Spirit Streaer

"Oh my god, Spirit Streaker, how more on the nose can you get?" Hazel lay on my bed, eyes locked on her phone. I wished she would point out all the new posters I put up, but if she wanted to stay vapid, it was on her. "Man, Johnny's been texting you too right?"

"I blocked him two days ago," I tossed Hazel my phone. "He just started sending me numbers."

"Oh same, the most recent one as of two seconds ago is two million, three hundred thousand, something, something, can't he just send us a benchmark instead of this play-by-play on-the-hour bullshit?"

"Two million in less than a week, holy shit? On all five videos combined?"

"He's counting the views on just the highest one, he just wants a good internet score or whatever. Number four is the favorite right now."

That one was one of the ones where I only showed my bra. So it's not like anyone found out the big secret yet. My math professor was talking about it, mentioning the old dorm building, and he recognized it. God, my professor saw my chest. Would he ever find out that the Spirit Streaker is real? It's not some internet urban legend, but a real woman was in the dark, trying to give everyone a peek at all her secrets. I felt tense and scared, but the adrenaline made that feel like ecstasy. I teetered at the edge of this weird, exciting, but totally fucked up cliff, ready to jump, like one second before a roller coaster drops down its first hill. All I had in front of me was this promise of a sincere rush, a stint of some fun sexy bullshit that would probably end in flames. I kept bouncing my leg at the thought. It was a week and I couldn't keep my mind off it. Would I get the chance to do it again? I left the blinds open before going into the shower this morning. Even that made my heart go wild. Maybe no one saw me, but god, what if someone did?

"Earth to Charlie!" Hazel waved her hand in front of my face. "Are you even alive? You look like you were about to start drooling there for a second."

I definitely was. I wiped the spit from the corner of my mouth with my thumb. "Sorry, I was lost in thought."

"You sure you want to go to the Ghost Club tonight? It's fine if you're out of it."

"Johnny needs another viral video," I smirked, "or else we'd never hear the end of it."

This time the manic film director dragged us to the other side of campus. No idea how he got the keys to the football stadium. Maybe it'd be for the best I never found out. Our school is definitely not the best in the region or state, and, God, counting the high school a few blocks down, the city. However, if anyone ever mocks the Platypi, I'll send them onto the pavement. Especially if they're a Wombats fan, they're getting curb-stomped. With that belief as my leading philosophy, this stadium was my church. Though, it felt like total sacrilege to break in after hours. Every footstep echoed in these big empty halls. It was cold, absolutely freezing. Only my denim shorts and an old shirt from my high school drama club kept me safe from hypothermia. Usually, this place would be full to the brim with people. Now it was a dark mausoleum, where a few trespassers walked down corridors far too big for us.

"So what's the backstory, why's this place haunted?" Hazel asked, nudging Johnny on the shoulder. Without Lacey around, who would never allow breaking and entering, a lighter smile plastered itself across the President's face.

"What? We don't need that for this one. The Spirit Streaker haunts the entirety of campus, you know the lore, right?"

"Lore?"

"Jesus," Johnny sighed, "we're piggybacking off like two years of internet lore, so we have to play into it to get views, it's the magic of moviemaking, I swear."

"Okay, man, whatever you say." Hazel glanced at me, her glare devilish. "Guess the Spirit Streaker better make an appearance, huh?" She whispered.

"It's what gets the views," I muttered.

"Whatever you did last time Charlie, can you do it again? We got it perfect last time, and god if I could turn this into a sequel, we may be on the verge of something awesome!"

"You set up the shot, I'll go get ready. Hazel, help him."

Hazel rolled her eyes, obviously unhappy I stopped her from coming with me. I'm a secret movie star now, maybe I want to keep every detail of the behind-the-scenes secret too.

Johnny set up the camera on one side of the stadium, staring out towards the field and the seats. Once again I was so far from the camera, blanketed in such thick darkness, with the small red light the only proof of others in the void. I stood in the middle of Row G. Me and Hazel were here only a month ago, this same exact chair. Hundreds of people around me; absolutely crowded. For most of the game, I was there twiddling my thumbs, wondering to myself if anyone had noticed I skipped out on wearing a bra that day. God, it was kinda chilling out too. They were definitely poking.

Johnny must have yelled action by now. Here in a place usually so busy, what would happen if I did this during a game? Would I get famous? I'm not a judgemental woman by any means, I know how much those famous pornstars get. Who cares in the modern day? Johnny's doing the same thing right now, even if he doesn't know it. I stood on one of the seats, the plastic creaking under my worn-out tennis shoes. I turned my back to the field, feeling the cold air crawl up my spine.

My eyes wandered up. A blanket of stars stretched across the sky, so many looking back at me, seeing what I was about to do. Two feelings stirred within me as I hooked my fingers around my shorts. The first was the fluttering heart bouncing around inside as I thought of all the bits of me I was afraid to show, the weird parts about me. I think my butt looks bad, and the freckles look really ugly in one part. I have a birthmark on the back of my thigh. Jesus, I could get recognized by that, maybe, right? And fuck, did I remember to shave my legs? Maybe that matters to someone, the people behind the screen. But the stars? They'd see me and not care. I could be witnessed as my insecure self without ridicule.

What right do the stars have to judge me for how I am? I could feel as ugly as I wanted, expose everything, and I could bask in the glimmer of the far-off spectators. There was something comforting in how small I was, and how insignificant the shields I used to hide myself were. And then there was a different sensation rattling inside me. The hot mess in me found this so fun. I'm brave I'm sexy, I'm doing things that would make my family disgusted with me. I'm free, one way or another. And with that thought lifting me from any doubt or regret, I slid my shorts down to my ankles, panties falling with them.

My bare ass rose in the air as I belt down to touch my toes. I wiggled it, just kinda throwing it around hoping the camera caught sight of this strange phantom. Oh god, what if they saw part of my pussy? No way, I could do a handstand and the camera would never get a good enough glimpse, not from this far away. Hell, why not try? I kick my legs up, like a stubborn donkey, a real jackass. To add to it I screeched like a demon. The Spirit Streaker has a haunting wail, right? Probably. My feet fly up, I'm really doing a handstand now. I spread my legs apart, slowly and steadily, all risk and caution abandoned. My pussy isn't the prettiest. I don't like how it looks someday. I grew up with Barbie dolls and a lack of sex ed classes. It took years for me even to accept that my vagina was a part of my body, not just this weird thing I have ruining my life half the time. But now I was showing it off. This is my body and look at me. I'm not afraid to let it fly up in the sky. Wait. My shorts were just around my ankles, and now my ankles were dangling above me, several feet apart. Where the fuck did they go!?!

"Hey! Charlie!" It's Hazel screeching at the top of her lungs.

"What!" I yell back, throwing myself down immediately and dipping below the chairs. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, where's my shorts? Where's my shorts? They had my phone in there, my apartment key, and, fuck, like twenty bucks in cash. I'm so stupid. I'm a moron. Godammit! I'm on my knees. It's so dark I can't see anything. It's so cold, my asscheeks are freezing.

"Charlie!" I hear Hazel again, but I don't have time for her right now, this is an emergency. I don't know how I'm going to get into my room. No one can see me like this, right? Like it'd be hot, but I'd go to jail! "Charlie, run! The security cameras saw us!" I glance up from behind the seats. Jumping over the stadium walls was the rhythmic flash of red and blue. My eyes dart to the field. Four cops are already sweeping across. Fuck, I may end up in jail for real.