Cheerleading Can Be Murder
by Carissa
Ann LynchRelease Date: April 5th 2016
Limitless Publishing
Summary from Goodreads:
Getting on the cheerleading squad is hard enough without a psycho on the loose...
For Harrow High freshman Dakota Densford, life should be easy. All she has to worry about is talking to cute boys and remembering her locker combination. But when cheerleading tryouts draw near, she learns the cards are stacked against her—spots on the varsity team are limited. Dakota faces her competition head-on, but when her life is threatened, that takes the competition to a whole new level.
High school is never easy, and freshman year is off to a rough start…
Between Dakota’s uniform being ripped up and masked vandals trashing another girl’s house, everyone is suspect. To complicate matters further, Dakota has a thing for Andy McGraw, but she finds him locking lips with another girl.
The harassment continues, and when Dakota finds suspicious flyers inside her best friend’s locker, she doesn’t know what to think. The principal’s unfeeling, overachiever daughter, Brittani Barlow, will do anything to secure her place on the team. But Dakota’s neighbor, on the other hand, definitely fits the profile of a sociopath.
Cheerleading has become a game of life or death.
Excerpt
Prologue
The Sociopath
Do
you want to know what death smells like? What it really smells
like?
Take
a pound of raw meat—I recommend ground chuck. Stick it in a vacuum-sealed
container. Place the container in the fridge and leave it there. A few months
later, take it out.
Remove
the lid.
Nothing
can prepare you for the brick wall that smacks your face, filling every orifice
of your body simultaneously.
That
smell…not only will it blow you away, but smells like that, they stick with
you.
Lifeless
meat in a tight, confined space produces a smell sharp enough to burn the
lashes off your eyelids.
So,
for the rest of the day you’ll be moving along…and then some small thing
reminds you— little Tommy’s Happy Meal or a dump truck rolling by on garbage
day—and your nose twitches, remembers, and the hairs inside your nostrils
stiffen. Your throat tickles in the back, bile rising, and your belly rolls
uncomfortably. You try to push the thought aside, to forget that smell, but…you
can’t.
Like
I said, smells stick with you. Even months—maybe years—later, you’ll be walking
along, minding your own business, when something—anything, really—reminds you
of that smell.
I
know what death smells like…
The
house is empty, silent. The quiet consumes me, a welcoming blanket…a sign that
it’s finally time.
The
mini-fridge was my grandma’s idea. A teenager now, she thought I deserved my
own little space for drinks and snacks.
I
squatted down in front of it, listening to its hum. My heart pumped, excitement
building.
Today
was the day.
It’d
been nearly six months now since I started my little “experiment.” I’d kept a
journal, taking notes on my observations regarding the specimen. A disciplined
endeavor.
I’d
done a lot of monitoring, but today was the day to really observe,
up close and personal.
I
opened the fridge, enjoying the sticky “smooch” sound of the rubber seals on
each side separating. A couple cans of soda sat on the top shelf. Generic cola,
probably expired. On the bottom was my Tupperware container, its red cap
securely fastened in place. Keeping all the smells inside…
Carefully,
I slid the container off the shelf, carrying it to the center of my bedroom
floor, tiptoeing like a gymnast on a balance beam. I plopped on my belly,
burning my bare knees across the carpet. I pressed my face to the plastic,
looking inside like it was a tiny window. I made a funny face, pressing my lips
to the side and blowing, exposing my teeth.
Two
eyes, wide and frozenly frightened, stared back at me through the plastic
container. The eyeballs mushy now, there were tiny bits and pieces of egg-white
eyeball chunks floating in the fluids surrounding its face. The once shiny
black coat faded now to a murky brown color.
Excitedly,
I lifted the lid. Taking in the smells of death. “Meow.” I grinned at my stinky
friend.
It
was a smell I’d never forget…hopefully.
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About the
Author
Besides my family, my
greatest love in life is books. Reading them, writing them, holding them,
smelling them…well, you get the idea. I've always loved to read and never
considered myself a "writer" until a few years ago when I couldn't
find a book to read and decided to try writing my own story. With a background
in psychology, I've always been a little obsessed with the darker areas of the
mind and social problems so I try to channel all of that into my writing.
I'm the author of the Flocksdale Files trilogy, the Horror High series,
Grayson's Ridge, and This Is Not About Love. I reside in Floyds Knobs, Indiana
with my husband, children, and massive collection of books.
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