story: that one YA slasher story i keep meaning to write
“What are you doing?” Cody demands, grabbing the back of Zeke’s baggy shirt and pulling him away from the back of the cabin.
Zeke shrugs him off. “Come on, man, knock it off. I like this shirt.”
“Then don’t be weird. Shit, we’ve been here one fucking day, man, why are you off rooting through the trash?” He kicks the metal can. “Wait till it’s dark and stuff. You know that.”
“I’m not in the trash,” huffs Zeke. He pushes his bangs out of his face. They’re only just starting to grow back out in this messy sort of hay stack way. “Look at that.”
Cody squints at the wall. “What? Someone draw a dick on it already?”
“Nah. I mean, yeah, but that was me. There’s - “ Zeke kicks at the trash can, too. “ - a camera up there. Under the eave.”
Cody does not look up at the camera, because he’s not stupid. He grabs the side of the trash can instead and tilts it over, peeking into it. Empty. “So you thought coming back here and standing in front of the camera like a little weirdy was the best thing to do?”
“Not turned on yet,” says Zeke. “But it’s new. Real fancy. Like the one Mister Yang put up.” And then, “hey. What are we doing here, man?”
A glance towards the eaves, and the fancy little camera that is, in fact, tucked up out of the way. Zeke’s right. It looks new, and it looks expensive.
He says, “I don’t know.” Shakes his head, grabs a handful of Zeke’s shirt again. “But standing around out here’s not gonna help us any.”