Slasher Summer(14)

Now that her initial panic had died, she realized how silly it sounded. Why would anyone try to kill her? And a man wearing a mask underwater? It was like something out of a horror movie. She’d gotten tangled up in seaweed, and after Freddy had claimed he’d seen the Slasher, her brain had jumped to this ridiculous conclusion.

She gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah. I must’ve imagined it. I got caught up in some seaweed and freaked out.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re all right,” Carrie said.

Tiffany returned the girl’s hesitant smile. “Me too.”

Jen still had her head turned toward the lake, brow crumpled in a frown, as if she were looking for someone. A shiver ran down Tiffany’s back, even though she’d finally warmed up. “What is it?”

Jen turned back to her, the frown vanishing so quickly Tiffany wondered if she’d imagined it. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”





5



Carrie

    Carrie toweled her hair dry by the fire, glad she’d cut it for the summer. It was much more practical than her old hairstyle, and a sign she was ready for change. Her therapist had congratulated her when she’d shown off the new cut at their last appointment. It was a step toward moving on from the past. A symbolic trimming of the dead weight that had been holding her back.

Jen had started on a second beer, clinking her bottle against Carrie’s. That little action comforted Carrie. She felt welcome, like she was part of the club again. Thankfully, everyone was pretending she hadn’t run into the woods like a ninny when she’d first arrived. She’d been full of resolve in the car, but seeing Jason had stolen her courage. His face had lived rent-free in her head for so long, it was jarring to see him in the flesh again. Like meeting a celebrity in person when you’d only ever seen them on TV.

She was grateful to Jen for coming after her and cajoling her to come back. “Fuck ’em,” Jen had said, reinforcing the reason Carrie had come. She couldn’t control how others felt about her, but she could control her own feelings about herself.

Her new attitude was working. She hadn’t thought twice about stripping down when Tiffany had screamed for help. Carrie had learned you could be embarrassed only if you let yourself be, something she wished she’d known four years ago when the photo—The Photo—had been shared all over school. The whole incident would’ve blown over if she’d kept her head high. If it had been Jen or Tiffany in her position, they would’ve flaunted their audacity and everyone would’ve moved on when the next person did something outrageous.

Therapy had helped Carrie realize she shouldn’t blame herself for having been so mortified. It made sense she would’ve reacted that way, with her mother’s unhealthy obsession with sin and shame. Having audiences shout Virgin! at her, night after night at the Rialto, had also messed with her head.

In a way, the incident had been a good thing. Carrie had fled town and moved to Vancouver to live with her father for the rest of her high school senior year. Mama had been furious, if only because the child support payments had been cut off. But Carrie had been able to start over again. Without any scrutiny. Literally. Her dad and stepmom were kind, though a little absent. They had Carrie’s younger brothers to take care of, and Carrie was well-behaved and practically an adult. That lack of supervision suited her just fine. She’d had enough judgment from Mama and her classmates at Cedar Lake High.

Carrie blotted her face with the damp towel, and when she lowered it, Mikey—no, Michael—was staring at her, like he used to in high school. It was kind of sweet. He was cute—not as handsome as Jason, obviously—but he shared the same glacial blue eyes, and he’d matured a lot these past few years. Just as she had.

She smiled shyly at him. “Hi, Michael.”

He gave her an awkward half grin, a flush rising up his neck. Okay, maybe he hadn’t changed that much. But hopefully he’d changed in the ways that counted.

Speaking of change, Tiffany had calmed down. Carrie was surprised it hadn’t taken that long. Tiffany had always liked to position herself at the center of any drama. That was what had put her on top of the high school pecking order when they were teens.

Tiffany had been the opposite of Carrie in every way. She was rich, outgoing, and always looked like she’d stepped out of the glossy magazines Carrie used to save from the recycling bins of the motels and homes she cleaned on weekends. After Mama had tiredly shuffled to bed, she’d thumb through them late at night, dreaming of a life outside of school and church and the dumpy apartment.

Tiffany could be nice, but she liked you to stay in your place. When The Photo had leaked, she’d taken it as a personal insult. Carrie had been fired from her housecleaning job, obviously, but Tiffany’s influence had made her a social pariah, too. Maybe Carrie shouldn’t have gone for a friend’s ex, but the in-crowd at Cedar Lake High was always switching up partners, and Michael had told her he’d seen Tiffany getting hot and heavy with some new guy in the observatory parking lot.

Tiffany just couldn’t stand that someone like Carrie would try to aspire to date the most popular guy at school. She spread the story that Carrie had tried to steal her boyfriend, even though she and Jason had been broken up at the time. Carrie hadn’t been able to walk anywhere without boys yelling at her to take off her top, or girls giving her the stink eye for being a home-wrecker. She’d spent those first few weeks of her senior year throwing up in the girls’ bathroom during lunch as if it were that easy to purge her regrets, while her phone pinged with concerned texts from Michael. She’d been too ashamed to reply to him.