The Cheerleaders

by Kara Thomas

Some people say a curse fell over our town five years ago. What else could explain the tragic deaths of five girls, in three separate incidents, in less than two months?

I don’t know if we’re cursed. All I know is that my sister wouldn’t have killed herself. And if she did, why didn’t she leave a note explaining why?

Susan was programmed that way—to believe she was a failure when she wasn’t the best.

Whatever was a door slamming in your face; it meant I am annoyed but I don’t care enough to fight with you. In a lot of ways it was the worst thing you could say to a friend.

“But after a while, searching for the answers felt like grasping around in the dark. At some point, you have to choose to live in the light.”

“You can’t believe everything you hear, though. Girls are always whittling little weapons to stab each other with.”

But her throat had locked up, and all she could do was watch her best friend she had left get into a truck so big it seemed to swallow her whole.

“Everyone goes through shit, and there’s always someone somewhere who has it worse. It doesn’t make what you’re feeling any less real or any less shitty.”

“Monica, do not pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining.”

I knew what we were doing was wrong, and I didn’t care because I was ready to set my perfect life on fire and walk away while it burned.

I don’t want to stay, thinking about what happened in this car over the summer, but I can’t go back just yet. So I tilt the passenger seat back and stare at the sky over the school until I see the pink balloons floating upward—five of them, one for each girl.