filled with dry blood. And his hands. They were covered the worst.
What did you do, Daddy?
He held me, smearing blood on my chest with his own.
I made mistakes. Huge mistakes. I’m sorry. Just know that I’m sorry, Cookie …
After he was gone…I’d stared down at my hands and Tinkerbell t-shirt, now soaked with a stranger’s blood.
And that’s when I heard the gunshots and saw my father hit the ground …
I shuddered, body quivering…my mind drifting back to the present—another bloody scene. More horror. They don’t call it Horror High for nothing …
“Someone attacked her from behind and attempted to cut her damn head off.” I don’t know who said it; there was a group of freshman boys behind me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe again. Coach Davis corralled us all back outside, barking orders as more police sirens rang.
Detective Simms arrived with nearly six other officers.
Probably the entire police force of Harrow Hill , I realized.
“Everyone stay outside!” he barked, causing me to jerk, then stiffen.
Was the psycho who did this still in the building?
Dakota clutched my hand in hers, squeezing it hard. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
No, it won’t. Nothing will be okay. Someone cut off Genevieve’s nose. And now someone attempted to slit Brittani’s throat!
I wanted to scream those words out at the top of my lungs, waking up all these stupid idiots.
“Guys, come over here, please.” It was Coach Davis talking, using her commanding used-to-be-a-cheerleader pep voice.
“The police are here. We’re going to be okay. And Brittani’s in good hands. She’s probably already getting checked into Harrow Memorial.” The basketball coach, who was also Coach Davis’s fiancé, was talking to the boys. I could hear him giving a similar speech.
Is this supposed to be a pep talk?
Voices buzzed, like a steady hum of pissed off bees. The way Coach Davis said it, it sounded like Brittani was going into the hospital for a minor checkup.
Someone tried to cut her head off, for Christ’s sake!
“Coach Davis, will we still have tryouts tomorrow?”
Without turning around, I knew Mariella was the one asking. “You selfish little bitch,” I muttered before I could stop myself. I stared at her, ready to smack her if I had to, but Coach Davis grabbed me by the arm.
“What Amanda is trying to say,” she said, giving me a warning glance, “is that tryouts are the last thing you all should be worried about. At this point, we might not even have tryouts this year…”
Wait. What?
As much as I wanted to tackle Mariella for her inconsiderate, ill-timed question, Coach’s words felt like daggers in my own chest. No tryouts…as in, no cheering at all this year?
I fought the urge to cry. Standing quietly by the doors of the school, we waited for the police to release us. By the time they finally came back out, it was nearly dark outside. I could see Jordan and Lauren in my periphery, holding hands and talking in whispers. Winter caught me looking and frowned. “Are you okay?” she mouthed, looking more concerned than ever. I rolled my eyes.
If one more person asked me if I was okay, I really would smack somebody.
Finally—thankfully—Detective Simms and his deputies said we were being released. They were toting plastic bags of evidence, loading them inside their squad cars.
“All of the basketball players and cheerleaders are accounted for?” Detective Simms asked Coach Purnell.
Coach Purnell nodded.
“Besides Brittani. She was the only one expected for tryouts who didn’t turn up today,” Coach Davis said, standing next to me.
“Good. Please, everyone call your parents immediately and have them come pick you up. I will be meeting with each of you within the next couple days…for questioning.”
“I don’t need to call my parents. I have my own car.” Ronnie stood with his hands on hips, still looking disheveled and distraught.
“No cars are to leave this