Jade cannot wait to see her go up against the tall shape on her dance card. It won’t matter if he’s got a chainsaw or a harpoon gun or is two-fisting machetes like nunchucks, faster and faster. Letha Mondragon, final girl extraordinaire, will walk open-eyed into those whirling blades, come out with a dark heart in her hands. She’s everything Jade always wished she could have been, had she not grown up where she did, how she did, with who she did. It’s going to be epic, this final-girl-against-slasher high noon. Unless Jade’s just making it all up, she reminds herself.
