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“What do you reckon?”

Steve took a swig from his can of Bud, “A dollar? Sure, I’ll take that action.”

“My man!” John cheered, “Tiffany?”

Tiffany shot back a cheeky half smile, “I’ll take that bet. I’ve seen you throw a football; I think my money’s safe.”

“Woooah,” Steve goaded, eyes ping-ponging between the boyfriend and girlfriend.

John’s chest inflated, “I’m the best damn quarterback in the state, little miss, and I’m about to prove it. You in the mood to lose some money as well, Jodie?”

Jodie tapped frantically at her cigarette, dislodging half the tobacco along with the ash, “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea, guys.”

“You got the heebie jeebies there, Cartwright?” John scoffed, “Well, whatever, it’s your buck. You’re smarter than these two if you plan to hold onto it,” John cocked back his arm, his elbow bent at 45 degrees, “Go long!”

The stone blinked through the evening sky. Only the satisfying sound of shattering glass was confirmation of its destination.

Steve wrapped his hands around his eyes like a pair of binoculars, “Second floor, first window from the left. You son of a bitch, your aim was true,” he chuckled as he produced a crumpled dollar bill.

John bent at the waist, bowing to each of them in turn. It was a more impressive feat than the throw, given how tight his skinny jeans were.

“I thank you, I thank you,” John said as he collected his winnings, “I would also like to thank Coach Fletcher, for my stellar training, God, for giving me these guns,” he kissed the bicep of his throwing arm, “and the good people over at Powerboost, for making sure Johnny gets enough whey in him to grow up big and strong! Awoo!” he bellowed, beating his chest like a gorilla.

Tiffany and Steve laughed at the antics; Jodie danced nervously on the spot.

“Damnit, John, can’t you do anything quietly?” she hissed.

“Check the attitude, slick,” John snapped back, a touch of aggression entering his voice, “Who exactly am I disturbing? This place has been abandoned for years, and I’m pretty sure only crack-heads live in this neighborhood now.”

“I heard it was those junkies that did for this lot,” Tiffany said, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets as she nodded at the old house, “A sweet young couple with three children, murdered for the change in their wallets. Makes me sick.”

Steve was looking intently at the ground, “I found an article in the local paper that said the place was a hang-out for a bunch of Satanists. One year on the solstice they decided to off themselves in some kind of ritual mass suicide-sacrifice. Nobody had any idea until the smell got so bad that folks three blocks over were complaining.”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Jesus, Steve, come on!” Jodie reprimanded, “Yeah, look, we’ve heard it all before: they were vampires; they were werewolves; aliens took them; a serial killer from out of state broke in; the government abducted them for whacky experiments; yada yada yada.”

“You forgot the one where the kid offed his parents and sisters with power tools,” John added helpfully.

Jodie gave John a sidelong look and mouthed, ‘thanks’, “The point is, we know it’s all bullshit! That doesn’t mean we should go around,” she waved a fresh cigarette about, “disrespecting the place.”

“Never had you pegged for a goody two-shoes, Cartwright,” John smirked.

“I’m multifaceted,” she sneered.

“People, people, people, keep it civil,” Steve stepped in, “Jodie has a point, whatever happened in the past, some poor bastard is probably trying to sell that place now, and I bet he’s bargaining on it having a few windows when he does.”

“Not quite what I said, but fine,” Jodie grumbled.

“Fine, ruin my fun,” John tsked.

“On the contrary, my good fellow,” Steve pointed dramatically up the road, “Ladies and gentlemen, to the park! John and I have a score to settle on the Jungle Gym.”

John brightened immediately, “You really keen to lose more money tonight, buddy?”

“The challenge has been accepted! Onwards!” They marched off to the sound of trumpet fanfare, painfully replicated through balled-up fists.

Tiffany and Jodie rolled their eyes in unison, but they were both smiling as they followed behind the pair of buffoons.

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John won the Jungle Gym Olympics five to four, after insisting on three rematches. Tiffany and Jodie were half asleep by the time they were done, and it was gone midnight. Despite the hour, Jodie rejected the offer to have the boys walk her home, even if her route did take her past the creepy abandoned house. She didn’t want them making a fuss. Alone, she could just put her head down and walk on by.

She approached the house with purpose, determined that this time she would continue without stopping.

“Come on, Jodie, just keep walking, just keep walking,” she muttered to herself.

Her legs brought her to a stop outside the neighboring yard.

“Crap! Crap, crap, crap,” she seethed and cursed, “How hard is it to just walk, you stupid feet?”

The berated feet tapped and shuffled on the pavement apologetically.

“Come on, get it together,” Jodie commanded herself, lighting another cigarette and taking a series of short puffs, “Okay, here we go.”

She bit down hard on the filter, and strode with purpose. Head down, shoulders set, she walked forwards. Not once did she look up. Not once did she glance to the side…

Yet still she felt them.

Those eyes were upon her. Four sets of eyes watching her, studying her, shaming her. Four sets of eyes glued to her, piercing deep into her soul.

She stopped at the corner of the house, parallel with the last window. She was so close to freedom. She was so close to putting the damn place behind her, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered at the ground.

Jodie took a pull on her cigarette. She turned to face the unblinking eyes.

“I’m so fucking sorry! Is that what you want to hear? Does that make you happy?” she screamed, “I’m just, just, so!” her fists clenched at her sides, “… sorry,” she sighed, the word almost lost through her tears.

The eyes did not seem to care for her apology. They watched, and they watched, and they watched.

Jodie finished her cigarette in one mighty pull and ground the butt beneath a sneaker.

“I’m going home,” she told them contemptuously.

Jodie turned on her heel and walked off towards her home. Her foster parents would be worried about her.