A group of teenagers get tangled into a deadly-or "undeadly"-mess.
it was supposed to be the ONES who cheated death but it was a typo and i was too lazy to change it
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CECILIA BELLWOOD
"WILL YOU PLEASE just give me a ride to practice?" I asked Brooke. "If not, I'll just kick you out, because you're not staying at my house alone for two hours while no one is here. That's just weird." Brooke stood up from the bean bag in my room and smiled.
"Don't be stupid, Ceci. Of course I'll drive you to practice. I wasn't going to actually make you walk." I smiled at her and looked back in the mirror to perfect my ponytail. Okay, so it didn't matter how my ponytail looked, because I was just going to softball practice, but big deal. I didn't want to look like a slob, even though I'd probably be a tired mess after the two and a half hours working in the field. My light brown hair was tied up into a high ponytail. I realized I hadn't taken off my mascara, which made my blue(ish) eyes stand out at least a little, but that was fine. As long as I didn't cry during practice, which I wasn't planning on, it wouldn't matter.
I bent down and finished tying up my converse. I'd change into my cleats later. I didn't want to put them on now and scratch the wood floor of my room, even though they were already kind of scratched up from me coming back from practices, too lazy to change out of my cleats. I had black socks and softball pants and a random shirt I'd grabbed from Big 5.
Anyway, as I got into Brooke's car, she adjusted the mirror—and her lip gloss—and pulled out of my driveway. Her blond hair was down, which was nice, because I really liked her hair. It was so healthy and long, and it was something I definitely envied from Brooke Santiago, but that doesn't count her naturally beautiful features. Honestly, I envied her appearance in general.
My house wasn't too far from the high school, where practices were held—obviously—, but it definitely wasn't the funnest walking distance. Which was why I was grateful Brooke was driving me. When she pulled into the parking lot near the softball and baseball fields, we noticed a beat up car. Well, it wasn't totally beat up, but the front window was smashed and the passenger's side door had a large dent in it. I cringed at the sight.
"Yikes," Brooke said, "I'd hate to be that person. Imagine what they're gonna look like seeing their car like that." Little did we know, that person probably would never see their car again. At least not while they were sane. Or alive, if that makes sense. It all will in time, don't worry.
Anyways, Brooke parked, and I got out. I walked towards the field, but as I got closer, it looked empty. Like no one was there. I was never the first one to practice, and even if I was, the coaches always got there, like, thirty minutes early. There was no sign of anyone. So I figured they were in the dugout or something.
They weren't. I went and stood over by the pitcher's mound and looked around. There was absolutely no one. I looked over and saw Brooke was still parked. She gave me an inquisitive look and I shrugged. I didn't know what was going on. Maybe practice was canceled. I was thinking about leaving when I saw movement in the corner of my eye. I turned and saw someone walking towards the field, except they were limping. I squinted to get a better view, and as they got closer, I noticed more and more that they weren't normal. It was a girl, but she had pale blue skin and a limp. Her eyes were like she had no pupils or irises. They were totally white. And her face—her face was really beat up. So was her hair. I don't judge girls for how they look, but it looked like she'd gotten into a fight.
