[ potential trigger warnings for the following: cannon typical violence, strong language, somewhat creepy behavior/stalking, sexual content, maybe religious trauma depending on your background but it's minimally mentioned, multiple love interests, and cheating ]

☆︎

GUESS SHE MADE FRIENDS.

☆︎ JUNE, 1995 ☆︎

Woodsboro, California was a small town, and because of that, it fell victim to the same curse that troubled every small town in America — there was fuck all to do for quality entertainment. On Fridays when football was out of season, your options were limited. You could hit up the movie theater or Blockbuster, you could gather your friends and harass a diner worker, or throw shit off the water tower while getting high. And if there was a party being held, it was tame in comparison to the ragers they'd all grown up seeing on television.

So, Indiana Winger knew that her summer before her junior year of high school would be boring as shit when she and her older sister packed up to move to the small town that was nothing like Raleigh, North Carolina, where they came from. Summer vacation had only started two weeks ago, meaning the young girl had two full months of having no friends and being alone before school started back and she could really get settled in.

She didn't like being alone — the extroverted sixteen-year-old craved people and crowds to keep herself distracted from thoughts about the real reason why she and her sister moved.

But, since Indiana didn't have any friends in Woodsboro yet, as they'd only been fully moved in for a day and a half, she settled for blaring music from her Walkman through her yellow headphones. The Runaways were so loud that she couldn't hear herself think, which was exactly what she wanted as she danced around the new living room that was almost void of furniture, as the Winger siblings chose to pack light and fill the house with things once they got to California.

Because of Cherry Bomb destroying her hearing ability, Indiana missed how her name was being repeatedly called. She was too focused on splitting her time between dancing and painting a coat of light blue paint over the previously gray walls. After finishing up the third wall, she held the blue-covered end of the paint roller to her mouth like a microphone.

"Hello, world, I'm your wild girl. I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!" she wailed before spinning the paint roller and positioning the stick like it was a guitar, strumming the invisible strings to the riff in the song. "Hey, Street Boy — DUDE!"

All of the sudden, something hit Indiana directly in the face, bouncing off her forehead and hitting the drop cloth on the floor. She froze her impromptu concert to look down at the object — a wooden spoon from the kitchen. Then she looked up and saw her sister was the so-called attacker.

Virginia Winger — their parents thought it was cute to name their children after states — was only twenty-four and resembled her younger sister greatly. They had the same brown hair, hazel eyes, and sharp features. The woman was staring down her sister with her eyebrow raised and her hands on her hips, waiting for her sister to finally pay attention to her.

She also wasn't alone.

A few steps behind Virginia were two people — a short, slightly overweight woman and a boy that was around Indiana's age with his hair falling in his handsome face, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else.

Finally realizing why the spoon had been thrown at her, Indiana pulled her headphones off and let them rest around her neck, still feeling the vibrations every now and then on her skin as the song finished playing. She smiled sheepishly at her sister and the strangers while setting the paint roller down.

"Sorry to interrupt the solo, Jimi Hendrix," Virginia said teasingly. "This is Mrs. Nancy Loomis and her son, Billy. They live in the house right next to ours."

The girls had moved into a fairly nice neighborhood with houses neatly lined up in a row. It was quite different from growing up in an apartment complex with tenants who went about their days, not paying any attention to the others living in the building, but the sisters would eventually get used to having so much space and neighbors who actually acknowledged them.

"We just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. My husband is at work at the moment, but hopefully, you'll see him soon enough," Nancy told her with a smile.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Loomis," she replied politely. "I'm Indiana Winger."

"Indiana?" the boy, Billy, questioned. Sure, he'd heard Virginia calling her that, so it wasn't a surprise, but the corner of his lip still turned up teasingly. "Like the—"

"Born before the movie came out," Indiana interrupted, used to sixteen years of Indiana Jones comments — they weren't that annoying given that she loved those movies.

"So, Indiana, what grade will you be going into? You look like my Billy's age," Nancy said, wanting to get to know the girl a little better. Billy cringed a little, embarrassed by his mother calling him that in front of a pretty girl.

"I'll be going into eleventh grade," she told her.

"Oh, so is he!" she said, delighted by it all. "He can show you around on your first day."

"That's a great idea," Virginia agreed with an amused smirk. She may not have been Indiana's mother but she sure could try and embarrass her like one.

Indy glanced at Billy, who clearly hated how his mother thought he needed help making friends. Truthfully, though, Nancy just never liked Billy's best friend, Stu Macher. She was hoping he'd one day distance himself from the obnoxious and childish boy.

When Nancy wasn't watching, Indiana took a second to silently mouth 'You don't have to show me around' to him. Billy simply shrugged — he'd decide on that first day of classes if he wanted to bother with her or not.

"So, are your parents out at work already?" Nancy questioned, looking around the living room. There was only a small, green couch and one of those pink, plastic, blowup chairs meant for children, both pointing at a boxy TV that was sitting on the floor. "Or out furniture shopping?"

"Nah, it's just me and Indy," Virginia told her. She glanced quickly at her youngest sister, who was looking back at the paint roller. "Our folks passed away not long ago."

Nancy couldn't help but let out a gasp and put her hand to her heart. With how much she smothered her own child, she couldn't imagine how two young girls could survive without a mother. "Oh, how horrible that must have been for you two. What on earth happened?" Billy nearly elbowed his mother for asking such an insensitive question. Sure, he also wanted to know, but you couldn't outright ask two strangers how their parents died within the last few months.

"We don't really like to talk about it," Indiana mumbled, grabbing the paint roller again to get back to work. Then, as an attempt to change the subject, she added, "But we are gonna go furniture shopping on Saturday."

"Well, you poor things," Mrs. Loomis said. Indiana hated the look of pity on her face. "If there's anything you two need while settling in, let me know. And Billy can come move in any big furniture you get on Saturday."

Billy looked at his mother in exasperation, unable to believe she was offering up his Saturday. "I have plans Saturday." He spent almost every weekday in summer football practice sessions, so the weekend was his only free time. He didn't want to spend it moving around couches and mattresses.

"Don't sweat it, Billy," Virginia said with a small smile, understanding the look on his face. "We won't keep you hostage. That's what delivery fees are for. Thank you for offering him up, though, Mrs. Loomis."

"Well, let me know if you change your mind, and I'll have him over here bright and early in the morning," she said, not caring about what Billy wanted. If it came down to it, he wouldn't argue with her, having been raised to do anything his mother asked of him. "So, are you looking for work, Virginia? I might know of a few openings."

"No, ma'am. I've got a part-time job lined up at the hospital as an ER nurse," she explained.

"Ooh, a nurse! How exciting!" Nancy gushed, stepping closer to her. "You must help so many people."

"It's nothing. Just the job," she said humbly. "It has me working odd hours, though. And lots of nightshifts."

"Well, I can bring dinner over for Indiana any time if you just let me know ahead of time," she told the girls. "I've got a lasagna recipe that's to die for."

"Ooh, I should show you our mother's recipe box," Virginia offered. "I never have time to cook, and Indy is a hurricane in the kitchen, so at least I know someone could get use out of them."

"I can always expand my recipe book," Nancy told her, following the older woman into the kitchen.

"I give it a week before she has you guys over for dinner on a night she isn't working," Indiana said, glancing at Billy. Then she went back to painting the wall, not wanting to let what was in the paint tray dry out while talking.

"If she can find a time. My parents stay pretty busy too — not many family dinners next door," he said, nodding to his house that they could see through the large windows. Then he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, feeling a little out of place in the living room with the girl he didn't know.

It was one of the few mornings he didn't have summer conditioning for football, so he was less than thrilled when his mother dragged him out of bed to go meet the new neighbors.

Indiana didn't really respond to what he said other than nodding in understanding. The silence gave Billy a moment to study her as she continued to cover the last wall in blue. Her hair was pulled back in a messy braid, and her oversized purple crop top had a few paint stains on it, as did the gray sweatpants on her legs. He thought she looked tired — probably from moving several states over.

"So, Billy Loomis," Indiana finally said while glancing back at him over her shoulder. "What does one do for fun in a town like this?"

Billy couldn't help but snort. "Not much," he admitted, shaking his head. "Have to drive to a different town for basically anything other than the movie theater."

Indiana threw her head back and groaned dramatically. "Not having a car yet is really gonna bite."

"Can't convince big sis to spring for one?"

"Big sis is overprotective and doesn't want me to have the freedom that comes with a car," she grumbled. Though she couldn't be too mad — Virginia's concern was justified to an extent.

"What? She doesn't trust you?" Billy asked with a small smirk. He couldn't really figure out the look on Indiana's face as he asked that.

"Something like that," she said vaguely with a shrug. "But I'll get a job somewhere and save up for one. We went to this diner last night and they had a help wanted sign, so maybe there. Or one of the other places we drove past when getting here — Blockbuster, grocery store. We'll see."

"Good luck with that, I guess," Billy told her. He didn't know what else to say — with a lawyer as a father, he never really had to think about money or consider getting a job in high school. They even lived in the biggest house in the neighborhood — the Winger house was two stories but still very compact compared to the one right next to it. His friends didn't have jobs either aside from Randy, who Billy hardly gave any thought to. Hell, Stu's parents were even better off than Billy's.

Conversation may not have flowed easily for Billy, but it always did for Indiana, who could talk to anyone about anything.

"So, what's the school gonna be like?" she asked.

Billy shrugged, not sure how to describe it. "It's pretty small, I guess. And we've all known each other since kindergarten. We don't get many new people in Woodsboro, so you'll stick out."

"I suppose I'll survive," she said with a smile. The girl did love attention. "And really, you don't gotta show me around like your mom said. I figure the school will assign someone to give me a tour or something."

As Indiana talked, she kept painting. And Billy almost didn't notice how she winced, taking in a breath of air sharply at the end of her sentence. She'd raised her arm all the way up, standing on her toes to reach the ceiling. As she did, her shirt rode up, and Billy caught a glimpse of thick gauze taped to her upper abdomen. She'd pulled at some kind of injury.

"What happened there?" he couldn't help but nosily asked. As soon as he did ask, he shook his head. "Sorry, that's not my business."

"No, it's fine. It's kind of embarrassing," Indiana said with an amused smile. "I was messing around with some of my old teammates who were helping pack the moving van. One dared me to ride my skateboard up the ramp leading into the truck. Rammed right into and destroyed the cardboard box with all of Virginia's cooking knives."

"Jesus," Billy said, wincing as he pictured what happened.

Of course, he couldn't accurately picture it because Indiana was lying out of her ass, but he didn't know the girl well enough to know that.

"Fifteen stitches," Indiana said, pulling the hem of her shirt up to show off the bandage. "Hurt like a bitch, but it got me out of doing the heavy lifting for this move."

"Oh," he said with a frown. "I guess if you do need help with moving—"

Indiana couldn't help but laugh, knowing it was the last thing Billy wanted to do. "No, it's fine. I promise. Enjoy your summer of freedom."

"I'm sure you'll enjoy yours too in between settling in and getting a job," he told her. "You said 'teammates'. What sport do you play?"

"Basketball."

"Nice. My best friend plays too."

"Not you?" she asked, glancing at him. Indiana was fairly tall at 5'10", but Billy still had several inches on her. She could easily see him playing basketball.

"Football is my sport — quarterback," he clarified.

"Oh, my god," she couldn't help but chuckle. "The small-town quarterback is also the boy next door. It's like a movie. How incredibly cliché of you."

The corners of Billy's lips turned up. "My apologies, I suppose."

"I'll forgive you so long as you make sure to do things to keep me on my toes. I'll get bored of you and this town if you're too predictable, Loomis."

He tilted his head. "And how do I know you won't be boring?" he teased.

"Trust me, Loomis," Indiana said with a sparkle in her eyes that Billy couldn't look away from, "everyone in this town is gonna know my name by the time I'm done with it."

☆︎

Two days later, Indiana was perched on a teal-colored stool inside of a diner with a bright neon sign that read 'Cricket's' — she was hoping that was referring to a person with the nickname Cricket and not some reference to crickets being served in the food. Then again, she'd already eaten there twice, so there was no going back if so.

It didn't take long at all for a waitress to approach Indiana at the counter, her curly hair pulled back and out of her face. She wore a purple and teal uniform that all the other employees wore — there was an embarrassing hat too, but this girl opted to not put it on.

"What can I get for you?" the waitress asked, glancing up from her order pad.

"Um, a strawberry milkshake, order of fries, and a job application," Indiana said, smiling confidently at the girl. Her name was Sophia according to her name tag. "Unless you, personally, think this is the worst job in the world."

"It's alright," she said with a shrug. "Cricket is really good about working around my school schedule. I'll be right back."

As Sophia walked away, Indiana remained seated, tapping the heel of her blue and white checkered Vans to the beat of the Elvis song playing over the speakers. She really hoped the diner would hire her. It was only a five-minute trip on her skateboard from her house — even shorter than getting to school would be. So, not having a car wouldn't affect her ability to get to work.

It wasn't long before an application was slid over to her along with an ink pen that was sticky for some reason. Sophia didn't say much as Indiana began filling it out, scribbling down all her information and schedule availability. The waitress opted to refill all the salt and pepper shakers on the counter while waiting — it was only three in the afternoon, so the diner hardly had any customers.

When the new girl was about halfway through, the bell over the door rang as a figure darted in, running right up to the counter. "Chili cheese dog me, Cretin!"

Indiana bit the inside of her cheek and looked at the boy that'd called Sophia a cretin. His skin was darker than the girl's, but they had the same eyes, nose, and face shape, leading her to believe they were related. After all, her own sister called her a gremlin half the time, — she repaid the favor by calling her a goblin — so a brother calling his sister a cretin wasn't so far-fetched.

Sophia rolled her eyes at the boy. "Fuck off," she muttered. But at the same time, she still walked back to the window looking into the kitchen, clipping up an order for the hot dog.

"Sister?" Indiana guessed, looking at the boy.

He grinned at her, showing off a row of perfectly white teeth. "Little sister," he confirmed. Then he tilted his head and studied her features. "You new in town?"

"Just got here on Monday," she told him with a nod. "Tried to apply at that record shop, but the owner is—"

"An asshole?" the boy finished for her, raising an eyebrow.

"Such an asshole," she agreed. The owner had taken one look at her and made a few bullshit assumptions about her, figuring a girl wouldn't know nearly enough about the different genres of music to be of any help outside of the pop music section. So, Cricket's was the next best option — actually, the only option. "And he doesn't know shit about music. Said Out Ta Get Me is the best Guns 'N Roses guitar solo, which, like, as a guitar player, I'll admit it's great but nothing compared to—"

The two of them made eye contact and spoke in sync, their eyes lighting up more as their syllables matched up. "Sweet Child 'O Mine!"

He grinned and slid onto the stool right next to her. "Exactly! And the bass in Sweet Child is better too. I love playing it."

"You play bass?"

He nodded. "Yeah, for about three years now. Grew up playing double bass but got tired of the classical music shit and taught myself how to play bass guitar."

"Taught yourself? Impressive. I learned from my dad. I can play bass too but don't prefer it," she told him. "Even though bass makes up some of the best parts of songs. Like, hello? For Whom the Bells Toll? Hysteria? Anything by Queen or Michael Jackson?"

"We were meant to be best friends," the boy declared seriously, leaning closer. "I've got to hear you play some time."

"And you," she said, grinning. "I can feel it in my gut that you're the best bass player in the world."

He let out a cocky scoff. "Obviously," he said. "And you clearly know how to shred on electric."

"We should start a band," Indiana said after only half a second of thinking.

And he put even less thought into it, his eyes lighting up. He kind of reminded Indy of an excited puppy. "We should totally start a band!"

"So, it's official. We're in a band now," she declared, nodding to him. Then she tilted her head. "What's your name, by the way? Should probably know that since we're in a band together."

"Jackson Martin," he introduced, sticking out his hand for her to shake. Then he nodded toward Sophia who was grabbing two plates from the window. "Gonna be a Junior. That's Sophia. She's a year younger."

"Cool. I'm Indiana Winger," she said. "Just moved in on Marsh Street."

"Fries, milkshake, and a chili dog," Sophia recited while setting all the dishes down in front of them. "Jax, leave a good tip, or I'm telling Mama."

Jackson just stuck his tongue out while sliding his hotdog closer. He took a bite before continuing to talk, not caring about the food in his mouth. "Indiana and I are starting a band. We need a drummer. You in?"

"You play drums?" Indiana asked, smiling up at the standing girl.

"Yeah, mostly just percussion in the marching band, though," Sophia said with a nod. Then she cut her eyes to her brother. "Like, seriously, though? Or is this like when you said you were going to train to be on Legends of the Hidden Temple?"

"I'm being so serious right now, brat," he told her. Then Jackson looked back at Indiana, who was dipping a crinkle-cut fry in her milkshake. "She's really good, I promise. I wouldn't risk the embarrassment of being in a band with my sister if she wasn't."

"Alright, but we're gonna need a fourth and maybe fifth member," Indiana said, knowing three instruments wouldn't really be enough.

"I might have an idea," Sophia said, leaning on the counter. Slowly, the corners of her lips were turning up in a smile as she thought more on the band idea. "But we also need somewhere to practice, because Lord knows mama ain't gonna put up with us making so much noise."

"I have a garage and a sister that works late," she told them with a grin. Indiana held up her milkshake glass like it was champagne. "To the band!"

"To the band!" Jackson repeated while raising his hotdog like a glass as well, clinking it on the side of Indiana's cup, ignoring how the two girls cringed.

"Dude, you got chili in my milkshake!"

☆︎

Nearly a full week passed before Billy Loomis saw Indiana Winger again — after all, she had a job and he had a life. But for the first time since summer started, the boy was getting ready for bed early, not staying out so late that practically everyone else was asleep.

Billy was moving around his room, a pair of boxers low on his hips while wiping his wet hair with a towel, having just gotten out of the shower. He grabbed a shirt that looked clean, only to smell the armpits and learn it was definitely putting off some rank fumes. He cringed before throwing it to the side and grabbing a different one that smelled a little better. But only marginally. After pulling it over his head, he finally glanced out his window and noticed something for the first time.

Indiana's room was right next to his, with only twenty feet of grass separating the two second-floor rooms.

Billy knew it was Indiana's room because the lights were on and she was moving around with a handful of others inside. He recognized them somewhat but was only familiar with Jackson Martin, who was on the basketball team with Stu. But Jackson's sister was there too, as well as some boy in the marching band.

His name was Isaiah Starnes, and Billy only knew because the entire fucking town knew how insanely strict and religious his mother, Annabelle Starnes, was. At school, Isaiah usually kept to two people and shrank into himself whenever someone was addressing him. But now, he seemed to be laughing at whatever the foursome were doing in the room.

"Guess she made friends," Billy mumbled to himself offhandedly. Before going to bed, he glanced back at the window a few more times, wondering if the new girl was aware of how useless those sheer pink curtains were.

Inside the room, unaware of how the neighbor was watching them, Indiana was sprawled on her bed with Sophia practically on top of her. Jackson was sitting on her desk. And the newest addition, Isaiah, was sitting on the pink, plastic blow-up chair that was moved to her room after Virginia purchased actual furniture.

A day and a half after deciding to form a band, while Indy was being trained at Cricket's, Sophia dragged Isaiah in by his wrist and introduced him as their new keyboard player. The boy, who was in the same grade as Sophia, seemed timid and hesitant, but it didn't take Indiana long at all to get him to warm up to her.

When she wasn't working, Indiana took the time to get to know her three friends as much as she could.

Jackson was fairly high on the social food chain, she learned. Sure, being classically trained on the double bass made him seem a little geeky, but he was handsome, funny, and the captain of the basketball team. He certainly had the highest energy of everyone, which Indiana could happily match.

Sophia was similar to her brother personality-wise, if not a little more sarcastic and snarky. She was always ready to go on a five-hour rant about movies — her favorites were romcoms, but she made Indiana promise to take that to her grave so that everyone else would think horror was her favorite genre.

Isaiah was quiet at first, but Indiana quickly learned that was a defense mechanism to help deal with his controlling and overbearing mother. He had a love for disco, soft rock, and 80s synth-pop music. Jackson tried to tease him about that, but Indiana shut it down and started blasting ABBA, agreeing with him that it was one of the best bands in the world.

Now, the newly-formed-and-yet-to-be-named band was hanging out in Indiana's half-decorated bedroom. The walls were a dark green color, and slowly, she was covering the walls with posters and unpacking the boxes shoved in the corners.

"Really, I can meet whenever for rehearsal," Jackson told them with a shrug. Unlike the girls, he didn't have a job. And Isaiah's mother kept him on a tight leash, so they were trying to figure out the best times to rehearse in the garage right under Indiana's room.

"Crick has me and Indy on the same schedule most days for the rest of the summer," Sophia informed him. "Can't meet on Sunday mornings or Wednesday nights because of Zay's bible study."

Isaiah smiled appreciatively, glad she remembered that even if he wasn't thrilled about going each week. "But I'm pretty free during the weekdays since Mom is at work. Weekends are a toss-up, though," he said, speaking with a slight southern accent. Isaiah had lived in Woodsboro his whole life, but both his parents were from Texas, so the accent stuck with him.

"So, how about Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays at twelve and be done before they have to get to work for the dinner shift? And Mondays and Thursdays at 3? We'll make sure Isaiah is home before his mama is," Jackson said, thinking that worked for all of them. "And weekends just when they work."

"I think we have a rehearsal schedule," Indiana said while scrawling those times down. She had a few glitter gel pens on the mattress, giving her plenty of color options. "Now, back to songs we can play."

On the walk to the Winger house, the four of them began listing covers of songs that they knew how to play. Sophia only knew the really popular ones, as the marching band liked to play them. But the girl was a fast learner. Isaiah knew a few of his favorite songs but couldn't practice them a lot, not wanting his mother to hear and yell at him. Indiana and Jackson had the largest repertoires, and both were excited to teach the other two all the songs.

After having a few solid covers and fans, then they could work on making their own music — that was a way down-the-road kind of goal, though. For now, they wanted to have fun and cure their boredom while getting to know each other better.

"Okay," Indiana said, looking at the list of songs over Sophia's shoulder. "I'm thinking we start off with Take On Me. You love that song, Isaiah, so we'll help you learn it."

"This is gonna be so cool," Isaiah said with a smile. Then it turned nervous. "But also terrifying. What if someone hears us?"

Jackson threw his head back and laughed. "That's the point, Isaiah. Don't worry. It'll be no scarier than when you play for the band."

"That is scary," he claimed, giving him a pointed look.

"If it makes you feel better, no one will be around tomorrow," Indiana told him. "My sister will be at work."

"What about your neighbors and stuff? I'd rather them not hear me until I know I'm not going to make mistakes."

Before Indiana could even point out that most of their neighbors were away at work during the day, and Billy, the only other teenager she knew, was away at football practice most days, Sophia was chiming in. "Zay, you're, like, annoyingly good at sight reading music. You're not gonna embarrass yourself — at least not any more than the rest of us."

"Yeah, if you mess up and there's a witness, I'll screw up on purpose and ten times worse to take the attention off you," Indiana promised. "But you're a part of Indiana and the Three Cretins. You are automatically the coolest person in Woodsboro."

"That's the lamest fucking band name I've ever heard!" Jackson exclaimed while throwing a pen at her. "Three Cretins? The only cretin in here is Soph!"

In response, Sophia threw Indiana's blue glitter pen at him, hitting him right on the nose. He pouted while rubbing the spot.

"Well, what do you wanna call us?" Indiana asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned brightly and sat a little straighter. "The Jackson Four."

"God, that's worse," Sophia said, rubbing her forehead.

"And asking for a lawsuit," Isaiah mumbled with a smirk. "Isaiah and the Killers?"

"The Killers? Are we killing people instead of writing songs?" Indiana asked, giggling at the weird name. Isaiah shrugged sheepishly, just wanting to throw one out with his name in the title.

Then Sophia sat forward excitedly, nearly toppling over the side. "Wait," she said, grinning brightly. "What about this? The Woodsboro Killers?"

"Oh, no, I was just joking. If my mother finds out I'm in a band with the word 'killers' in it, she'll kill me," Isaiah said, shaking his head.

"Kind of sounds like she'll kill you for being in the band regardless," Indiana admitted before glancing at Sophia. "I kinda like it, though."

"It does sound very rock 'n roll," Jackson told Sophia. "What about Jackson and the Woodsboro Kille — Hey!" Sophia shut him up by throwing one of Indiana's pillows at him that time, nearly knocking him off the desk.

"Look, all those in favor?" Indiana asked, sitting on her knees while raising her hand. Sophia quickly put hers up, as did Jackson after a moment. With a sigh and reluctant smile, knowing he truly was pushing fate and his mother's control, Isaiah raised his hand too.

"The Woodsboro Killers — coming to a city near you!" Jackson exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "This is gonna be the best fucking year ever."

Indiana couldn't stop grinning as she fell back on her mattress and smiled at her new friends. "Woodsboro won't know what hit 'em."