crystal Lake.
Away from civilization.
She tried going to the local high school, but it had been a disaster. The whole school treated her like an outcast because she was from the city. They called her names, and she sat by herself at lunch. Much to her chagrin, Mrs. Jarvis pulled Trish out of that terrible influence, and settled in at home where she had been homeschooled up until now. Now, she almost wished she had just begged her mom to let her stay, that she could handle the bullying, but she had just gone along with it.
She didn't like not having many friends; all she had were the ones that she kept in touch with back in the city. And her mother was in no way interested in moving back to the bustle of the city. She was dying to meet someone. She hoped that she could wait until she moved off to college, to some prestigious university in a big city, but she didn't know if she could handle the cabin fever much longer. How much longer did she have before she would totally lose it?
She was probably just being dramatic. After all, what was so wrong with going over and asking if they wanted to hang out? Why didn't anybody do that anymore? Why couldn't anyone just be honest and forthright with each other and explain your intentions clearly? Maybe she should just go over there and tell them all her family was driving her crazy and just come out right with it. But then, would they take her seriously or just rebuff her like the kids at school did?
Well, there was only one way to find out. Just be nice, she thought, and be cool. Just go over and talk to them, and let them get to know you.
Maybe she could go over and visit them before they left, but she wasn't sure if her mother would be all too pleased at Trish going over to party with a bunch of teenagers she had never met before until tonight. They were drinking, and looked way too rowdy for Tracy Jarvis's standards.
No...she would have to sneak over there when her mom went out jogging later, or when she went to bed before the weekend was over. What would be the harm in that? It would be good to socialize. She may even meet a foxy guy and start something, or just have a few drinks and maybe smoke a joint or two. My God, Trish thought. She imagined the look on her mother's face if she had ever said the word "marijuana" around her. She could hear her disapproving tone in her head. She hadn't tried grass before, but lots of her friends back home did it and she didn't see the big deal.
After all, she knew all about how marijuana was stigmatized in this country from reading books at the local library in town. She had read about how lots of anti-pot propaganda gave it a bad rep, and how a campaign mostly steered by Ronald Reagan started the war on drugs and now, weed was becoming one of the most frequently used illicit substances when in reality, it was a lot more comparable to alcohol, then say, heroin.
It was one of the safest drugs, and she had always been eager to try it but she worried about her mother smelling it on her if she were to come home in the middle of the night.
She would have to sneak out, she thought, and take a quick shower or something. She wondered how long they were going to stay. Don't get your hopes up, Trish, she told herself. They could be gone tomorrow. It was just a rental house. She may as well just forget it had even happened, but she still felt a tinge of excitement as she stepped through the side door of the house, just feet away from the huge figure bathed in black standing behind a tree.
Jason tightened his grip on the brown leather handle of the hunting knife, the blade still coated with the blood from the fat hitchhiker. Jason hadn't intended on killing her, but still, he felt no regret. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Jason walked around the side of the Jarvis house, seeing Mrs. Jarvis staring warily out the kitchen window at the rental house. Jason followed her gaze to the group of teenagers carrying luggage through the front door of the house, laughing and chatting...sounding so young and careless...and joyous...it sickened him. Jason felt the rage swell, and he took a heavy breath, struggling to contain the white streaks of fury and rage that flashed before his eyes, desperate to quell the burning lust that was a powder keg within him, ready to ignite. They were all the same, just look at them...touching each other intimately and enjoying themselves while doing it.
They were touching each other the same way that those two counselors who should have been watching him were touching each other.
Those two mindless teenagers who cared nothing about satisfying their selfish needs, heedless of anyone else's life but their own.
They were all the same. Now he knew they had to die. They all had to die. Eventually, they all proved they were just as repugnant as the rest of them.
He pictured his knife piercing the girl with the dark hair's soft flesh, the blade penetrating the flesh between her breasts, penetrating her heart. He pictured the blade slicing through the boy's toned body, ripping through tendons and ligaments until he stopped screaming, hacking away at his remains until there was nothing left. The visions he would have were so vivid and so salient that they made his mouth water, and his heart race...visions of blood...of screaming and entrails pouring out of wounds, and of eviscerated corpses.
Every time he killed and saw the glaring red of the blood spilling out of their worthless bodies, it soothed the tightness in his chest and the pounding in his head. Everything felt right again. But then, when he saw them touching each other and enjoying themselves, everything got loud again and he had to kill. There was no other way. He had no other options.
The voice of his mother guided him; the real-life manifestation of the deep pain that he felt ever since he watched his mother die as she fought for his life was more than enough to satisfy him, but only for a short time.
They all deserved punishment.
His mother had been right. He had to finish what she had started twenty-six years ago.
This Friday the 13th, they would all pay.
Samantha opened the door to the bedroom at the end of the hall and grinned at the sight of the queen sized bed.
"Looks like Paul and I are going to be having a lot of fun the next few days," Samantha laughed mischievously and turned back to Sara, who stood in the doorway smiling weakly.
Sam threw her luggage onto the mattress, unzipped it and took out a large vanity purse and headed for the bathroom.
"I need to freshen up," she said, taking out her ponytail and letting her jet black hair fall down on her shoulders.
Sara sighed and followed her into the bathroom, leaning on the doorframe.
Sam noticed Sara's subtle uneasiness in the mirror.
"Hey, what's the matter with you?" Sam asked, taking out a brush and combing it through her long, silky hair.
Sara sighed.
"I don't know how you do it," Sara said.
"Do what?"
"You know..." Sara said, gesturing to the bed.
Sam laughed.
"Have sex? I don't know how you don't,"
"You do it with everybody," Sara said, more to herself.
"I do not!" Sam protested, spraying a dab of perfume down her cleavage.
"I do it with Paul,"
"Really?" Sara said, skeptical.
Sara had heard all of the rumors at school about Sam's sexual escapades. She worried about her sometimes. What if she got a disease from some guy? What if she got pregnant? She would never forgive herself if she let her best friend ruin her life because she didn't say anything about her many lovers and sexual happenings.
"Come on, Sara, you know how guys are. They lie about that all the time. They say that about every girl,"
"They don't say anything about me," Sara said.
"That's because you don't have a reputation," Sam replied. "I mean, you and Doug have been dating for months and you've barely kissed him,"
"I have too," Sara said indignantly.
"Look, Sara, I got my reputation in the sixth grade. Don't you think it's time you and Doug..." Sam gave Sara a knowing look.
"I don't know..." Sara said, clearly uncomfortable about the subject." I mean, what does Paul think about you having sex with a bunch of guys?" Sara asked.
"Hey, Paul thinks I'm great in bed, so that's where I keep him. Seriously though, you should try it. It's a lot of fun. Burns calories too," Samantha said.
Sara sighed again, just wanting to change the subject.
"So, um, what are the sleeping arrangements?"
"Well, Paul and I are taking this room, and you and Doug can take the room next door," Samantha said, applying some bright red lipstick.
She noticed Sara's displeased expression.
"Don't worry, they're bunk beds,"
Samantha rubbed her lips together and turned to Sara.
"Hey, I don't mean to pressure you. If you don't want to do it, you don't want to do it. Sex is like skydiving. It can be scary at first, and you have to just jump without thinking about it. Once you're in, you can't go back but it's amazing," Samantha explained, leaning against the bathroom counter.
Sara smiled.
"Thanks. I just don't think Doug would want to do it with a girl like me,"
"Oh, please. He really likes you. I see him look at you the way Paul looks at me. Trust me, he's a guy. He wants it bad,"
"You think so?" Sara's face began to feel hot and she blushed.
"Yep. He definitely does. But just let loose and have some fun this weekend and don't worry about the sex stuff. If you aren't ready, then you aren't ready,"
She was right, Sara thought to herself. She would have the time of her life out here. Her and Doug could finally get to have some alone time and it wouldn't necessarily involve fucking. They could sit on the shore of the lake and talk or go for a hike. It was going to be an amazing weekend and she needed to stop worrying so much. After all, what was there to worry about?
Sex was a lot simpler than people often made it out to be. With anything, there are risks involved, and you should understand those risks and take some responsibility for your actions. Girls like Sam didn't really do that, but who was Sara to judge? After all, Sam had a lot of sex but it was at least with Paul, and Paul only. She wasn't a homewrecker. There are a lot worse things you can be than someone who enjoys frequent sex. Even casual sex. Sara hated the stigma against it. Maybe her subconscious mind was somehow buying into it. Maybe that's why she hadn't let Doug go there with her.
Maybe it was because they just weren't right for each other, but she knew that wasn't it either. Doug was one of the sweetest people she had ever met. It had to be him. If she was going to do it this weekend, it had to be him.
It was now or never, she thought. They would be graduating soon, and she didn't want Doug to be the one that got away. Life was way too short to not take too chances.
Life was far too short.
Mrs. Jarvis took a long, slow sip of her tea, staring out the window at the rental house. All of the lights were on and she could hear faint music coming from within.
There was no telling what they were all doing in there, Mrs. Jarvis thought to herself.
But they are just kids. She did some wild things growing up herself, or at least, things that were considered wild in her time.
"How long are you going to keep spying on those kids?" Trish asked, curled up on the sofa with a book.
Mrs. Jarvis chuckled.
"I just hope we are going to be able to get some sleep with them partying all night long,"
"Surely they can't stay up much longer," Trish said.
Mrs. Jarvis crossed the room and sat in the armchair.
"Well, I think I'm going to hit the sack," Trish said, standing and heading for the staircase.
"Goodnight, sweetie," Mrs. Jarvis said. Trish leaned down to hug her.
"Are we still on for tomorrow morning?"
"Yep. Once around the lake," Trish replied.
"Alright. Check on Tommy and make sure he's in bed. Goodnight," Mrs. Jarvis said as Trish disappeared up the staircase.
Mrs. Jarvis shifted position in the armchair, looking down at the remote on the coffee table. Should she watch the news? She'd just end up spooking herself out of her mind, and Tommy and Trish usually could tell when something was bothering her.
Then she'd have to tell them all about the murders, and she didn't want Tommy to be upset. Last time he was scared about something he would come in around two in the morning and want to sleep with her in her bed, and she never got a wink of sleep those nights.
She thought twice, and picked up a magazine, leafing through it.
Jason was watching her every move as she yawned, tossed the magazine onto the table, stood up and headed for the staircase.
"Tommy, are you brushing your teeth?" Mrs. Jarvis called, rapping on the bathroom door.
"Yes!" she heard Tommy reply through a mouthful of toothpaste.
"Ok, I'm going to come tuck you in in a few minutes," she said and walked down the hallway to her bedroom.
Tommy spit into the sink, rinsed with a glass of water, and turned off the faucet.
He walked out of the bathroom and into his room at the end of the hallway.
Tommy's bedroom looked like every sci-fi aficionado's dream: Sci-fi and horror movie posters plastered all over the walls, a few high-tech game consoles next to a computer monitor and processing system on a sturdy desk, action figures lined up in rows on shelves, and about a dozen rubber masks hanging from the ceiling and about a dozen more displayed on a large wooden bookcase by the door.
Tommy crossed the room to his bed, and as he climbed in and started to lay his head on the pillow, he caught a glimpse out the open bedroom window.
A smile crept across his face as he realized he could see across the yard into the upstairs bedroom of the rental house.
It was the tall, slender brunette of the group and she was standing in front of a mirror, brushing her long hair.
Tommy felt his heart racing a hundred miles a minute, and his hands began to feel clammy.
He moved closer to the window, and he cackled with excitement as the girl pulled off her shirt.
What was happening?
What was so exciting about this? It was just a girl.
That was the thing. It was a girl, and for some reason not comprehensible to his twelve-year old mind, he was in love.
He watched for about a minute, biting his nails in anticipation. Sam was with her back to the window, watching the door as Paul walked in and they began to kiss.
Tommy giggled impishly, struggling to control himself as the adrenaline and other hormones pumped through his system, and blood began to rush to his head and his extremities. He kept watching in silent fascination, as Paul reached behind Sam's back and slowly unclasped her bra. It fell to the ground.
Tommy thrashed around in pure delight, kicking his legs up in the air as if he were a wind-up toy and someone had just wound him up and let him fly. He bounced up and down on the bed with joy, and turned back to the window, his eyes wide.
Then he heard his mother's footsteps down the hall.
In a split second, Tommy dove down onto the bed in a sleeping position and began to make his best fake snoring sound.
The bedroom door opened, and Mrs. Jarvis crossed the room to the bed, where Tommy was curled up under the covers, his eyes shut tightly.
She smiled and leaned down to kiss his forehead. She gently tousled his hair, and turned to leave, when she saw the cracked window.
She went to close it, saw the view, and gasped.
Mrs. Jarvis glanced back at Tommy, who was still snoring loud as ever with his eyes shut tight, and she shook her head, chuckling to herself.
She sighed, closed the window, and shut the curtains. Nice try Tommy, she thought to herself. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt that he hadn't been spying on those kids, and just leave it alone. After all, she had been spying herself. She admittedly was anxious about all those teenagers… they'd probably be drinking, smoking, leaving their trash and beer bottles in the yard, and have the whole woods be smelling like dope the next few days.
But hey, maybe they were good kids. Maybe Tommy could make some friends and stop being shut in his room making those scary masks, and Trish could meet some friends or maybe a boy...that thought made her even more anxious.
It was hard for her to talk about those kinds of things with Trish...but at least, she was a girl. And Mrs. Jarvis knew about women. But she didn't know what to say to Tommy, and she didn't feel like admonishing him now. How could she blame him for being curious at that age?
Mrs. Jarvis headed for the door, turned out the lights, and left, closing the door behind her.
Tommy opened one eye to make sure that she was gone, and sat up quickly in bed, looking at the blocked view with disappointment.
What was that girl's name again? The one with the black hair that fell around on her shoulders, the one with the huge...chest...
Sam, Tommy thought. That's her name. Sam...
Tommy laid back down and shut his eyes, repeating her name over and over in his mind until he fell asleep.
"So, where is this Crystal Point?" Sara asked, sitting down on the couch beside Doug.
"My buddy told me all about it. You just take the trail around the lake and it's about half a mile," Paul said, kissing Sam on the neck, who was curled up in his lap in the armchair.
The rental house had a bungalow vibe. The main room had two sofas and an armchair facing a television set back in a polished mahogany cabinet, a grand piano, and a dozen paintings and knick-knacks. The decor gave it a domestic feel but it was obvious they were just placed there to make it feel like you weren't just staying in a rental and to allow you to suspend reality for at least a little while. In the corner was a turntable with stacks of vintage records adjacent to either side.
The main room was divided into an apartment-sized kitchen complete with old-timey pots and pans racks and a dining room.
"It's supposed to be a lot of fun," Paul continued. "He said there's an old tire swing, but he wasn't sure if it was there anymore,"
"Wait, are we swimming? I didn't bring my bathing suit," Samantha said.
"You know what that means," Paul grinned deviously, nuzzling Sam's neck. "Skinny dip!"
Samantha giggled flirtatiously, but stopped when she saw Sara's eyes grow wide.
"Don't you think we shouldn't be skinny dipping when there's a family right next door?" Sam said, swatting at Paul.
"They can join in," Paul said, guffawing.
Sam rolled her eyes as he kissed her neck playfully.
Ted was sitting at the table, playing a handheld video game when Jimmy walked into the kitchen, heading to the refrigerator.
"Have you called Betty?" Ted asked.
"No, Ted," Jimmy sighed with exasperation, grabbing a beer from the bottom shelf.
"Come on, Jimmy, you got to try to get her back,"
"No, Ted, you know what, I don't," Jimmy retorted, moving towards the table. "I've come to realize that you can have a good time without girls,"
Ted looked up from his game and wagged his finger like a scolding mother.
"That's a sin, you dead fuck,"
Jimmy pushed his finger away.
"I really don't want you to call me that anymore,"
Ted stood up and playfully punched Jimmy in the stomach.
"Oh come on, Jimbo, can't take a joke?" He patted him on the shoulder. "The computer don't lie,"
"There is no computer," Jim said.
"Ah-ah…" Ted grinned, shaking his head.
Jim groaned.
"And there's no Betty either,"
Back in the main room, a fire crackled softly in the fireplace, and Paul took a poker, and moved the logs around gently.
He sat back in the armchair cuddled up next to Sam.
"That family seemed nice," Doug said, putting his arm around Sara.
"Yeah, that Trish girl was kinda hot," Paul remarked. Sam punched him in the arm.
"Hey!" she exclaimed.
"What? I wouldn't mind her coming down to hang out with us, that's all,"
"Maybe we can see if she wants to come with us to the lake tomorrow morning," Sara chimed in, toying with a strand of her hair.
"We can invite her mother, won't that be nice," Paul joked. Sam hit him again.
"You are such a pig," she said.
Sara began to think about the idea of all of them skinny-dipping. Maybe she could just sit on the dock and read a book or something. But she didn't want to be the only one not joining in. It wasn't that she was insecure about her body. Or maybe it was. She had stared at her naked body in the mirror long and hard on several occasions, just to see if she was sexy or not. She really didn't have anything to compare it to, but she thought she looked okay.
Only Doug had never seen it before.
What if he didn't like it? What if Sam looked better than her? Surely, Doug wasn't that shallow, but isn't that how all guys are? All they care about is how a girl looks.
Hopefully, Doug didn't find the idea too inviting either, and the two of them could go for a walk.
She didn't know what she'd do if they all saw her naked. She hardly knew Paul, Jimmy, or Ted. She would completely freak out if anyone saw her so vulnerable like that.
She just might die if that happened.
She just might die.
