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Summary
“Oh, shit.”
Shane’s head whips back, clipping Whitney’s mouth, slicing his teeth into his own lip.
“Ow! Fucking—cunt.” Whitney grips Shane’s hair in a fist but Shane ignores him, pointing at the lake.
“Fuck—Whitney!”
The girl in the audience sees it before he does. Her scream echoes over the lake and finally Whitney stops, looking through the reeds at the edge of the water. At first he thinks it’s a clump of dead plants, just more of the nasty shit that washes up on shore. But once he sits back on his heels, he sees the slack, gaping lips, the dull eyes, both wide open against the muddy water.
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