Anne-Marie and the mirror

Anne-Marie looked at the mirror. It was just like watching a TV show. The licking race had been a tie and the girls were bent over Nick's desk, facing each other, reluctantly making out while stagehands paddled their naked bottoms.

"What the fuck?" she said.

No response. She looked over her shoulder. Instead of her posse of cheerleaders, she saw nothing. The other mirrors had fallen silent, except for one.

"Hey," she said. "Where'd you go? Is this some kind of joke?"

The mirror shimmered, and the surface gave way to an abyss of cold, velvety blackness. Anne frowned, looking at it. It seemed to be the only way out of the room. She didn't know exactly what was going on, or why the Haunted House had a chamber full of pornographic mirrors, but it looked like this was the only way out of the room. The other cheerleaders had to be in there.

Well, she wasn't going to stay out here alone. Who'd tell her she was pretty? "Wait for me, girls," she yelled, and stepped into the dark.