Cheerleading Can Be Murder (Horror High #1) by Carissa Ann Lynch Page B

finish it. Maybe we can try to get some work done again tomorrow?” he suggested hopefully. At the mention of tomorrow, I realized that it was almost Monday and time to find out if I’d made the squad.
    “Okay. Let’s try again tomorrow night. If it’s okay with my mom,” I said, walking toward the door. He followed, walking me out to my mom’s car like a gentleman. Before I could even introduce him, he stuck his hand through the open passenger door and shook my mom’s hand. Boy, he was turning out to be quite the charmer!
    “I’m Andy. I have American History with Dakota. Thanks for letting her come over,” he said politely. My mother was the queen of polite introductions and she seemed to be enjoying this moment.
    On the ride home, she was mostly quiet, but smiling. As we approached our street, she said, “He seems perfect for you, Dakota.” Having conversations with my mom about boys was slightly embarrassing, so I looked away, my cheeks heating up. But I couldn’t help smiling as I stared out the window, watching the rows of houses fly by. I had to agree with my mother. Andy does seem pretty perfect , I thought dreamily.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter
    Twenty-Seven
     
     
    The Sociopath
     
    I stuffed notebooks and gym wear inside my backpack, all the while balancing a can of Red Bull in my right hand. I needed to hurry, or else I’d be late for first period. Tossing my drink in the trash can by my bed, I quickly tied my shoes and stared at my reflection in the spotted up full length mirror.
    “Today is the day.”
    I opened the closet door and removed the gun. Mossberg 500, that’s what it was called. There was a heat shield over the barrel, with a pistol grip instead of a buttstock. It held eight shells, nine if you counted the one in the chamber…
    A fine piece of American artillery that had belonged to my grandfather. Now it was mine.
    I could hear the hiss of the bus’s air brakes…it was only a few stops away.
    Quickly, I slid the Mossberg into my backpack. It was barely short enough to fit, but I just managed to get the zippers closed around it as I heard the bus screech to a halt outside. I took off running down the steps.
    Today is the day.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter
    Twenty-Eight
     
     
    Dakota
     
    When I opened my eyes, I knew that the day had arrived. Sunlight streamed through the gap in my curtains, illuminating my entire bedroom. A narrow beam of dust particles floated above my bed. Just like I always did when I was little, I reached up and tried to grab it.
    Today was the day when the names of the new varsity squad members would be announced. I couldn’t wait! I threw the covers off and started getting ready for school. I wasn’t much of a morning person, and even if I had been, I wasn’t one of those girls who took a long time getting ready. I pulled on a pair of stretchy leggings with shiny star patterns and topped it off with a tank top and loose fitting tee. I slipped on a pair of ballet flats, tied my hair in a perky bun, brushed my teeth, and applied a light coat of lip gloss.
    “You look beautiful,” my mother said as I came galloping down the steps, taking two at a time. There was this tiny electric buzz surrounding me; I was so excited! This was going to be a day I’d never forget.
    My mom was feeding Vincent in a highchair, and I leaned down to give him a kiss. His lips were slobbery and stained with juice, but I didn’t care. He was starting to develop a little personality all of his own and he grinned up at me, shaking his little fists in the air. “I’m excited too, little man.” I smiled at him happily.
    “Eggs and bacon on the stove,” my mom offered, but I already knew that based on the rich, smoky aroma filling the air. I rarely saw my dad anymore, as he usually left for work before I got up and worked until late at night at the radio station. I miss him , I realized, chewing on a bacon strip thoughtfully. At least he’s not