"It's fucking colder than a witch's tit." Jackson huffs, crossing his arms over himself to try and trap some of his own body heat.
"You got a lot of experience playing with a witch's tit?" I ask, because it's automatic. But beneath the ease of our banter, something is brewing inside of me. Something uncomfortable.
"Yeah, I fucked your mom last night after our cornfield party." Jackson snaps. "You shoulda heard her calling my name."
I roll my eyes, unbothered by his bullshit. We've been friends long enough that he knows exactly how to get under my skin. I had to learn how to stop letting it work.
"Come on." I tell him, gesturing ahead to the rows of cornstalks ahead of us.
"What the fuck for?"
"Toby's clearly here. Let's go get him."
"Sick fuck probably wanted her to himself a while." Jackson laughs. "We should let him go. This is probably the only chance he gets to get his dick wet."
I don't doubt it. But Gianna's mom is alarmed enough to get my dad involved, and that's not good for any of us. I expected to be able to intimidate her into silence, and I think we still could.I planned to corner her tonight and make sure she understands. But if the police get involved, there's too much opportunity for her to crack. And if that happens...
Well, I don't know. Jackson's dad could probably get the two of us free of any charges, at least. Butmydad? He might lock me up just for lying to him this morning.
I decide right then and there to deny, deny, deny.
There's a howl in the wind as we pick our way through the cornfield, expertly dodging getting slapped in the face by stalks of it as we amble forward. The chill seems to deepen as we get closer, which is how I know the corn is thinning.
I don't know what I expect.
To find her dead on the stake, maybe.
To find Toby fucking her into the dirt.
To see him with his hands around her throat to try and silence her before she can tell on us.
But there's none of that.
The girl we left naked and bound to the stake last night is gone, and I breathe a sigh of relief that Toby at least didn't fuck that part up. I was a little afraid to trust him to intimidate her into silence, but it was so damn cold last night— way too cold to get out of bed when my alarm went off at seven a.m.
In her place, though, there's another scarecrow. It's not the one I pulled off last night, which still lays on the ground, straw spilling out of its sleeves. The plastic pumpkin that served as its head has rolled away, resting at the edge of the cornfield, knocking slowly against it as the wind blows hard in that direction.
I stare at the scarecrow on the stake, noticing the large letter HF sewn onto the front left of the jacket.
It's the same jacket I wore last night... the same one we all have.
"Cute." Jackson laughs. "That's a nice touch. I'm guessing new girl got pissed and decided to try and make a statement."
I study the scarecrow.
It's got no hands, and the head is obscured by a burlap sack saturated in something red… colored corn syrup or ketchup, I assume.
It’s unsettling though. The whole thing looks somehow... real.
"Where'd she get the jacket, though?" I ask, taking a step closer to it, kicking one of the legs that just barely dangles off the ground. I'm surprised by the weight of it.
"One of us must have left it," Jackson shrugs. "Can we go? It's fucking cold and I'm bored. Clearly Toby's not here."
Except his car was.
So where is he?
I cock my head to the side, trying to figure out what it is about the scarecrow that's so unsettling.
