spring holds a killer in her claws (dare me | addy/beth)

[fiachairecht]

spring holds a killer in her claws. dare me (tv), addy/beth, tacy, colette. a cheerleading career as told through murders. 1k words, rated m. for bluegansey in battleshipex 2020.

"Girls die cheering," Beth says, the same day she tells me we're trying out for it. "Crack a neck, puncture a lung. Pop, pop."

Her pencil stabs through her sheet of math problems, leaving perfect little holes behind, and I can't take my eyes off them. "Don't be silly," I say. "That's not gonna happen to us."

"Well, duh." Beth looks up at me, takes my chin in that pretty manicured hand of hers. "We happen to other people, right?"

I think, stop being ridiculous, nothing happens in Sutton Grove.

But if it did, it would be because of us.

*

Jeremy Lynch trips, drunk, and falls into the pool during a party after seventh grade. Beth dives in after him, laughing, sports bra tight around her new breasts and bikini bottoms hanging by a string.

"She's got him," I say, when anyone notices they're still there. Sit next to them, prod my foot against Jeremy's slick muscled shoulder every time he gets too close to surfacing.

Later, in the back of the ambulance, Beth's lips tremble when she whispers, "I tried to pull him out."

I'm the only one who notices there's no tears on her cheeks, just pool water.

*

Jeremy is an accident; Beth, our would-be hero.

"Easy," she laughs, slinging herself into my lap as the Lanvers party rages on around us. "So easy, you gotta do it next time."

First game of eighth grade down, and cheer outshone football without even trying. "It's too soon," I say, "Jeremy was -"

She jumps up, pulls me to my feet and over to where Ricky Moore's swaying at the dropoff, fly undone. "Please," Beth says, her breath warm on my cheek and her beer warm in my veins. "It's easy, do it for me?"

I reach out.

Push.

Beth's right.

*

We pause after that, the town mourning two boys who never dreamed of coming close to what Beth and I have. We're busy with other kinds of power, anyway - discovering what else our bodies can do, when the clothes are stripped away.

"Watch," she whispers to me, naked on my bed with her hand buried between her legs. I watch her hips jerk up, and up, like she's gonna fly away just like she does at practise. She twirls a nipple between her fingers, unashamed - nothing like when I've tried it in the shower.

Beth makes this look easy, too.

*

Last day of ninth grade, end of our first varsity season, and the need's burning in me again - the one thing I'd never do without Beth.

I wrap myself around her in the showers, red glitter like blood where our bodies touch. "I'm bringing a knife to Lanvers," I say.

She leans back against me, sighs, "God, I love you, Hanlon."

That's all it takes to erase any guilt I had, making Ashley's going-away party her last party ever.

Blood looks like glitter where our bodies touch, as we roll her corpse deeper into the woods.

They never find her.

*

One a year — we can do that, careful, no one too close to us but always on our special days.

"Maybe a gun," Beth says, as we watch Maggie Q on the TV drop three men without blinking.

"Fast," I say, and, "I think it would be boring," even though all the spy shows make it look fun.

"Didn't know you were in it for the torture," Beth says slyly, glancing over like she doesn't know the gentle movements of her hand inside her panties are torture of a different kind.

"I'm in it for you." That's the easy part.

*

Beth's captain now, or captain enough, and we circle the new JV meat, just waiting.

"I want it to be Tacy," she says. "It's never been someone so deserving."

"She's too close," I say, even though I want it to be Tacy too - to be rid of crumbling Tacy who falls off pyramids with no help from us, the constant reminder that there's a whole other world out there with some claim to Beth.

She'll be our last, I think, and anyway, the football team loses five games in a row. Killing the quarterback after that is a public service.

*

New year, new coach, and I don't like the way she looks at us. Like she wants us to want her.

"I hear the team's cursed," she says, first day when she's collected me and Beth in her office, smoking out the window like she doesn't care about the answer.

"Just the boys," Beth says. "They suck." Pops her bubblegum like Ashley's spleen, grins big and innocent.

Coach raises an eyebrow. "I know you have nothing to do with that."

I'm about to agree, but she just repeats, "I know you."

Beth shivers, and for the first time, I worry.

*

I don't talk in my sleep, but my hand ends up pressed between my sweaty thighs and when Beth shakes me awake she says, "Tell me you are not thinking about her."

"I'm not thinking about anyone," I say. If I can't remember it's not a lie.

Beth rolls over on top of me, her body trapping my hand right where I'm throbbing, aching, dying. "Really?" she says. "Not thinking about me? Not thinking about how we're gonna break Tacy's little head all over the floor?"

I come against my hand, under Beth, her litany of murder in my ears.

*

But Coach actually makes it easier for us, telling Tacy she could fly. By the time she slips into the ice baths, I know I've lost any chance at keeping Beth patient.

I'm doing this for her. For us. For the squad.

There's only a few of them here: the ones we trust, the ones who know what captain means.

"Cold," Tacy murmurs.

"Is not." Beth shifts, and the ice can't cover the way her hand slides under her shorts. They're both breathing hard by the time Tacy slips underwater.

I hold her down.

For Beth.

The squad will understand.