Final Girl, Michelle Schusterman [book recommendations for young adults TXT] 📗

“It wasn’t Shelly Mathers,” Dad said. His voice was way too calm and even. “It was a fan. He took this video on his phone while Shelly was talking to you, then tweeted it.”

The video played again, and my stomach turned over. It wasn’t the whole conversation—just the clip where I snapped. I remembered how frustrated I’d been, but still, I was surprised at how furious I looked. Fists squeezed at my sides, arms straight, leaning forward slightly like I wanted to hit Shelly. Dad closed the browser abruptly and tossed his phone on the comforter.

I swallowed. “You’re mad at me.”

He took a deep breath. “No. I’m disappointed, and confused, as to why you said what you said. Especially after tearing up my contract.”

“I didn’t—”

“But I’m not mad at you.” Dad paused, squeezing the bridge of his nose, and I pressed my lips together. “I’m mad at Shelly for ambushing a bunch of kids. I’m mad at myself for not being there to do something about it. I’m mad that when my daughter’s not being attacked by psychopaths in an abandoned prison, she’s being harassed by trolls online and reporters in real life. It’s—”

“Trolls?” I interrupted, my face suddenly hot. “How did—I mean, I haven’t been . . .”

But I stopped, because I could tell from Dad’s expression that he knew. Somehow, he knew about the person who’d spent most of December leaving horrible comments on my blog. Comments I’d deleted as soon as they’d popped up—but only after screenshotting and saving each one to read over and over again later. Torturing myself. Making myself believe that all the awful things he said about me were true. Oscar was the only person I’d told, and he’d immediately deleted all of the screenshots from my phone.

“Oscar told you?” My voice came out hoarse and scratchy.

Dad’s face softened. “No, Mi Jin did. Don’t be angry at her—it was the right thing to do.”

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t angry that Mi Jin had told him, because she didn’t know about most of the comments. Just the first few. Which, frankly, were the kindest ones. I couldn’t imagine how upset Dad would’ve been if he’d seen the ones that came later. They hadn’t been just insulting. They’d been . . . degrading.

“Kat, why didn’t you tell me?” Dad waited, and when I stayed silent, he sighed. “You told Oscar, you told Mi Jin. I just don’t want you to think you can’t come to me, too.”

“I . . . I thought you’d make me get rid of my blog,” I said at last. That was true, but it wasn’t the real reason. I’d been . . . ashamed. Mi Jin only knew about the troll because she saw his first comment before I deleted it. Jamie knew because the troll had left another comment about me on the forums. But I’d never told him or Mi Jin how bad things had gotten. It was too humiliating.

The only reason I’d told Oscar was because I knew he’d been through the exact same thing.

Dad sighed. “Kat, we’ve had this talk. A few times, actually. If there’s even the slightest chance you’re in danger—”

“It was just a stupid troll!” I blurted out. “I wasn’t in danger; this wasn’t like with Emily.”

“Not just the online harassment.” Dad tapped his phone. “It’s happening in real life now, too. Reporters, fans, videos of you circulating online . . .”

I stood up again. “That wasn’t my fault!”

“I know,” Dad replied grimly. “It was my fault. You’re my responsibility. I told you, I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself.” He was quiet for a moment. “That’s why I’m seriously considering Wendy’s offer.”

“What?”

“It’s a great job,” he said. “Great pay. An established show that’s not under constant threat of cancellation. And less work, to be honest—I do love this show, especially working with Jess again, but it’s a twenty-four–seven job. How often do you and I get to spend time together doing anything that isn’t Passport related? Maybe . . . maybe that’s why you’re acting out.”

“But—no, I’m not—”

“And it’s home,” he went on, as if I hadn’t interrupted. “We could buy the house. You could go back to Riverview—Trish and Mark would be thrilled, right?” Dad cleared his throat. “And you’d be able to visit your mother and her new family more often. I really . . . I really think this might be what’s best for you. And that’s my first priority.”

My face was burning, my hands were shaking. But I forced myself to keep my voice as calm as his. “And I don’t get a say in this at all?”

“I already know you’d choose to stay with the show.” Dad paused, shaking his head. “Although, maybe I don’t know that, since you still haven’t explained why you ripped up my contract.”

A weird, harsh laugh escaped me. “I didn’t.”

“Then who did?” Dad watched me carefully, and I opened and closed my mouth a few times. “Kat, I can tell when you’re keeping something from me. And it seems to be happening more and more lately. What aren’t you telling me? If you’re really telling me you didn’t do it, I—I want to believe you. So just tell me, whatever it is.”

I closed my eyes and imagined saying it. Dad, last month I thought I was possessed and I tried to exorcise myself. But what I ended up doing was exorcising the Thing. The other daughter, the one Mom wants me to be. I created an artificial ghost that’s an alternate version of myself, and now it’s terrorizing me. It tore up your contract, and I don’t know what it will do next.

That would be the end. Dad would think I’d lost it, really lost it. He’d take me back to Ohio tomorrow. Put me in therapy. Hell, maybe even put me in a mental institution.

I couldn’t tell him.

“Nothing,” I whispered. “I don’t know what happened to your contract.”

Dad closed his eyes, and my heart sank. He didn’t believe me. And for good reason.

“I’ll let you know when I decide what to