Page 52 of The Write Track
Two tables over, Preston sat stewing.
Talk at our table turned to horror movies. Everybody had a favorite to throw out, even Hayley.
Maybe saying what was on my mind, something that had been suppressed for years, wasn’t a bad thing after all.
13
THIRTEEN
“Horror movies?”
I’d suggested a walk around the lake after dinner. Preston’s glowers were starting to chafe—Bella more than me, obviously—and we’d had three s’mores each, so we needed to walk off the sugar. On top of that, I wasn’t ready to call it a night. Sure, we were going to the same place, but once we got back to the cabin, things would turn awkward over our sleeping arrangements, and I didn’t want to deal with that. Not yet, at least.
Bella cast me a sidelong look. We’d been holding hands when leaving the bonfire area—all for show, of course—but we hadn’t released one another since disappearing from the view of the others.
“Surprised?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Girls can’t like horror?”
“Oh, that’s not true. Some of the biggest horror fiends I’ve ever met have been women. I just didn’t realize you liked horror movies as much as you apparently do.”
“I mentioned it before.”
“I know. I just thought you were saying that because I write horror. That would have actually been helpful to know before Preston started in with his snark. I almost blew it and started asking you a million questions.”
“Really?”
It was mostly dark at this point, but the trail was marked with solar stakes, so that path wasn’t hard to follow. I could only vaguely make out Bella’s features as we walked. “Why is that so surprising?”
She seemed to consider the question—like really consider it—for several seconds. “I guess Preston’s reaction to my horror-movie knowledge was so bad I thought most people would react that way. I thought I was the weird one.”
“Let me guess, he thinks you’re a deviant for liking horror movies.”
“He didn’t use that exact word, but he suggested therapy because I clearly had unexpressed violent tendencies.”
I snorted. “I hate people who think that. Just because I like watching a masked killer take out some campers, that doesn’t mean I have the inclination to do it in the real world. If I ever saw a real body, I would freak out.”
“You wouldn’t.” She shook her head. “I saw one when I was a kid.”
“In Salem? Did somebody take Halloween a little too seriously?”
“No. Somebody drowned. It was an older woman. They pulled her out of the water and gave her mouth to mouth on the beach. It was too late, though.”
“Ah. Did it traumatize you?”
“I wouldn’t go swimming for a month. It was hard for me to understand that she knew how to swim but still died. My mother was patient and came up with a bunch of other things for us to do that summer that didn’t involve swimming. Shewas extremely relieved that I seemed to be over it the following summer.”
“Does Salem have a lot of water?”
“Oh, yeah. There are bays and beaches all over the place. One of my favorite walks is this little spit of land on the Derby Wharf. There’s a light station, not overly big, at the end, and you walk past the Friendship of Salem.”
“What’s that? A statue?”
“No. It’s a replica tall ship with a museum. It has a theater and everything.”
“Weird.”
“It’s just one of the things you get used to.” She laughed. “You write horror, and you’ve never been to Salem?”
“No, but it’s on my list. Maybe you’ll have to show me around sometime.”
