Lambs to the Slaughter

SOMETIMES BEC WARDWELL TRIED TO BE POSITIVE. She looked past the crippling hopelessness of her life and twisted thing into the something sickly sweet.

For example — Uncle Ruben was coming home today. Bec knew it was because their father couldn't afford to keep him in a hospital anymore. It has been seventeen years, seven of which he'd paid for it completely on his own. So now they had to take care of him at home. Another mouth to feed, and one that couldn't even support himself which, as cruel as it sounded, was very important when they were already struggling.

But hey, look on the bright side, Bec got to meet her uncle. What more could she want?

The day was a dreary as Bec felt. She leaned against the car window, watching the side of the road. If she let her gaze race along with its movement, the car ride almost seemed faster. Or at least she could ignore the fact the car sounded like it would blow up any second.

Bec knew if wasn't fair for her to sulk. After all, she was the one who insisted on coming to pick Ruben up. Dad had told her she didn't have to. But the rest of her sisters were either working or with friends and, despite Dad insisting otherwise, Bec suspected he needed someone to come with him. For support.

Yet still, Bec ended up left in the car. Something, something, they only allowed one person at a time. Something, something, it's just a bunch of paper work, you won't be interested.

Where both probably true? Sure. It didn't keep Bec from hating it. Then again, she hated most things, so that wasn't special.

Even in the fall, the car was suffocatingly stuffy. The down side — the only side, if you asked Bec — of the air conditioning being broken. Bec started to roll down the window. Then it shrieked and Bec reconsidered not just that life choice, but all of them. She stopped with just a slight crack. It was a choice between heat death and destroying her ear drums, and this was the best compromise.

And if Bec didn't look at it, she could pretend the window was open. At least that lasted until someone knocked on the window. Fully prepared to get murdered, Bec whipped around to the window.

It was just Sheriff Goode. He was motioning for her to roll down the window, but there was no way in fresh hell Bec was doing that. At least not all the way. Just enough that she could peek over the rim of the window.

"Is it illegal to sit in a car now?" Bec asked.

"Well, no —" Goode started.

"Do you have a warrant?"

"No —"

"Cool."

Bec started to roll the window up. So, of course, Sheriff Goode proceeded to stick his hand between the window and its frame. Bec nearly screamed as she stopped. That was definitely a good way to get his fingers mashed. What was the prison time for the sheriff cutting his own fingers off on your car? Did that count as assault? Attempted vehicular homicide?

"Relax," Goode said. Was he stupid? Nothing he did was relaxing. "I heard you were picking up your uncle."

"Yep," Bec said.

"I just wanted to check on him. I knew him, you know."

Unlikely. Dad made it clear Ruben hated Sunnyvale as much as any Shadysider. The only time he ever talked to them was Nightwing, when society forced the two towns together. No need for Goode to go around acting like they'd been friends. Unfortunately, Bec couldn't say that. She had to be nice to him.

Everyone did, because he was sheriff and the mayor's brother, one of the ever rich and famous Goodes. Basically ruled Sunnyvale, and Shadyside in turn. He could totally ruin your life.

Oh — and the fact Liz was best friends with his son. God forbid they lose Jude Goode.

"Great. Fantastic. Can you get your hand out of my car now?" Bec asked.

"Listen, I'm just trying to be supportive," Goode insisted. At least he removed his hand.

"Thanks. I'm sure Uncle Ruben would appreciate it."

Or he would, if he could tell anyone was there in the first place. That was the bright side. Most likely he'd be as unimpressed with Goode's act as Bec was. She bit her tongue. But whatever. Bec didn't care that stupid ass Nick Goode was using her uncle as a way to make himself look better. Again.

The hospital door opened and, thank God, Dad came out. A figure was huddled next to him. Ruben, Bec supposed. Of course that was based completely on their similar appearance. He had crumpled in on himself so much that Bec suspected she wouldn't recognize him, even if she'd seen him before. Dad handled him like he'd break with the slightest touch.

Bec started to roll the window up. It...didn't. It stuck. But look on the bright side — free air conditioning.

Wheeee. Bec resisted the urge to wack her head against the consul.

"Nick, good to see you," Dad said. He actually sounded happy to see him. Somehow. "What are you doing here?"

"We were just talking. Weren't we?" Goode shot Bec a look.

Bec snorted. That was one way to put it. Goode was talking, anyways. Knowing Goode would make it awkward if she didn't, though, Bec nodded. Whatever. She didn't care if Sheriff Goode wanted to pretend they were friends. As long as she got to ignore him the rest of the time. 

"You look well, Ruben," Goode quickly added.

No, he didn't. Just standing next to Sheriff Goode had made Ruben shrink even further than he already had. Pale and haggard, he looked like he'd neither slept or eaten in days. He didn't look "well." He looked sick. But that was the Goodes for you. Their shallow care didn't look any deeper than what would make them appear good.

No response. Ruben simply stared at the ground.

"Ruben," Dad coaxed. "Nick's trying to talk to you. It would be polite to look at him."

Ruben lifted his head just far enough to look at Goode's shoes. Technically he was looking at him. Bec shifted awkwardly in the car. Clearly she wasn't the only one who didn't want to be here.

Dad almost looked disappointed. Still, he let him get into the car without another attempt to get him to speak with Goode. The two continued to talk. Bec ignored them. Instead, she turned to look at her uncle. He was leaned back in his seat, gaze set vaguely past her head. Bec waved her hand. Ruben didn't seem to see her at all. It was only when she reached back and nudged his shoulder that he shook out of his daze.

"You should buckle your seat belt," Bec said. Ruben blinked. She motioned across her chest, mimicking pulling her seat belt. "Buckle your seat belt. I mean, it'll probably break, it's terribly anchored, but Dad's really big on that stuff."

Ruben carefully reached for the belt by his shoulder. He must have taken "it's terribly anchored" to heart, as he buckled with all the gentleness of handling an baby animal. Then he turned back to Bec expectantly.

Bec worked on the window until Dad got into the car. They were halfway home when the window finally unstuck. It snapped up hard. Bec slouched in her seat. Would have been great if it did that earlier.

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THERE WAS SOMETHING SATISFYING ABOUT SHADYSIDE'S WOODS. Most people avoided it. Marney suspected they were afraid of the "evil witch" that haunted the woods. That they believed simply walking out of town on their own would get them murdered. It was childish, but useful for Marney's purposes. She'd been able to set up an entire fort without anyone noticing. Now she was left alone.

Marney didn't like abandoning her family all of the time. The benefit of being part of a quadruplet set — she was unfortunately attached to her sisters. But with the addition of their uncle the day before, the small house was feeling even smaller. Their bedroom was shared again. Nothing was sacred anymore. Tensions were rising. Everyone was looking for some personal space. Marney was just the one lucky enough to already have a space to go.

Blankets and pillows filled the small fort, making it slightly more comfortable than the wooden walls would suggest. Marney had surrounded herself with books. As many as she could get from the library.

Getting the books had earned Marney some dirty looks. All of them where on witchcraft in some form, which was a taboo in a town like Shadyside. Unfortunately, (for the librarian, not Marney) they couldn't stop her from checking them out. The legends of Shadyside and other "cursed" towns was free for her taking.

And there were many legends. Hundreds of towns, all over America, that had been "cursed." If you were smart enough you could find lists. Lists of legends, one for each state. Hell's Gate Bridge, Alabama. Slaughterhouse Canyon, Arizona. Hannah Crane, the "Wicked Witch of Monroe," Connecticut. Spook Hill, Florida. The Pope Lick Goat Man, Kentucky.

Their world was full of curses and legends. Sarah Fier could be one of them.

Yet it seemed too...perfect. Shadyside was a hellscape and Sunnyvale was thriving? It was Sarah Fier, of course!

Yet...Shadyside and Sunnyvale were Union in 1666. One town that split due to size. Sarah Fier cursed Union. Union land that now make up both town. At least, that was the story. There was no logical reason only one side should be effect, while the other had the opposite result.

A tapping brought Marney's attention out of her book. Footsteps. Someone was pacing around her fort, tapping on the walls as they went.

Marney leaned forward with an exasperated sigh. Best to just get it over with. She crawled out of the fort, just time for someone to jump around the corner. Despite expecting it, Marney still yelped and scrambled backwards. She gasped for air. She waited a moment before risking an exit again.

Jude Goode was doubled over, howling with laughter. Marney didn't even know why she was surprised. If there was ever an issue in her life, Jude Goode likely caused it.

In fact, Marney was so busy being mad at Jude that she missed someone sneaking up on her. Hands grabbed her shoulders. She was ashamed to admit she screamed. Marney whipped around to find Liz. By now this was getting frustrating. There was one benefit — now Marney knew where both of them were. No more scares.

"God, your sister screams like a little girl," Jude wheezed.

"What are you doing here?" Marney demanded. They weren't supposed to know where her fort was.

"Chill, Marns. You don't own the woods," Liz said.

Marney glared. Liz knew that wasn't what she was saying. Before she could defend herself, though, she noticed something different about Liz.

"Did you bleach your hair?" Marney asked.

Liz ran her fingers through the ponytail hanging over her shoulders. She had. How she didn't think they would notice was beyond Marney. To start, all four the sisters looked exactly the same. They only had to look at themself to see how the other was supposed to appear. That wasn't even considering the massive difference between the quadruplets' natural black hair and the near-white blonde Liz now sported.

"Yeah. Who gives a shit? It's my hair," Liz scoffed.

"I just — you —"

Marney fumbled for some explanation. How was she supposed to explain why Liz's hair change upset her so much? The fact she'd never wanted to do it before, and it was just another wild change she'd made since meeting Jude? It just...wasn't like Liz. The Liz Marney had grown up with, anyways. Or because, as selfish as it sounded, Marney liked that her and her sisters looked similar? Not because she was overly attached to the idea of "twinning." Just that...well, it meant she wasn't alone.

Before Marney could say something, Jude ducked into her fort. Which was a more pressing threat at the moment.

"Jude, get out!" Marney tried to grab him. It didn't work.

"What's wrong, Marn Barn? Got some embarrassing shit in here?" Jude said. He dodged all of Marney's attempts to shove him out, snatching one of her books as he left. "Oh, look at this. Marney's doing some research."

Jude tossed the book to Liz. Marney tried to intercept, only to get shoulder checked as Liz snatched it out of her grasp. She turned so she could flip through the book without interruption.

"Seriously? The witch? Are you trying to look a psycho?" Liz raised an eyebrow.

"It's serious shit," Marney finally got the book from Liz. "Can you please keep your creeper boyfriend in check?"

"We're dating?" Jude tipped his head in mock confusion. "Aw, Lizzie, why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, fuck both of you!" Liz snapped.

Jude stuck out his tongue, earning an eye roll from Liz. Marney gave an exasperated sigh. It was tempting just duck back into her fort. Yet the likelihood that Jude and Liz would leave her alone now was close to none. Instead Marney collected her things and left before they could notice. So much for peace and quiet.

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THE NIGHT LIZ DIED STARTED OFF NORMAL. Good, even. She had been the only one who needed to work after school. Dad got off work early — which is to say he didn't have to work late. Of course it couldn't be completely perfect. They still had homework to do and no drive to spent time together. By the time they got time to sit down they were just...exhausted with people.

At least that was the case with Cassie and Bec. Marney supposed she could have asked Dad, but he'd gone to bed as soon as he got home. She didn't blame him. Tonight would probably be the most sleep he'd gotten in weeks.

Only Ruben seemed interested with Marney. Sort of. He agreed when she asked if he wanted to play chess and moved around pieces as they did. It was easy to tell there was no strategy to it. If Marney didn't know better, she might have assumed he was playing to lose. An easy win. Not that she was trying to win, since longer games meant more time together.

Marney stared out the window. The sun had begun setting almost an hour ago. She could see the lights go out in the house opposite of them. It was late. The mall should be closing, and Liz should be returning soon.

Yet that still didn't explain the car approaching their house. Marney frowned.

When they pulled into the driveway, Marney recognized it as a police vehicle. Which was why she opened the door as soon as they knocked. Liz was her first though, though not for the right reasons. It wouldn't be the first time she he'd gotten in trouble with Jude, even to the point of the law getting involved. Jude, being the sheriff's son, got off on most things. Liz did not.

Logic said to get Dad. He would know what to do. But Marney didn't want to wake him up just to hear Liz was being dropped off by the cops. Again.

Marney wondered what Liz did this time. She really hoped they didn't burn something again.

The good news was, Liz didn't burn something. The bad news was...everything else.

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"MORE DEATH IN SHADYSIDE, WHILE SUNNYVALE ENTERS IT'S THIRTIETH YEAR WITH NO VIOLENT CRIME."

The only news there was that there had been violent crime in Sunnyvale thirty years ago. Bec scoffed. What happened, did someone shout at a cashier while stealing a lollipop?

Why the hell was she even watching this? Bec leaned on the edge of the couch. The police had gone over everything last night. Another Shittyside massacre. Another Wardwell dead. The most unusual thing about it was that Jude Goode was on of the many victims.

Maybe that was why Bec watched. Some sick interest in what they would do with the story. A Sunnyvale death in a Shadyside tragedy, and a Goode at that. Sure, Jude wasn't exactly Sunnyvale's golden boy, instead making it his mission to ruin the lives of everyone around him. Not even his family liked him — Bec was pretty sure they'd sent him off to some Catholic reform school the month before. Of course he'd returned to continue destroying the Goode name.

And then die.

Bec could only guess how that story would be twisted. Suddenly, Jude would be the perfect little angel, corrupted by the influence of some Shadysider. Ignoring the fact Liz was practically the Virgin Mary before the two became friends, while Jude showed exactly no difference in behavior. Or maybe they'd ignore it. Or make a big deal, ignoring all the Shadyside sheep to focus on this one, life changing event.

"Shadyside, small-town America," the news reporter said. In the background Bec could make out the entrance to the mall. Someone had spray painted red letters across the class door. It wasn't in focus, but Bec could make a guess at what it said. "But among locals, a history of horror has earned it another nickname, Killer Capital USA. And last night, tragedy struck again."

There was a shuffling. Bec turned to find Cassie watching from the hallway, still in her pajamas. Her face was red from tears. Unlike Bec, she and Marney had taken up Dad's offer to let them stay home. Bec figured it was for the best. Personally, Bec had to go to school because everyone in the band was required at that night's football game, and they could only do that if they'd appeared at school. Cassie and Marney? They could stay home.

"How can you watch that?" Cassie insisted.

"Uh, with my eyes?" Bec said. Cassie glared. "Didn't you hear the cop last night, Cassie? We all grieve in different ways. I mean, look at this guy."

Bec motioned to Nick Goode on the television. He was giving a break down on the numbers of victims with the same calm, detached tone he used every time he stuck his nose into Shadyside's business. Cassie paused, before moving forwards to studied the sheriff's face.

"Finds his son gutted and all he can talk about is how fantastic Sunnyvale is," Bec scoffed.

"Poor Lizzie..." Cassie murmured. "You think she suffered?"

"She was stabbed sixteen times. They could barely recognize her," Bec said. The answer seemed obvious. Yet Cassie whimpered, and Bec felt guilty enough to add, "No. I'm sure she didn't."

Thankfully, the awkward moment was cut short by Dad turning off the TV. Normally Bec would have protested. Stuff was just getting interesting. Yet the look Dad gave her made his opinion very clear. They won't be watching the news for awhile.

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SCHOOL. A place Bec hated on a good day. Where teachers spent hours talking down on them while teaching them shit none of them would use. Even more useless for kids in Shadyside, where it was sort of assumed you'd just be a failure in the end anyways. And that was when there wasn't a murder for the kids to obsess over.

And oh how they obsessed. The truth was, Bec wasn't the only one numb to their tragedies. Everyone at school had grown up with this sort of thing. The sky was blue, grass was green, Shadyside was a slaughterhouse. So for them the mall massacre wasn't a tragedy. It was a joke. They chatted happily about all sorts of things, from humor about the murders to plans for that night's football game. The two things were equally important to them.

Though Bec came to school, she certainly wasn't planning to flaunt her existence to those around her. She ducked into the bathroom and planned to wait there until she had to get to class.

So, of course, someone had vandalized the stall doors. The same red spray paint as the mall, and probably the same phrase. The stupid little poem the town had written about Sarah Fier. Because that made her whole morning so much better. There wasn't much that could be done, though. Bec pushed open a stall, locked it behind her, and leaned against the wall to wait. She even made a point of ignoring the door when it opened.

"She reaches from beyond the grave to make good men her wicked slaves!" A voice growled.

Even in the fake tone, however, Bec could recognize Kate. Glancing down, she noticed two pairs of feet. Normally, her friend's arrival would be a good thing. Today it gave her a headache.

There was a sudden slam from the next stall over as someone burst through the door.

"She'll take your blood!" Simon screamed, ignoring Deena's scolding completely. "She'll take your head. She'll follow you until you're dead."

"Wow! You guys are dicks," Deena said. "You do know Bec's, like, right there."

Simon scoffed. "No she's not."

At which point Bec opened the stall door. Simon turned and chuckled awkwardly. Sometimes Bec wondered how exactly she'd befriended the group. It had started with Deena. She, her, and Sam had been pretty much friends since kindergarten. Then Deena and Sam started dating, and Kate and Simon joined. Which had been a relief at the time — Bec liked being the third wheel as much she liked most things — but sometimes it felt painfully obvious they weren't her friends. They were Deena's.

Right now? That just happened to be one of those moments. Of all the people in school, Bec had really thought they'd have some sympathy. Instead the most they did was keep their jokes to when they thought she wasn't there.

"It's just fun," Kate defended.

"It's sick," Deena said.

"What? The dude was wearing a Halloween skull mask! How is that not fun?" Simon insisted.

"People died. Heather died." Deena waved a hand towards Bec. "Bec's sister was literally murdered. The dude was probably just some sad sack who hated his life, like the rest of us, except he decided, 'hey, why don't I get out of here for good?' and 'hey, why don't I take a couple other mall rats with me?' There's no angry dead witch who made him go postal. The only thing that made him go crazy is this town!"

The group fell silent.

"Are you okay?" Kate said.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Deena glanced down at her dropped bag.

"Seems like...maybe you for a little witch in you," Simon teased.

Even Deena cracked a smile at that.

The rest of the conversation was blocked out completely. Bec grabbed her book bag from her stall. Clearly her staying was killing their mood. Wouldn't want to stop them from making jokes about mass murders, would she? Bec disappeared into the hallway, just barely missing a kid barreling down the hallway, blow up doll dragged behind him in a noose.

As if it couldn't get worse, Sunnyvale was hosting a candle light vigil for the victims. Wow. And they were forcing all cheer, band, and football members to attend. Did they want a cookie? A "good job pretending to give a shit" badge? Because, if that was the case, maybe they shouldn't have forced everyone to come. Made it less obvious that they wouldn't have come willingly that way.

Bec raised an eyebrow as Deena dropped in to the seat next to her.

"I thought you quit," Bec pointed out.

"Yeah, well, had to drop this off," Deena dropped a shoe box into her lap. Bec lifted the corner of the lid to see it full off Sam's stuff. "Sorry about Kate and Simon, by the way. They were being total assholes."

"It's not that big a deal. People grieve in weird ways, and apparently some made up witch is how they do it," Bec said. She hoped it wasn't obvious she was lying. "'Sides, it's better than pity. If I have to listen to one more teacher tell me how much they'll miss Liz, I'm going to chew my own arm off."

"Threaten to chew their arm off, instead."

Bec scoffed. That'd show them.

Deena pulled on her headphones as the bus started, a clear sign the conversation was over. Bec was fine with that. It wasn't like she wanted to talk. Instead she leaned her head against the window and watched the scenery as it flew past.

There was a clear divide between Sunnyvale and Shadyside. An invisible line, a run down gas station on one side and a two story mansion on the other. Bec couldn't help but what in awe. The place was the sort of thing she only saw in movies. Hell, half the houses had Greek columns. Who put that on a house? Where these people insane?

Night was falling as they arrived. A pair of Sunnyside cheerleaders where passing out candles as they filed onto the field. Bec took one reluctantly, earning a much too wide smile.

Through the crush of teenagers, Bec could see Mayor Goode up on the podium. He cleared his throat into the microphone and everyone pretended to be listening.

"This isn't how I wanted to be here tonight," Mayor Goode started. "I wanted to be here as a fan. Our Sunnyvale Devils and your Shadyside Witches throwing down some good old American football."

And, of course, the Sunnyvalers would win. They always won. Especially when they played against Shadyside. But Bec pretended that had nothing to do with why he was so enthusiastic over the two playing. It was just a friendly game! Huzzah!

"Instead I find myself here, as a husband, a father, as a neighbor. And, yes, mayor of Sunnyvale." Mayor Goode did not, Bec noted, say uncle. It wasn't that she expected them to be a bawling mess over Jude. Just that by now the lack of mention was starting to feel...purposeful. "And on behalf of all of the people in my town, I say all of Sunnyvale mourns with you."

For the amount of times he said all, you would have expected a bigger turn out. As Bec scanned the crowd, she only saw those who had to come. The football, cheer, and band members. Could they be more obvious? Bec at least would have paid a few people to show up, so at least their 'all of Sunnyvale mourns with you' would mean something.

Above them, the flood lights turned off. Sheriff Goode took the podium from his brother.

"My family has been in Sunnyvale for generations, and now my brother is mayor and I your sheriff. We've prospered here," Sheriff Goode said. "And yet, I've seen you, our neighbors in Shadyside, suffer tragedy after tragedy. It's easy in times like this to drown in questions of why...why this happened."

Actually, Bec's only 'why' was why was this vigil all about Sunnvale? Could they not stop talking about how great their town was for one night? Except she could answer that for herself. Because when wasn't it?

Shadyside could blow up and all anyone would care about was how badly the poor Sunnyvalers felt about it.

"But I know too well there are no answers that will provide relief. There's no peace found in the past. We must not fall into darkness. We must look to the light."

Blah, blah, blah.

Bec zoned out. Her attention wasn't on Nick Goode, it was on the growing conflict somewhere in the crowd. So far the two towns had split the crowd right down the middle. Now they were practically pouring over each other as a fight exploded to life. Bec groaned and ran a hand down her face. So much for solidarity.

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"PIECES OF SHIT!" Kate bellowed.

The entire bus screamed with her. She stood in the walk way, ice pack pressed to her face where a Sunnyvaler had elbowed her in the face. As if the fight hadn't already gotten everyone worked up, Kate was certainly doing the job. Only Deena sat out, laying across the back seat in an attempt to nap.

A part of Bec wanted to say she was just as pissed as the others. After all, the event had been for her sister. They'd used her sister's death to make themselves look all high and mighty. Except she wasn't. She'd expected this. It was Sunnvale, since when did they not make everything about themselves? The only surprise was that it took them half a vigil before they made a scene.

"They think they can do what ever they want!" Kate shouted. "They ruin our vigil, then go waltzing back to their mansions, like we're some reject pile that they can step on!"

"No!" The bus roared.

"Well, we are not the reject pile!"

"No!"

"This shit ends tonight!"

"Yeah!"

"What are we gonna do?" Simon pushed himself up in his seat to stand with Kate.

"We're gonna to kill those preppy assholes!" Kate answered.

Kate sat down to a bus full of teens cheering her name. They bounced in their seats and slammed their fist against the ceiling of the bus. Normally, this would have gotten them kicked off. As it was the bus driver didn't seem to notice at all. Maybe he was just as pissed with Sunnyvale as the rest of them.

They were just working up a chant when a faint noise caught Bec's attention. She turned and found herself squinting through a bright light. One that was thankfully blocked by Deena standing to investigate it.

"Goddamn Sunnyvalers," Deena snarled.

There was a shout and something shattered against the window. That got Bec out of her seat. She hurried over to see liquid pouring down the window. On the other side was a car full of Sunnyvalers in skull masks. One stood up through the sun roof, already preparing another alcohol bottle to throw.

"Guys! Come here!" Deena shouted.

Kate and Simon broke off from the crowd to look over their shoulders. The Sunnyvaler whooped and threw another bottle.

"Are they seriously doing this right now?" Bec knew they were demented, but this was a whole new low.

Simon squinted through the glass. "Hey, isn't that, uh..."

Oh shit. Bec narrowed her eyes to look through the burning light. Right there in the shotgun seat. Fucking Sam Fraiser.

"Guess we know how long it took her to go dark side," Bec grumbled.

Deena whipped around and pushed past them. She bent to pick up one of the coolers. As she did, Simon took the chance to pull down his pants. Bec slapped a hand over her eyes just long enough to avoid getting mooned, before he pressed his naked butt to the glass window. Maybe the Sunnvalers would have been offended if they weren't drunk off their asses. As it was, they just continued throwing shit.

Just in case they did notice, however, Bec leaned over Simon and flipped them off. She really hoped Sam got a good at it. Et fucking tu, Brute.

"Open the door!" Deena shouted.

Obviously, Bec obeyed without question. Deena was hauling around a very heavy cooler and she wasn't about to get into an altercation with that. Kate bent down to grab the other handle of the cooler. Unlike Bec (and literally everyone else involved) she actually looked concerned.

"This is definitely a good idea, right?" Kate asked.

"It's just ice and shit, Kate, they'll live," Bec said. She paused as her gaze fell on Deena's face. Or, more specifically, the glob of blood pooling in her nose. "Deena, you might wanna —"

"On three," Deena interrupted. "One, two..."

"Deena!" Kate said, finally getting the girl's attention. She gasped when she saw the blood. "Your nose!"

Kate recoiled, covering her own nose and letting go of the cooler. Deena's fingers slipped at they swung forwards. Instead of just dumping the content onto the car, the entire barrel went flying. It crashed into the hood, spilling water and rolling off to the side.

Tire's screeched as the car lurched to the side, then over corrected hard the other way. It went careening into the woods at the side of the road. Deena turned and screamed for the bus to stop.

The second they were stopped, the four rushed off the bus. It was easy to find the crash. They'd torn through the foliage like it was nothing.

Sam was on her hands and knees beside the car. She was not looking good. Cuts and bruises covered her body, a thick river of blood pouring down her face. Deena ran to her side. Sam barely responded to her apologies, instead staring at her in a daze.

"Stay away from her, you bull dyke freak!" One of the Sunnyvalers snapped.

"Sam, it's me. I'm here," Deena cupped Sam's face, ignoring the teen completely.

"Did you...see?" Sam gasped between heavy breaths.

Simon bent down in front of Sam. She blinked at him, as if confused where he had even come from. Bec hovered vaguely to the side. There was a hell of a lot of blood going on, and some shattered glass, so she was just going to stay far away from the crime scene. Besides, would it really help Sam to crowd her?

"Okay, we should not be down here," Kate said.

"Shut up, help be carry her!" Deena insisted.

"Uh, and get my finger prints all over the crime scene?" Bec raised her eyebrows. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Exactly. We need to leave, like, ten minutes ago," Kate agreed.

"We have to clear her airway," Simon said, reaching for Sam's face. Deena slapped his hand away and he defended, "Hey! I got this. Chill out. I got this."

He definitely didn't get it. Still, it was more than Bec was doing, so who was she to judge?

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Simon asked.

"Three," Sam said. It was, in fact, three.

"See? She's fine," Simon said as he looked over at Deena. Sam promptly coughed up blood all over his shirt. He stumbled to his feet and backed away quickly. "Oh. Ugh! What the fuck?"

Police sirens wailed in the distance. Bec's head snapped towards the noise. Somehow her life had gone from bad to even worse.

Paramedics rolled Sam away into an ambulance. Meanwhile, everyone else was held back for questioning. Bec leaned against a tree as she watched the others get interviewed one by one. Great. This was great. Not only was she going to get a personal visit from Sheriff Nick Dickhead Goode, they were probably going to call her dad.

This was the last thing he needed right now. Kate was right. They should've just bailed.

"Rebecca Wardwell," Goode said as she stepped in front of her. "I'm sorry about your sister."

"And I'm sorry about Jude," Bec replied. What else was she supposed to say? Thank you?

For a moment, Goode looked surprised. Then he went back to pretending he was taking this seriously and not just looking for an excuse to get on their asses.

"Right. Back to the point, wanna tell me what happened here? The truth, preferably," Goode said.

"Yeah. Sure. The truth is..." Bec sighed and looked to the side, pretending to look remorseful. Then she looked back up and flipped the sheriff off. "Kiss my ass, Nickolas."

"It's Sheriff Goode," he corrected.

"Oh. In that case, it's Bec," Bec snapped. "Listen, I get it, I'm also surprised that Sunnyvalers are suffering the consequences of their actions. But drunk teens crashing a car isn't exactly a new thing."

Sheriff Goode shook his head. Bec didn't know why she was so annoyed by his dismissal. She knew it wasn't the truth. But Goode didn't know that, his issue wasn't that Bec was lying. He had no reason to think that.

It was just that he didn't believe Sunnyvalers would ever make a mistake.

✼　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　 ҉　✼

THE HOUSE WAS QUIET THAT NIGHT. It felt unnatural. As if everyone was holding their breaths, waiting for something to break. Marney stared up at the bed above her. If she looked over at the other bunk bed, it would just be another reminder that Liz was gone. The room had always seemed too small for four seventeen year older. Now it was too big for two (three, Marney reminded herself. Bec wasn't gone. She was just at the football game.)

The floor was cold under Marney's feet. She winced and turned. Cassie was still asleep up in her bed.

'Don't summon the dead' was pretty much horror 101. Marney knew that. In a town like Shadyside, which seemed stuck in a perpetual horror movie, you sort of memorized those things. But Marney needed answers — answers she wasn't going to get just sitting around.

Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, how to summon the dead wasn't a popular book topic at the library. Marney considered masking Josh to ask his witch nerd chat room, but he was in school and she doubted they would approve. So instead she was stuck with the obvious — a fuck ton of candles and ouija board. Both of which were mostly for the atmosphere, given that most reports said they were just a fire hazard and a game respectively.

It was fine. Most sources Marney found seemed of the opinion you just...coax the ghosts out. You just made the right mood and hoped they showed up.

Liz would love this, Marney thought. Sitting here like an idiot waiting for her to show up. Maybe she wouldn't come, just out of sheer spite. Or maybe she'd just pop up to laugh at her one last time.

Something creaked behind her. Marney jumped and turned around. It was just Ruben, standing in the doorway.

"You scared me," Marney scolded.

Instead of responding, Ruben turned and shuffled off.

Marney didn't know what she expected. She turned back and nearly screamed when she saw some sitting in the chair across from her. Not Liz, but a ginger boy Marney recognized all too well.

"Aw, Marney," Jude Goode leaned across the table. "How sweet. Miss me already?"

Welcome, welcome, welcome. Hope you enjoy the book!