brody loomis / d5

Trust me, I already know what you're going to say. As if the scowl from you on the other side of the street isn't a big enough hint. You look down at the watch on your wrist as I put a hand to my forehead to block out the sun and get a good look at you. 

"You know it's 10:30 in the morning on a Tuesday, right?" You ask me a stupid question, again, as if I don't know where I am or what day it is, just because there's a brown bag holding a fifth of liquor in it next to me. "Are you drunk?" You ask another stupid fucking question and I roll my eyes instead of answering, a groan rolling up my throat as I push myself to my feet before you. 

"Yeah, and?" I flash you what everyone else at school calls 'those crazy Loomis eyes' and then start to laugh hysterically as you let out a squeal and run in the other direction. What a loser you are. Scared to death by a seventeen year old shithead who's two shots away from being plastered on a weekday before noon. But this is my schedule. My routine. And I'm nothing if not a person who sticks to theirs. 

Tuesdays are the days I have study hall from 10 to 11:30am. I have no place else to be and if you expect me to sit through six more classes, then you can bet your fucking ass I'll be hammered. Usually Sammy is with me, but today he has some test to study for, and despite how many times I've tried to explain to him that an education is bullshit and the only knowledge we need can be learned on the streets, he still tries. Part of me loves him for it, his resilience against all odds. He wants to make something of himself and who can blame him? This world is a shit show, just turn on the TV. 

But that shit just isn't for me. I could retain all the information, spit it back up and regurgitate it on paper for a letter grade, but it just seems like such a waste of fucking time. My mother spent years working her ass off, put herself through college, got married, popped out a kid. She did everything her parent's told her to, and what did it get her? A husband who travels throughout the districts "for work", but who I caught fucking mackin' on some cunt at the local Super 8 when he told us he'd be gone to District 8 for the next two weeks. 

He's a lying sack of shit and so is the rest of the world. Except Sammy. And Sofia. 

But I'm pretty sure it was her mom that I saw with my dad. And if that's the case, then I don't know what I'll do. She's already got the perfect family life, at least on the surface. She lives in that huge house on Monford street, in the nicest house in Woodsboro. Her dad has family money, enough that her mom doesn't even have to work.

Such fucking bullshit!

Why does everyone in this stupid district have it way better than I ever have? 

I mean, she's nice enough. And we totally made out a month ago when Sammy had that house party. I got so close to second base and then Ricky busted in talking about some weird shit he saw at the football field and everyone ran out toward the school. Talk about fuckin blue balls. 

But if her mom fucked my dad, then he's gotta pay. I'll ask Sammy if he's down for some crazy shit this weekend. I gotta cook up something good. Pig's blood at prom would be a little much, and how would that affect her dad? You're right, it wouldn't.

Okay, okay. Let's focus on him. I pull out a knife from my back pocket and use it to start picking at my teeth.

Listen, if it makes you that uncomfortable, then you can fucking leave, okay? I don't need to be telling you all this. I just thought you looked like a friendly face who could keep a secret, but if that's not the case then we can just be done here, yeah?

I lean in close and press the blade to your throat. 

By the way, what's your favorite scary movie? And yes, there's a wrong answer. So get it right.