Pretty Little Dead Girls
Page 17
Oliver scribbled notes over the next fifty minutes and understood every word. He wrote melody lines in the margins for fun, and when the teacher walked by, he watched Oliver, nodding. Not impressed, but approving.
The bell rang. Oliver gathered his things.
He saw her.
Half notes swirled in his stomach; a bass clef stuck in his throat.
She glowed, but she didn’t really. She floated, but she didn’t really. Her hair danced while she walked, and it shone.
She was a girl.
No, she was a star—like from outer space. Not the kind in movies.
Oliver gulped down the sensation of drowning. He sat back in his desk, pretended to fumble through his pack for some nonexistent item he desperately needed—anything to make sure she didn’t leave before she—
She left.
Oliver stood, bewildered by the other students, making sure each had been blinded like him.
No one else had noticed.
7
Oliver was wrong; another boy had indeed noticed, and was already several steps ahead.
8
Oliver had never been a large child, but never a small one either; he was just the right size for a boy with no ambition to participate in activities where brute strength was a factor. This should be noted for later.
9
It was another week before Oliver finally gathered his courage and sat next to her. “Hi,” he almost whispered.
“Hello,” replied the girl.
“I’m Oliver.”
“Hello, Olly.”
“Oliver.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Olly,” the girl replied with a surprising amount of terseness.
Oliver frowned, dug his pencil into his desk. “Well? What’s your name?”
The girl leafed through some papers, didn’t bother looking at him when she answered, “Why would you want to know that?”
Oliver blinked. Did people really ask questions like that? He’d figured out girls were weird. This was different.
But her eyes—they were worth some weird. He kept on. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“There are reasons not to want to know me.”
Oliver flashed the most dashing smile he could. “I can’t imagine one.”
“Oh?” sighed the girl, and she stopped leafing through those papers long enough to look at him.
Oliver’s heart froze. There was that feeling again: She wasn’t a girl, she was more than that. She’d be the reason he’d do something incredible, or at least something stupid. There was a sadness in her face he couldn’t quite put his finger on, and it made him instantly angry, like he wanted to punch whatever was responsible.
He opened his mouth to say more—the bell cut him off. The girl’s attention snapped to the front of class.
Oliver clenched his teeth and gave up. “I’ll write you a song!” he almost yelled.
She turned, smiled.
It was something. It was a start.
10
Months passed, and somewhere between lectures the Star Girl spoke up, without prompting on Oliver’s part—a new development. “Will you be attending the party Friday night? The one at Teddy’s?”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “No.”
“I am,” she said in a voice like a swirl of colors.
“So am I. Totally.”
11
Oliver hated parties, and not for the obvious reasons: He didn’t think he was better than the others, or smarter, or destined for greater things. Boredom, on the other hand—it weighed upon him. Parties were terrible. And boring.
So boring.
That night classmates got drunk and Oliver watched it happen. They kissed people they wouldn’t want anyone else knowing about the next morning. Terrible music blasted from the hands of a first-time DJ fancying himself a pro.
“This party sucks!” Oliver said, louder than he meant to.
“Of course it does!” replied Donavon Clemons, grabbing on to Oliver’s arm. “Boring, right? Come on, follow me.”
Oliver begrudgingly followed to the driveway. A half dozen boys stood gathered around the car parked there. It must have had an impressive engine, or paint job, or something. Oliver had no idea. It was loud when the key in it turned.
“Oliver!” Teddy Baker called. He barely looked at him and added, “Didn’t think you’d be around.”
“Hey, Teddy.”
“Good party? Having fun?”
“Sure, I mean—”
“Hot girls all over the place, right?”
“I guess.”
Teddy flipped off the stereo, popped out from the driver’s side. “It sucks.”
“Yeah.”
“I know,” nodded Teddy. “Things’ll get interesting. We’re gonna kill her. Tonight.”
“Kill her?”
“Bryony.”
He didn’t have to say the name. Oliver already knew. “They’ll catch you. You and your friends.”
Teddy nodded, “Sure they will, but why’s that matter? Killing a girl meant to be killed. We did a service, you know? Now no one else has to bother with it. We’re heroes—taking one for the team.”
The other boys smiled, nodded at each other in ways that turned Oliver’s stomach.
“She likes you, Teddy,” said Oliver.
“Even easier, then.”
“No, I mean, she really likes you. Like, you could date her. She’d—”
“Come on, Oliver,” sighed Teddy.
Oliver shook his head, let out a sigh of his own. “Where’s it gonna happen?”
Then Teddy smiled. “The desert. The Dead Rocks. Make it a spectacle, you know? Like a movie.”
“Like a movie,” repeated Oliver. “She trusts me.”
“Yep.”
“She’ll go if I take her.”
“That’s what me and the guys were thinking.”
Oliver scanned over the group, saw it in their eyes that they’d killed her already. He took a breath. “Yeah, ok. I’ll see you guys out there. The Dead Rocks?”
“The Dead Rocks.”
12
It wasn’t hard, luring Bryony. “Teddy Baker will be there,” Oliver told her. “Said he wants to ask you something.”
“About . . . the dance?” Her excitement was painful, beautiful the way it burst.
Star Girl.
“That’s the rumor,” Oliver half-smiled. He held open the car door, waved her in.
And like that, they were off to the murder.
13
It was a mistake, stopping too close to the Dead Rocks.
“Oh, look!” The Star Girl gasped. “Do you really think—”
“Quiet!” Oliver snapped back.
She asked three questions that night.
“Why are they carrying sheets?”
Oliver shrugged, bit his tongue. “Making banners, I’d guess. Teddy said he was gonna make it like a movie. Asking you to the dance, I mean.”
“And shovels?”
Oliver cleared his throat. “Heard of the Nazca lines? Things you can’t see until you’re way up high? Like, in a helicopter high. Teddy said he wanted to ask you there big. Maybe something like that?”
The Star Girl nodded, understanding.
“What about those barrels? And the fire?”
“Fireworks,” replied Oliver, and even he was surprised at how natural the lie came out.
“Oh.”
Lies were heavy, Oliver learned. They stacked upon each other, until Oliver did the only thing he knew how.
“Wait here,” Oliver said.
He got out of the car.
14
“Hey, Teddy.”
“Olly, what’s up? Where’s Bryony?”
“Back in the car. She thinks you’re gonna ask her to the dance.”
“Classic! We’re almost ready, so get her, huh?”
“Yeah. About that.”
Sometimes there just had to be blood, and Oliver swung with every ounce. His fist connect
ed with Teddy’s face. He felt his knuckles crack; a vision-blurring spark of pain shot up his arm.
A second swing; Oliver didn’t feel anything at all.
The third swing Teddy’s jaw gave way.
“Speak to her again! Say a word to her again! See what happens!” Oliver screamed in Teddy Baker’s bleeding ear.
After that Oliver swung in eighth notes. He lost count how many times.
15
Someone told.
The suspension was supposed to last three days - just the right amount of time for Oliver to finish the song he promised her.
On the third day, he received a letter from school.
Apparently, Teddy Baker’s father wasn’t happy with the way his son’s face looked and he’d made a ruckus.
Apparently, that was enough.
Oliver’s three-day suspension became permanent expulsion.
Oliver changed schools, to one where they didn’t have music classes.
He never saw the Star Girl again.
16
Oliver grew older; he wondered if she was still alive.
He thought she probably was.
THE END?
Not if you dive into Mercedes’ other books:
Nameless: The Darkness Comes—Luna Masterson sees demons. She has been dealing with the demonic all her life, so when her brother gets tangled up with a demon named Sparkles, ‘Luna the Lunatic’ rolls in on her motorcycle to save the day. Armed with the ability to harm demons, her scathing sarcasm, and a hefty chip on her shoulder, Luna gathers the most unusual of allies, teaming up with a green-eyed heroin addict and a snarky demon ‘of some import.’ After all, outcasts of a feather should stick together . . . even until the end.
Little Dead Red—The Wolf is roaming the city, and he must be stopped. In this modern day retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, the wolf takes to the city streets to capture his prey, but the hunter is close behind him. With Grim Marie on the prowl, the hunter becomes the hunted.
If you enjoyed this book, I’m sure you’ll also like the following titles:
Wind Chill by Patrick Rutigliano—What if you were held captive by your own family? Emma Rawlins has spent the last year a prisoner. The months following her mother’s death dragged her father into a paranoid spiral of conspiracy theories and doomsday premonitions. But there is a force far colder than the freezing drifts. Ancient, ravenous, it knows no mercy. And it’s already had a taste . . .
Tales from The Lake Vol.1 anthology—Remember those dark and scary nights spent telling ghost stories and other campfire stories? With the Tales from The Lake horror anthologies, you can relive some of those memories by reading the best Dark Fiction stories around. Includes Dark Fiction stories and poems by horror greats such as Graham Masterton, Bev Vincent, Tim Curran, Tim Waggoner, Elizabeth Massie, and many more. Be sure to check out our website for future Tales from The Lake volumes.
Flowers in a Dumpster by Mark Allan Gunnells—The world is full of beauty and mystery. In these 17 tales, Gunnells will take you on a journey through landscapes of light and darkness, rapture and agony, hope and fear. Let Gunnells guide you through these landscapes where magnificence and decay co-exist side by side. Come pick a bouquet from these Flowers in a Dumpster.
Eidolon Avenue: The First Feast by Jonathan Winn—where the secretly guilty go to die. All thrown into their own private hell as every cruel choice, every deadly mistake, every drop of spilled blood is remembered, resurrected and relived to feed the ancient evil that lives on Eidolon Avenue.
Through a Mirror, Darkly by Kevin Lucia—Are there truths within the books we read? What if the book delves into the lives of the very town you live in? People you know? Or thought you knew. These are the questions a bookstore owner face when a mysterious book shows up.
Samurai and Other Stories by William Meikle—No one can handle Scottish folklore with elements of the darkest horror, science fiction and fantasy, suspense and adventure like William Meikle.
The Dark at the End of the Tunnel by Taylor Grant—Offered for the first time in a collected format, this selection features ten gripping and darkly imaginative stories by Taylor Grant, a Bram Stoker Award® nominated author and rising star in the suspense and horror genres. Grant exposes the terrors that hide beneath the surface of our ordinary world, behind people’s masks of normalcy, and lurking in the shadows at the farthest reaches of the universe.
If you ever thought of becoming an author, I’d also like to recommend these non-fiction titles:
The Writers On Writing: An Author’s Guide Series—Your favorite authors share their secrets in the ultimate guide to becoming and being and author. With your support, Writers On Writing will become an ongoing eBook series with original ‘On Writing’ essays by writing professionals. A new edition will be launched every few months, featuring four or five essays per edition, so be sure to check out the webpage regularly for updates.
Horror 101: The Way Forward—a comprehensive overview of the Horror fiction genre and career opportunities available to established and aspiring authors, including Jack Ketchum, Graham Masterton, Edward Lee, Lisa Morton, Ellen Datlow, Ramsey Campbell, and many more.
Horror 201: The Silver Scream Vol.1 and Vol.2—A must read for anyone interested in the horror film industry. Includes interviews and essays by Wes Craven, John Carpenter, George A. Romero, Mick Garris, and dozens more. Now available in paperback, as well.
Modern Mythmakers: 35 interviews with Horror and Science Fiction Writers and Filmmakers by Michael McCarty—Ever wanted to hang out with legends like Ray Bradbury, Richard Matheson, and Dean Koontz? Modern Mythmakers is your chance to hear fun anecdotes and career advice from authors and filmmakers like Forrest J. Ackerman, Ray Bradbury, Ramsey Campbell, John Carpenter, Dan Curtis, Elvira, Neil Gaiman, Mick Garris, Laurell K. Hamilton, Jack Ketchum, Dean Koontz, Graham Masterton, Richard Matheson, John Russo, William F. Nolan, John Saul, Peter Straub, and many more.
Or check out other Crystal Lake Publishing books for your Dark Fiction, Horror, Suspense, and Thriller needs.
BIOGRAPHY
Mercedes M. Yardley is a dark fantasist who wears stilettos, red lipstick, and poisonous flowers in her hair. She is the author of the short story collection Beautiful Sorrows, the novellas Apocalyptic Montessa and Nuclear Lulu: A Tale of Atomic Love and Little Dead Red, and the novels Nameless: The Darkness Comes and Pretty Little Dead Girls: A Novel of Murder and Whimsy. She often speaks at conferences and teaches workshops on several subjects, including personal branding and how to write a novel in stolen moments. Mercedes lives and works in Sin City with her family and menagerie of Strange and Unusual Pets. You can reach her at www.abrokenlaptop.com.
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