Dead Is the New Black

She looked pretty lively for a girl obsessed with death.

Mandatory showers had been dropped in the fall, when Lilah Porter protested the archaic practice by staging a sit-in in the gym, where she set up a projector and played the shower scene from Carrie in a continuous loop until the school board caved.

I pushed away my dessert, suddenly no longer hungry. Resentment had a way of filling up your stomach.

She was a soul-sucking vampire and I was a sixteen-year-old cheerleader, but I was damned if she was going to suck the life out of all my friends. High school was hard enough.

I liked the way he cradled my cheeks in his hands as we kissed. He pressed his body closer to mine. I moved backward until my butt touched something cold. He’d backed me into the cooler. The thought repulsed me for a second and I tried to shove him away. "Kiss me back,” he whispered, and I responded, all thoughts of where we were flying out of my brain. I wriggled closer and touched my lips to his once again. His hands tangled in my hair and the tip of his tongue met mine.