It's time for everyone to get their fear on with an excerpt from the award-winning Cheerage Fearage (Wild Child Publishing, 2012):
The silver moon threw light on the two girls as they eagerly peeled off their clothes, tossing them in heaps on the wooden dock. They jumped off into the vast lake, giggling and squealing at the shock of its coldness as the dark water swallowed up their tanned, limber bodies.
Although fierce competitors on the school’s most exclusive faction, the two girls were the best of friends with much in common. They ran with the same elite crowd, dated the same square-jawed jocks, and chose the same stylish trends to be mindlessly imitated by featureless masses. Quite simply, they were perfection personified coupled with a “rules-don’t apply-to-us” attitude that even the teachers chose not to challenge - the outcome resulting in unequivocal classroom suicide.
“Nervous about tomorrow?” asked the sandy blonde with an I-know-better grin.
“Yeah, right,” shot back the redhead. “It’s in the bag, sister. Fly high or die.”
“You know I love you best, right?
“Of course. It’s you and me forever.”
They traded playful splashes and squeals until without warning, the blonde gripped the redhead’s neck taking her under. She held down the thrashing body, welcoming the newfound power and control that had evaded her for so long. Vindication was only moments away….
Responding to a startling kick to the shin, she released the girl without delay playing it off with a full-bodied laugh. “What are you doing?” the redhead yelled, spastically choking. “You trying to kill me?”
“Relax,” said the blonde. “You’re my best friend. I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”
But the redhead didn’t answer – at least not with words. Her shrill scream was cut short by the blonde thrusting her under again, this time with even more force. She yanked tufts of the covetous red hair everyone always spoke about, the crowning feature that solidified her title of reigning school beauty. Brutally jerking her head to the left and wrenching it to the right, she forced the girl to swallow massive amounts of water.
The redhead’s adrenaline now metastasized into rank primal fear. She kicked and scratched for dear life causing the blonde to tighten her grip. Overcome with sheer panic followed by pure helplessness, the redhead relaxed into an inevitable surrender.
With the determined patience of a professional assassin, the blonde counted slowly to fifty, waiting for the shapely, agile form that had cruelly beat her out of every competition to go still and flaccid forever. She delighted in feeling the strong steady pulse slow to a mere fleeting throb and then finally to complete nothingness. When the time came, the blonde released the body into the dark water without pause or sentiment, and gracefully swam back to the dock, crawling up the ladder with a smooth, athletic gait.
Giddily content, the blonde patted away streaming lines of lake water with her tank top, tossing it back on along with her vintage cutoffs. She left the other’s clothes balled up below the “NO DIVING” sign and never looked back. The long-suffering second-in-command was now the captain of the Valentine Cheerleading Squad.
It was official. The queen bee had be dethroned and destroyed.
Now available from Wild Child Publishing: