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

“All right!” Trish yelled back. She grinned at me, and I grinned back, relieved she didn’t look all hurt and awkward anymore. “Maybe we can do this again when you get to . . . where exactly are you going next?”

“Seoul. And yes, definitely.”

“Cool. Bye, Kat!”

I waved at them until the screen went black. Then I took off the headphones, logged out of my account, and rubbed my eyes. Breakfast sounded good, but bed sounded better.

I compromised by grabbing a napkin with as many steamed buns as I could carry and eating them on my way back up to my room. Talking to Trish and Mark had left me feeling unsettled. I hated lying to them, I hated that I’d hurt their feelings, I hated knowing that they would probably talk to each other about why I didn’t want to move back to Chelsea, and say all the things they wouldn’t say to my face . . .

And now I had something brand-new to worry about. Could Dad possibly think I wanted to live with Mom?

I entered my room and found the beds neatly made. Dad had gotten up when I did; I was pretty sure there was a conference call going on in Lidia’s room. The cleaning staff must have come in right after we’d left. I kicked off my shoes and headed straight for my bed. But then I noticed my camera on the night table and froze.

I’d left the Elapse on top of Mi Jin’s script, like a paperweight. But now, the script was gone.

For nearly ten minutes, I searched every place I could think of. The drawers, under the bed, on top of the TV. I even looked through Dad’s paperwork on the desk, thinking maybe the cleaning staff had put all the papers together or something. Finally, I sat on the bed and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My stomach turned as I pictured my dad’s contract, all torn to shreds.

The Thing had Mi Jin’s script, I was positive. But what was it going to do to it?

CHAPTER TEN PSYCHO(LOGY)

Rumorz

All the celebrity gossip you need (and then some)!

JACK SINCLAIR’S DAUGHTER SEES DEATH OMEN IN BEIJING

by Shelly Mathers

Spoilers ahead for episode 33 of Passport to Paranormal, which aired yesterday evening.

Last night’s episode of P2P has stirred up a bit of controversy—almost as much as the infamous Daems Penitentiary episode, when the crew received an unwanted visit from former host Emily Rosinski! But this time, the visitor crashing the party wasn’t human. Well, not quite.

A supposed “ghost” with a face bearing a remarkable resemblance to host Jack Sinclair’s daughter, Kat, was spotted on the Yongheng Bridge . . . while Kat herself looked on from another part of the bridge. The startling footage sent the P2P fandom into overdrive; some have already posted their own reviews examining the clip frame by frame. Many seem to have latched on to the theory that the apparition was a doppelganger—including Kat Sinclair, who seemed unfazed by the incident and went so far as to tease the idea that the sighting may indicate she’ll meet an untimely end in the season finale.

Her rather laid-back attitude has caused many fans to speculate that this is another of the show’s infamous publicity stunts. Either way, one can’t help but wonder what P2P ’s latest host is thinking right now. Whether he’s just using his daughter for ratings or putting her in real danger, Jack Sinclair isn’t about to win Father of the Year.

AVOIDING someone is hard to do when you’re traveling together. I spent our last few days in Beijing searching everywhere for Mi Jin’s script—I even asked the receptionist to check with the cleaning staff to see if it had been accidentally thrown away—but it was gone. For now.

Obviously, Mi Jin had the script on her laptop, so it wasn’t like the original was gone. But I was too embarrassed to admit to her that I’d lost the copy she’d given me. And I still hadn’t figured out how to give her actual criticism. So I did the mature thing: total avoidance.

The night before we left for Seoul, the Yongheng Bridge episode aired. I pretended to have a stomachache and hid out in my room while everyone else watched it together. The next morning, I waited until she got into one airport van before hopping into the second. I hung in the back of the security line at the airport, then hid out at one of the shops in the concourse pretending to look at books while she and the rest of the crew got coffee. I walked five gates down to use the restroom just in case she decided to use the one closest to our gate.

“You’re such a chicken,” Oscar said when I slumped back down in the chair next to him. “Just tell her what happened and ask her for another copy.”

“I don’t need another copy,” I muttered. “I already read it. She wants feedback from me.”

“So tell her what you thought.”

“But she wants me to, like, tell her things to fix.”

“So tell her what to fix. You said you had some ideas.”

“Oscar, it’s not—I don’t . . .” I sputtered. “It’s weird. What do I know about writing?”

He shrugged. “Nothing, I guess. Except for the whole thing where you have a blog with like a billion followers.”

“This is different,” I argued, my face going hot. “It’s a screenplay.”

“Yeah. For a horror movie,” Oscar agreed. “Like the kind your grandmother starred in. Like the kind you’re totally obsessed with.” He eyed the Cannibal Clown Circus tee I had on over my long-sleeved thermal shirt. “And base your entire wardrobe on.”

I crossed my arms over the clown’s grotesque smile. “Mi Jin’s our teacher. And she’s really smart, and . . .”

“And you’re a chicken,” Oscar finished, his expression smug. “Like I said.”

I scowled, because I couldn’t argue with that, because he was totally right. Someone cleared his throat, and the smile slipped from Oscar’s face. I turned to see Roland settling into the chair