k a r r i s

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They were doing it on purpose.

There was no way the boys on the Willowridge hockey team could be such disgusting creatures. Absolutely horny and obnoxious pigs yes, but I highly doubt that these boys would be as messy if it weren't for the fact that I had to clean up after them. Sour-smelling socks with an odor so pungent I wanted to stick my head in a bucket of bleach, jockstraps strewn on the locker room benches, and of course un-flushed toilets and urinals graced my unhappy presence every afternoon.

With the predisposed ideals of brotherhood, in addition to the peer pressure of team captain, number 15, Ashton Irwin breathing down their backs, the rest of the hockey team went beyond an amazing effort to make my job ten times harder. If it wasn't the slew of Bath and Body Works products that littered the inside of their lockers that told me these boys liked to be clean, then surely it was the guilty looks on their faces each time the team exited the locker room that told me of Ashton's ulterior plot.

"Sorry," Calum mouthed as he followed the rest of the team out into the hallway, holding the door open.

I glared at the tall, tanned boy, unwilling to accept his so-called apology. The locker room door shut behind me with a jolting slam and I was left alone to clean the cringe worthy mess inside.

It was manslaughter.

"You're still here Karris?" Coach Benson walked out of his office after a couple of hours and shut the door. He pulled out a keychain from his pocket and picked out a silver key from the several in the bunch.

"Yea Coach, I am. The team left it extra messy for me today," I sighed, falling back onto one of the lockers and wiping my brow.

"It looks pretty clean to me," Coach Benson observed, scanning his eyes, "well maybe except for that athletic cup over there."

I turned my head, noticing the white cup of phallic containment on the bench and grunted angrily, "freaking disgusting."

"Karris, go home. It's Friday. It's Halloween and you should be out having some fun,"

"But the--"

"Please. You've done enough for today," Coach insisted. "Besides, leave those cups out. If the team doesn't have the decency to bring them home to wash, then it's not my fault if they start growing mushrooms on their willies."

"That's so gross," I chuckled, scrunching up my face in disgust. I pulled off the latex gloves on my hands and threw them in the trash bin. "Thanks Coach."

"Have a great Halloween Karris. I'll see you on Monday," he waved before sauntering out of the locker room doors.

With a sigh, I grabbed my hoodie off of the bench and slipped it over my head. I slung my messenger bag on my shoulder and proceeded to escape the scary confines that is the boys locker room.

The school was practically empty as I walked through the hallway, my tattered Converse screeching against the linoleum floors. Everyone was most likely at home getting ready for their Halloween festivities-- I on the other hand, had a tub of ice cream and a stack of scary movies waiting for me at home. It may not be the turn up of a century, but maybe my best friend Berkley and I could drink non-diet soda to spice things up.

Still pathetic. I know.

As I inched closer and closer towards sanctuary, I relished in the fall decorations that adorned the walls and school bulletin board. Shimmery orange and black garlands, black paper bats, and toothy jack-o-lanterns embellished the normally serious main corridor.

Creak.

I furrowed my eyebrows in curiosity, stopping in my tracks. I stood in silence for a moment, listening for any other odd noises before continuing my trek to the main doors.

Bang.

My feet came to a halt, and once again I stood stationary. Maybe it was the fact that it was Halloween or how everyone kept telling each other scary stories through out the day that I managed to psych myself out. I turned my head slowly, expecting to see another student, teacher or janitor. However, there was no other presence. I sighed, shrugging my shoulders and turned back around.

"Ah! Nucking futs!" I hollered at the top of my lungs, jumping backwards with my eyes wide open. I threw a hand to my chest, feeling my heart reverberate in chaos. "What the hell are you doing Ashton? You gave me a heart attack!"

"Damn, calm your nonexistent tits girl," Ashton threw his hands up in mock-surrender, raising his cocky brow in my direction.

My jaw dropped, taking offense to his snarky comment, "you're absolutely ridiculous you know that? I hate you Irwin." I groaned, stepping a foot forward and brushing my shoulder against his arm.

"Hold on for a sec," Ashton grabbed my wrist, ceasing me from taking another step.

"What is it? I need to get home,"

"Why? You don't have any Halloween plans. You're... ew,"

"Not that it's any of your business, but I do have plans to engage in scandalous Halloween activities,"

Ashton bursted into hysterical laugher, clutching onto his stomach, "yea right. The most scandalous thing you're getting into is non-diet soda."

Ugh. He was good. For a pretentious jerk, he was quite the observant fellow and Ashton unfortunately knew me well.

"Bye Felicia," I grumbled under my breath, hastily walking away from Ashton and pushing the doors open. The crisp October air kissed my cheeks, and I tugged onto my sweater sleeves to keep my hands warm. The parking lot was virtually empty except for a few cars sprinkled randomly in the stalls.

Then I realized. I forgot to tell Berkley to stick around for me after her dance rehearsal. I pulled out my phone and dialed her number, pressing the device up to my ear. No answer. I mentally face palmed myself, upset that I had made a stupid mistake.

"Need a ride?" Ashton stepped up next to me, placing a black beanie on top of his brown, curly hair.

"No, I'm fine," I denied his oh-so generous offer.

"Come on, it's not a big deal," Ashton insisted, "you're on the way to my house anyway."

I looked at Ashton with suspicion in my eyes, wondering why he was offering to take me home. Never had he done anything remotely nice for me and here he was, requesting that I grab a ride from him.

"If you're trying to play some kind of sick joke where you drop me off in the middle of Mexico..." my words faded, my finger wagging in his face.

"Chill out bro. Jesus Christ! This isn't a joke. I'll take you home," he promised, holding up his left hand, "besides, I can't drop you off in the middle of Mexico. I don't have enough gas to get us there."

I rolled my eyes, clearly unamused with his classless nuckery. Ashton simply chuckled, stepping down the stairs and walking into the parking lot. I followed suit, inching closer to a black two-door Civic. I hopped into the passenger side seat as Ashton started the car, his speakers immediately blasting a familiar All Time Low song. He drove in silence while I kept my eyes out the window, listening to the music.

"So, have you heard of the Mission Hills legend?" Ashton suddenly asked, breaking the awkward silence.

I looked over to him, "vaguely. But it's not really true. Just some stupid ghost story people made up."

"It's not a stupid ghost story," Ashton defended, "I can bet that place is haunted."

Now it was my turn to laugh, "oh please. Mission Hills isn't haunted."

"How do you know? Are you even aware of the story?"

"Just that the area used to be a site of satanic rituals,"

"You got that part right. But do you know the rest of the story?" Ashton questioned. He reached over to the knob on the stereo and turned down the music.

"I have a feeling you're going to enlighten me whether I answer yes or no," I predicted haphazardly.

"They say that the old Mission up there was taken over by a cult of Satan-loving witches who would prey on young girls. These witches would lure in these girls and sacrifice them. You want to know why they chose young girls?"

"Why?" I groaned.

Ashton smirked, "because they loved virgins."

Of course he would bring something like virginity up. Can't he tell a simple urban legend without having to tie me into the mix? Jeez!

"Anyway," Ashton continued, taking a left into my subdivision, "one day a bunch of mums and dads of these girls raided the Mission with pitchforks and torches. They locked up all the witches inside and set the whole place on fire, killing every single one of them. Now, legend has it that you can still hear the cries of the burning witches."

Ashton pulled up to my driveway, putting the car in park. He glared at me with mischievous eyes and a playful smirk. I looked at him, feeling discomfort with his presence.

"Thanks for the ride Ashton. I'll see you Monday," I unbuckled the seat belt and lifted my messenger bag onto my lap, trying to quickly leave the car. Ashton locked the doors. I looked at him with furrowed brows, "come on, this isn't funny to keep me hostage."

"Did you know that if a virgin ever steps foot into that Mission, the evil spirits of the witches can still sacrifice that victim?"

"That's not true. It's a myth. That fire started by the pissed off parents was actually started when a lightening bolt struck the metal cross that's on top of the Mission,"

"Prove it," Ashton demanded.

"Excuse me? And how do you expect me to do that?" I was taken aback by his words, unaware of where the heck he was headed with all of this.

"Prove it," Ashton repeated. "Take a visit there tonight."

"What? No!"

"Why? Are you scared?"

"I am most certainly not afraid," okay, maybe I was a little. "But what do I get out of it when I win this stupid bet?"

Ashton sat for a moment stroking his chin in wonder before turning back to me with a grin formed on his face.

"If you can hang out in the Mission for an hour without getting your soul sacrificed by evil spirits, then I'll make sure the entire hockey team stops trashing the locker room after each practice,"

"I knew you guys were doing it on purpose!" I bellowed, my jaw dropping, "the peach and sunshine scented body washes and shampoos totally tipped me off but now I really know. You're such a jerk Ashton!"

"Yea whatever, I admit it. We're messy on purpose to screw you over. So take the bet, win it, and you won't have to worry about crusty jockstraps ever again," Ashton persuaded.

"Fine! It's a deal!" I declared, brandishing out an open hand. Ashton held onto it, giving it a rough shake.

"Oh and Karris, if you lose and you can't survive an hour in the Mission, then the rest of your apprentice coaching gig will be a living nightmare,"

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Word count: 1889