The next morning, I’m ten minutes early to the student council meeting. It’s the committee for the Bash—Fraya (unfortunately), Kevin, Iz, and Ginny— and Shelly, who texted me that she’d come to check in. Even though it’s our first meeting, and I only just got the decorations cleaned up. 

It obviously isn’t early enough, though. Fraya is already there, her perfect blond hair cascading over her shoulder as she smiles at Shelly. She waves when she sees me and, with an internal groan, I join her. If I knew it wouldn’t have looked bad, I’d have made sure she couldn’t be on the committee. 

“Perfect timing, Ash,” Fraya gushes, scooting closer to me. “I was talking to Jeff last night.” She pauses and glances around. “He’s the hottest new DJ on the local scene.”

“Oh my God,” Iz gasps, and I don’t know if she’s trying to hype Fraya or just naturally excited. “I saw him live once and it was so good!”

Iz starts to ramble on about the large animal mask and glow-stick necklace the DJ wears, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes and tell her we don’t have time for another one of her winded stories. Fraya shoots me a triumphant look, though, and I know she knew this would happen. 

I have a feeling I know where this is headed. I suddenly have an image of me trying to hold the door to the committee closed, and she’s on the other side with a hatchet, hacking away, like we’re in a real horror movie. 

“Anyway, he is, like, really interested in the Bash,” she continues. “I think he’d be a really good DJ this year. I have his number, and we follow each other on, like, three social media apps, so I can totally get in touch with him for you, Ash.”

She’s just hacked herself a large hole in my door and is trying to fit her designer shoes through. And I know this is only the beginning. Next, she’ll just happen to have a connection to a store with massive discounts on food. Then, she’ll just happen to have her mom’s designer friend volunteer to help with the haunted maze. Before I know it, she’ll be taking all the credit for the Bash, and I’ll be the sad poster child for missed opportunities. 

“That’s… so sweet of you,” I mumble, feeling a lump in my throat. “But…” I raise my voice and straighten my shoulders. “I’ve actually decided against a DJ this year.”

The room goes so quiet I feel like I can hear my own stomach digesting this morning’s cereal. 

“I mean,” I continue with a quick smile. “I feel like this year, we should be capitalizing on social media. We could have a local band play, which brings their fans to us, and have some hashtags and videos of performances.”

“Yeah, but bands can only play so much.” Fraya’s tone is icy and judgmental.

I know she’s about to pull out the claws soon. I try to give her a sympathetic smile.

“But seeing a live band is an experience,” I explain in a patient tone. “Honestly, it could be a real selling point.”

“I guess it makes sense,” Shelly says slowly, nodding her head. “But, wouldn’t the band be expensive?”

“No more than a DJ,” I reply confidently, even though I really have no idea. 

I didn’t exactly plan to say any of this, but it spills out like my brain has sprung a leak. 

“I’m also planning on looking into local vendors,” I add.

Fraya tenses at this, and I know she was definitely planning on offering to take over snacks too. I try not to feel so smug at beating her to this. 

“It can be more advertising and less prep on our part,” I explain, like I’ve thought this through (spoiler alert: I haven’t). “And I feel like they’ll make more Instagram-able food than us.”

The others chuckle, and the knot in my throat eases slightly. 

“Any other grand plans?” Fraya’s voice is clipped, and I can tell she’s about to blow a fuse.

“I… think the drama club is going to have more input in the haunted maze,” I add. “Since they have more firsthand knowledge of what really worked for the maze in previous years and what they can sell… performance-wise.”

“Wow, sounds… like a whole new Bash,” Fraya replies, and I know she’s choosing her words carefully to inflict maximum damage. “I mean, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it’s a completely new thing.”

I sense Shelly tense, like she’s thinking over Fraya’s words. 

“We’re still keeping the heart of it,” I say quickly. “But it’s nice to update traditions sometimes.”

“Well, either way it’ll be a good test.” Shelly gives me a pointed look. “Like an experiment… to see what works and what doesn’t.”

Her words are really clear: do a good job, and I’ll be a legend. Mess it up, and I’ll be lucky to be allowed back into Student Council, let alone president. I try not to gulp as I nod. 

Bec is at her locker, preening her short locks in a mirror. She sees me and closes her locker door with a raised brow. 

“I really hope you know what you’re doing,” I begin, looking around in case someone is spying on us. 

“What do you mean?” She leans against the lockers casually. 

“I told Shelly about your ideas,” I say. “We’re gonna try the whole band and vendors and drama club thing.”

It looks like surprise and maybe a little joy on Bec’s face for a half-second. Then, she narrows her eyes. 

“What made you change your mind?”  

I quickly mutter something about Fraya and back-stabbing. I can see a smirk spread across Bec’s face. 

“I get it,” she says with a nod. “Classic revenge then? Outshine her and steal her glory?”

“More like make sure she doesn’t steal mine,” I retort. 

“She’s the typical rich white girl,” Bec continues. “Definitely one of the first to die in a horror movie.”

“We aren’t killing her,” I say quickly, and Bec snorts. 

“Obviously.” She rolls her eyes. “What is this, Scream?”

I know from her tone that the last word is definitely a movie title, and it sounds like one I should know. 

“Is that… the parody of the horror movies?” I ask. “With the really loud girl in the movie theater?”

“No, that’s Scary Movie I think.” She gives me a weird look. “How do you not know Scream? The mask is iconic.”

“The chainsaw guy?” I guess with a raised brow. 

I’m pretty sure I remember posters of a masked guy with a chainsaw. Bec’s jaw drops. 

“Okay, how are you supposed to be in charge of A Night of Horror if you don’t even know horror?” she demands a little louder than necessary.

I quickly cover her mouth with a hand and look around. It’s still, like, ten minutes before the first bell even rings, so no one else is in the hallway.

“Okay, so I might need to do a little research,” I admit sheepishly. “You don’t have to announce it to the whole school though.”

Bec shakes her head, and I realize I’m still holding her mouth. I drop my hand quickly. 

“Ok,” she sighs. “I’ve got a collection of the best Western horror movies. Why don’t you come by my house later and I’ll help you research?”

I hesitate. One: I’d rather just read a few synopses without any grotesque pictures. Two: I’d rather not waste my Friday night with a girl who’s clearly a serial killer in the making. Rebel? Check. Extensive knowledge of murder? Probably. I don’t need to be a horror movie expert to know this. 

Then again, I kinda need Bec now that we’re redoing the whole Bash. And better her house than mine.

“Okay,” I agree. 

“It’s a date,” Bec says, and then sees the surprise on my face. “Kidding. I’ll text my address later.”

And with that, she disappears down the hallway, not even glancing back at me. I feel my face flush as the bell rings.