Read Online Creepy Teacher: A Psychological Thriller by Mackie Malone - Free Book Online Page B

y 7:45 p.m., Bailey estimated there were more than fifty students in the barn, most of them jocks and clingers from Freemont High, most of them people she rarely spoke to. A couple of faces, she had never seen before, but she eventually figured out they were students from Clayton High, and they had come with Jackson the Sackston.
    Tony Avery and Kylie Westin had been lingering next to Eric, and consequently beside Bailey, and Bailey thought Kylie was being especially nice.
    Casey Crawford brought Eric a wireless microphone, so Eric could address everyone with a few basic party rules from atop a front row hay bale, which raised him even taller than he already was.
    But first he said, “Where did Nancy Spielman go?” And when Nancy stood up on a bale, he said, “Come here, Nancy.”
    She walked across the second row of hay bales, then hopped down and up again onto the first row where Eric was standing.
    “What?” she said into the microphone.
    Eric leaned over toward her ear and whispered into the microphone, “I’m your boyfriend now, Nancy.” Then he made his tongue long and waggled it close to her ear.
    Everyone laughed.
    Nancy shied away at first, then blushed, then stood there.
    Someone shouted, “Let’s see your tongue, Nancy!”
    She showed it quickly before jumping off the bale.
    It didn’t seem to Bailey that anyone really understood the reference Eric was making, until he explained it.
    “That was one of Freddy Krueger’s most frequently quoted movie lines from the 1980’s,” he said. “For those who have never heard of Freddy Krueger, tonight you’ll experience the kind of horror flicks our parents grew up on.”
    He raised a box set of movies for everyone to see.
    Someone shouted, “Go Freddy!”
    “That’s right, go Freddy!” Eric said into the mike. “I have all seven of the original movies here, and we’ll start with A Nightmare on Elm Street at eight o’clock. We’ll then cue up Freddy’s Revenge at ten o’clock, and then Dream Warriors at midnight, and so on, until the last person leaves. If we get through number four, I’ll be shocked.”
    “All seven!” someone shouted.
    From where Bailey stood, with Kylie Westin and Tony Avery on her left, and Eric Cady standing high on the bale to her right, she couldn’t see the shouters.
    “It’s almost eight,” Eric continued. “Let’s all thank Casey Crawford for the audio setup, and Brad Townsend for the projector and gigantic screen.”
    He motioned to the speakers and screen.
    Cheers went up for Casey and Brad.
    Bailey just beamed. She was already having fun. The party seemed almost like a pep rally, but thanks to the bales of hay and the wooden barn walls and the heavy timbers supporting the roof, this gathering lacked the ringing echo of a gymnasium.
    Casey had a wireless microphone, too, and he added what he felt was an important note, saying, “Please keep all beverages away from the equipment. Thank you.”
    “Other rules,” Eric said, “are as follows…”
    “No rules!” someone shouted.
    Bailey found it interesting that only the guys were rowdy enough, at this point, to be shouting. Most, it seemed to her, were trying extra hard to be cool. Certainly, she didn’t feel a compulsion to blurt out some random, useless thing.
    “Number one,” Eric continued, “don’t toss the empties all over the barn. I’m not cleaning up your mess. There’s a recycle bin over there.” He pointed to the far left side of the large, open room that they were gathered in. “Number two, if you brought alcohol, don’t leave the property drunk. I’ll kill you myself.”
    “Or Freddy will!” someone shouted.
    “Exactly,” Eric said. “If the cops show up, you damn sure better tell them I didn’t know you brought it. I’m personally drinking peach-mango lemonade tonight, and providing the same.”
    “Bullshit!” someone shouted.
    Eric ignored that and continued on, saying, “No smoking in the barn. No drunks in the loft.” He