The Mary Shelley Club, Goldy Moldavsky [e ink ebook reader txt] 📗

“You said ‘pranksters.’ Plural. Everyone else thinks it’s only one person.”

The impenetrable smirk faltered. It was nearly imperceptible, but I caught it.

“I’ll see you around, Rachel.”

When Freddie walked off, I didn’t follow him.

Even though I wanted to.

 6

PRANKSTERS. A GROUP of them.

I hadn’t just imagined it—Freddie had slipped up. It seemed so obvious now. Of course he hadn’t acted alone at the séance. He couldn’t have pulled that off by himself.

I didn’t know how big the group was or who the major players were, but I had a pretty good idea of who else was in on it. I’d been so focused on Freddie because he was the one in the shadows, controlling the buzzing with his portable speaker. But I’d totally neglected to consider the one person who hadn’t lurked in the shadows but had been center stage.

Thayer Turner and I shared third-period Women in Literature. We were studying Wuthering Heights, and Ms. Liu was trying to convince us it was a good book despite how much she hated everyone in it. As she ranted, I watched Thayer. From Ms. Liu’s perspective, it probably looked like he was taking copious notes, but from where I sat, one row over and one seat back, I could see that he was actually drawing an incredibly detailed face. It was grotesquely exaggerated, with dark, hollow eyes and crisscrossing scars.

“But why didn’t he do that?” Ms. Liu asked. “Any opinion on the matter, Mr. Turner?”

Thayer’s head snapped up. I had no idea what Ms. Liu was asking, and by the looks of it, Thayer didn’t either. I watched as he put down his pencil, closed his notebook, and cleared his throat.

“Well, what I think you’re really asking me, Ms. Liu, is why did he think he had the right to … do that? Why did he have the courage, the nerve, the audacity to … do the thing that he did that you were just talking about a second ago? And the answer, which I’m sure you’ll agree with, is that it’s because Heathcliff is a total babe.”

“Okay, Thayer, thank you,” Ms. Liu said loudly, trying to drown out the chuckles.

“What?” Thayer said. “All the descriptions in the book about him? Tall, dark, searing eyes warming Cath up on the moors. Break me off a piece of that Heath bar.”

“I said thank you, Mr. Turner. Ms. Chavez, care to answer the question?”

She’d caught me off guard and I stared at Ms. Liu for a beat too long. “Sorry, what?”

“Your opinion on Heathcliff’s desire for revenge.”

“Oh. Um.” My eyes danced over my notebook real quick. It was blank. “Revenge is bad.”

Ms. Liu looked as though she was waiting for me to say more. The ensuing silence in the room was deafening. A girl in Thayer’s row—one of Lux’s friends—mouthed “loser” at me. Bram, sitting next to her, stared me down so hard I could feel myself wilting under his glare. From somewhere behind me, I distinctly heard the sound of an unimpressed snort.

The longer everybody looked at me, the more it felt like I had a bear trap around my neck. My mind went so blank that I couldn’t even remember what book we were talking about, and I was pretty sure my mouth was making useless, halfhearted shapes.

But then the bell rang and everyone forgot I existed as they threw their stuff into their bags. I could breathe again.

Ms. Liu tried to feed us some last bits of information, but my focus was on Thayer. I channeled the adrenaline I was feeling into chasing after him.

As I ran out the door, I nearly collided with him. He was standing there, apparently waiting for me. “You were watching me in class.”

“What?” I said. “No, I wasn’t.”

“I’m very observant. Don’t try to lie.”

“I’m not ly—”

“You followed me this morning, New Girl. Before first period and after second. I mean, I get it—I’m captivating. You can do whatever you want, but please try not to fall in love with me. It will only end in heartbreak.”

“Uh.” It was all I could manage.

But then he winked and bumped my elbow with his. It felt like an invitation to walk the hall with him. So I did.

“I saw your drawing,” I said. “Nice shading of the, uh, scars.”

“Thank you! Artists are rarely appreciated during their lifetimes.”

“It was Leatherface, right? I love Leatherface.”

Thayer served me a highly quirked brow. “Weird taste in guys, but who am I to judge?”

“I mean, he’s my favorite movie bad guy of all time.”

Thayer smiled but picked up the pace. “You’re a horror fan.”

“Yeah.” I rushed to keep up. “I knew you were one too by the way you told that story at the séance. About Greta and Frank and the flies coming out Frank’s mouth. You’re a good storyteller.”

“Well, aren’t you full of compliments? I should let you follow me around all the time. But that story is completely true.”

I let out a laugh and Thayer looked at me sideways.

“Come on, Thayer, I spoke to Freddie,” I said.

“Freddie who?”

He was going to play dumb, just like Freddie had. Which meant I just had to cut to the chase. “Freddie Martinez. He told me about your group.”

Thayer stopped walking again, and this time when he looked at me, it wasn’t with skepticism or charm or humor, but alarm.

“Freddie would never tell,” he whispered.

“So there is a group. I knew it.”

“Shit,” Thayer said. “Shit shit shit.” He started walking again, faster than before, but I ran after him, compelled to find out more about this group. At first I’d only cared about the séance and clearing things up so I could get the target off my back. But I was fascinated by Freddie and Thayer, and I felt like they were part of something more. Something I wanted to be part of.

“Is it just about playing tricks on people?”

“No. Keep your voice down.”

“Do you have to be a horror fan to join? How do you join?”

“Nobody gets into the club without