Darla dragged Jerry toward the bleachers. She was dressed in the same uniform as the other two cheerleaders: a sleeveless green top with Statesmen printed in gold script across the front, a green skirt trimmed with gold and ending significantly above her knees, tiny white socks, and green athletic shoes. Matching ribbons secured her honey-blonde hair.
Initially, Jerry thought the tiny sparkles on Darla’s face were glistening sweat, but with a second glance, he determined it was glittery make-up. Her lips were painted sports-car red. And she smelled like someone set off a bomb in a candy shop: bubble gum, chocolate, and Peeps. The effect was like a punch in the gut, and he found it challenging to breathe.
They took seats in the first row, and Jerry forced himself to maintain eye contact, staring at irises the color of a putting green framed by impossibly long lashes.
“This is so exciting!” Darla tapped away on her phone. “We’re going to be in the school newspaper.”
“I’m not sure exciting is the word I would choose to describe what happened to your teammate.”
“Oh right.” Darla’s expression became subdued. “Do you have to write about that? It’s so depressing. Couldn’t you do a story about the squad and our trip to compete at Nationals?”
“That’s not my assignment.” He saw Darla’s lips start to form a frown. “But I could ask my editor about it.”
Darla placed her hand on Jerry’s arm. “Could you?”
Her touch was warm. Fingernails a shiny red. Jerry remembered Busby’s explosion at lunch. He never liked her cynicism. Cheering wasn’t his thing, but these girls seemed to be committed athletes, dedicating themselves to their passion. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Outstanding.” Her hand remained on Jerry’s forearm.
Jerry was having trouble concentrating. With great effort, he managed to recall why he was here in the first place. “Can I ask you about the girl who was hurt, Cassie McGlaughlin?”
“Yeah, what do you want to know?”
“How about what happened?”
“We were practicing here yesterday. They tossed her for the basket catch. Four of the guys come together and launch her into the air.” Darla stood and made an uplifting motion with her arms.
Jerry immediately missed the touch of her hand.
“She’s actually one of our better flyers. Gets good elevation and extension. The lights flickered; it was during the thunderstorm. She came down wrong, collided with someone, and splat!” Darla made a fist and pounded it into her open hand.
“Splat.” Jerry jotted in his notebook.
“At first, we thought she had the wind knocked out of her. But she was all lost up here.” Darla lifted her hands to her head and wiggled her fingers. “Cassie sat out the rest of the practice. One of the trainers checked her out. Last I heard, she was blind, and they took her to the hospital.” Darla sat down on the bleachers, closer to Jerry than before, her knee grazing Jerry’s thigh.
Jerry stole a quick glance at the tanned leg and swallowed hard. Tom Petty’s American Girl blared from his pocket. Busby! What did she want? After the display she put on in the cafeteria, Buzz was the last person he wanted to talk to. He pulled out the phone, silenced it, and jammed it into his pocket. “Sorry, I usually remember to turn off my phone when I conduct interviews.”
Darla looked up from inspecting her nails. “No one important?”
“Uh, no. Probably somebody selling extended car warranties.”
“Cause with that ringtone, I thought the call might be personal.” Darla’s green eyes bored into Jerry as if she could see the lie hidden within him.
His chest tightened and face reddened. Darla’s lips twisted into a grin, and the blushing grew worse. He broke eye contact and glanced around the gym: Mike taking photos of one of the twins in a split, the rest of the squad practicing at the far end of the court, the sole championship banner hanging from the ceiling.
“Sorry if I embarrassed you.” But Darla’s smile made it clear she was enjoying this.
“Not a big deal.” Jerry again tried to clear his thoughts. “Where was I?” He rechecked his notes. “Blind?”
Darla tilted her head. “That’s what I heard. Maybe Cassie’s better now. I don’t know.”
“I had no idea how dangerous cheerleading is.”
“Well, if you’re good like me and know what you’re doing, it isn’t so rough. But we do suffer for our sport. That’s what it takes to be a champion.”
“Can you tell me anymore about Cassie?”
“She lives in Hamilton Hall. I think she’s a Speech Pathology major. Okay for a freshman. But it’s a tough transition. You’re queen of high school, then you come here and start all over at the bottom. She didn’t know how to deal with that.”
“How do you mean?”
“For example, yesterday on the way to practice, me and Talia and Veronica were running up the steps. But Cassie was on the other side. She split the group. And she was being a real b-word about it. If you know what I mean.”
“Split the group?”
“Yeah, you know, she was on the other side of the railing. It’s bad luck. And I told her so. She acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. That’s probably why she got hurt.” Darla stopped, her mouth a perfect oval, and covered it with her hand. “Oh my gosh, you’re not going to put that in your story, are you?”
“You mean the part about how Cassie ran up the wrong side of the steps, jinxed herself, and ended up blind?”
Darla nodded, biting her lip.
Jerry shook his head. “I’ll leave that part out.”
“Thanks.” Darla leaned in and nudged her shoulder against his.
“Hey, Jerry!” Mike shouted. “We’re done with the photos and going to get pizza. You want to come with?” He sported a wide grin as Talia and Veronica flanked him.
“We’re good, Michael,” Darla replied. “But don’t forget to email me those photos.”
Jerry tapped his chest. “Actually, you need to email those photos to me.”
“Got it. Both of you.” Mike turned away and escorted the twins out of the gym.
Darla leaned forward, and Jerry was engulfed by her candy shop scent. “You seem like a really good reporter. Will you talk to your editor about doing a story on me? The struggles, challenges, and triumphs of the Assistant Cheerleading Captain? Michael can take some more photos of me: candid, action, posing. You could even come to Dallas and write a story about me competing at Nationals.” She paused and dropped her voice to a whisper. “We could have plenty of fun in Texas.”
Jerry knew The Chronicle didn’t have the budget to send him to Dallas, but this didn’t seem to be the time to discourage Darla. Could Vanessa be persuaded to let him write a story on her? “I’ll see what I can do. What’s your number? I’ll text you.”
“What’s yours? I’ll text you now.”
Jerry gave her his number. She tapped her phone.
“Okay.” Darla rose. “I’ve really got to get going.”
Jerry stood. “Thanks for the interview. It was good meeting you.” He offered his hand, but Darla ignored it, stepped forward, pressed her body to his, and hugged him.
Her hot breath brushed his ear. “Think about Dallas.”
Darla broke the embrace. She raised her arms, and the uniform top rode up, revealing her belly button surrounded by lethally tanned abs. Bending her knees, she launched into the air, spun backward, nailed her landing, and winked at Jerry.
“Au revoir.” She grabbed her gym bag, spun a hundred eighty degrees on one foot, and waved goodbye.
As Jerry watched her hips swiveling like ball bearings, he was determined to convince Vanessa to let him write a story on Darla. As she disappeared out the door, he let out a deep breath. He pulled out his phone, added Darla’s number to his contacts, and checked his texts.
Busby: at the hospital. rick’s been in an accident
Copyright © 2024 by James Blakey
SUPERSTITION by James Blakey
The Secrets of Van Buren University #1
An umbrella is opened indoors. A black cat crosses your path. Three cigarettes are lit from one match. These are omens of bad luck that no one takes seriously. But at Van Buren University when these and other superstitions are broken, students die.
Sophomore Jerry Williams’ hard-hitting reporting has won awards for Van Buren’s school newspaper. But when he connects a series of campus deaths to bad luck, his editor questions Jerry’s judgment, kills the story, and suspends him from the paper. The superstition-related havoc continues, and Darla, Jerry’s new girlfriend, barely escapes with her life. When Jerry digs deeper into the mystery and publishes his findings in the school’s alternative newspaper, the university administration threatens him with suspension for causing a panic. But Jerry’s reporting instincts won’t let him stop. With his friends and everyone else on campus at risk, it’s not like Jerry has much of a choice.
As Friday the 13th approaches, Jerry fears a catastrophe. He must uncover who or what is behind these bad luck deaths and determine how to stop it.
Fantasy Epic [City Owl Press, On Sale: September 24, 2024, Paperback, ISBN: 9781648984914 / eISBN: 9781648984921]
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About James Blakey
James Blakey is the author of more than forty short stories across a variety of genres. He is a three-time nominee for the Short Mystery Fiction Society’s Derringer Award winning in 2019 for his story ‘The Bicycle Thief.’ James lives in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley and leads writers groups in Harrisonburg, Charlottesville, and Shenandoah County.
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