Carrie | Liz Allan

CHAPTER ONE: PLUG IT UP

Liz Allan wasn't sure how she never noticed Carrie White until that day in the locker room. She knew her by name (How could she not?), occasionally caught her in the halls in passing, offered her flyers and handed her her class schedules, seen her standing by in the corner of her gym class as always, but she never really noticed her as more than a shy fellow student.

But she knew her name well.

It had been scribbled on desks since junior high and spray painted on lockers in Midtown High. Liz knew that part enough well with all the effort that went into cleaning them off to keep the school looking spotless and like the prestigious place it was. The thing said so often about the girl was practically engraved in Liz's mind with how many times she'd seen it.

Carrie White eats shit.

While Liz never truly noticed Carrie White, whenever she saw those words once again written into a desk or painted along the lockers, whenever she overheard the girls talking about in whispers and taunts, there was a sense of overwhelming pity for her. Also a question in her mind that never seemed to go away: What did she even do to deserve such hate?

It was known Carrie was odd, with her weird, hideous clothes that covered about as much of her as possible (which sometimes weren't even that hideous in Liz's opinion, and besides, if she wanted to wear it, she could wear whatever she liked), the sight of her always praying everyday at lunch (her religion was her religion, and Liz had no problem with it if she were being honest), and telling everyone they'd go to Hell. She just seemed to have this aura about her, screaming out WEIRDO, FREAK, NOT LIKE US, KEEP AWAY.

But since when was that a reason to deal out such hatred? Other than the occasional mumble that everybody but herself and her mother were going to Hell, she was quiet. So quiet, more often than not, Liz forgot she was even there when they had class together.

Yet despite this school-wide knowledge of Carrie White the freak, Liz never really truly noticed her until that day in the showers. It also happened to be, though nobody, not even Carrie herself, was none the wiser at the time, the day Carrie's powers began to resurface since she was five years old.

That day, Liz was in gym. It was the last month of her senior year. In her mind, the plans Liz had for after she graduated were still in motion, for the future she planned to have. At the time, she wouldn't have thought once about what Carrie White would be doing.

Probably stay home with her mother and pray nonstop like her until she became a completely devoted, religious nutjob, too-

Don't say stuff like that, Liz, she mentally scolded herself.

The class was playing volleyball. The teacher, Mrs. Desjardin, blew her whistle.

"Let's go everyone!" she ordered. "We don't have all day to stand around and chat."

Everyone made up their teams on either side of the net, Michelle however opting to stay up in the bleachers to read. Whenever Mrs. Desjardin would call up to her to come down and participate, she ignored her. Liz was on the blue team, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Carrie walk over to her side of the field, the red team, opposite to Liz, and stood there, staring at the ground. The other students, herself included, were laughing as they got ready to play the sport.

After a while playing, throwing the ball over the net back and forth, someone calling out the score each time the volleyball was served, Mrs. Desjardin blew her whistle again, only this time it wasn't directed at any of them. "Alright, Carrie," she shouted across the room, pointing at the blonde girl standing on the sidelines by herself, "let's get into the game! You can't stay on the side lines forever."