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

I glanced up. “Why?”

“Just, you know . . .” he shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “So another person would’ve seen it.”

“So you’d know whether or not I’m going crazy,” I said flatly.

Oscar sighed. “That’s not what I said.”

I squeezed my hands into fists so hard my knuckles turned white. “So you believe me? You believe it was on my camera?”

Oscar shifted in his chair, opened his mouth, then closed it again. I raised my eyebrows expectantly, and he sighed.

“Okay. Look, Kat, I do believe you. But—”

I groaned, closing my eyes. This was it. The last straw. Even Oscar thought I was losing it.

“No, listen,” he said, leaning forward. “The Thing is real. We all saw it on the bridge, and on video. I don’t know what happened to the video you got last night, but that doesn’t change the fact that literally everyone has seen a ghost that looks exactly like you. That one’s still on video, the one Jess got.”

“But?”

“But . . .” Oscar paused. “When you told me what happened to your dad’s contract, you said you’d had a weird dream the night before about him getting mad at you. And yesterday, when I came up to the suite and woke you up—you don’t even remember that! And you said when you saw the Thing, you’d just woken up from a nap, and then you got really drowsy again. So maybe you’re, like . . . sleepwalking. Or something.”

“You mean sleep blog-posting,” I said dully. “Sleep ripping up contracts. Sleep writing rude comments all over Mi Jin’s script, too?”

Oscar sighed, clearly frustrated. “Look, don’t get all defensive. I already said I know the Thing is real—I don’t think you’re making this stuff up. But maybe some of the stuff that’s happened is . . .”

“Is me,” I finished. “And I only think it’s the Thing. You know, this is a lot like what you said to me about Sonja when we were in Rotterdam. You believed I thought I was telling the truth. But that’s not the same as actually believing me.” I knew I should stop talking, that Oscar was just trying to help. But I was frustrated, too. “And that was before we were even friends. I thought you trusted me, but I guess I was wrong.”

“We are friends,” Oscar snapped. “I’m being honest with you. That’s what actual friends do, not just agree with you even when you might be wrong.”

I crossed my arms and half-shrugged. He was right, which just irritated me even more.

“And besides, think about this,” Oscar went on, his tone slightly softer. “You made the Thing, right? It came from your head. Maybe it can . . . get back in there sometimes. Make you do stuff without you realizing it.”

I sat up straighter. “You mean possess me?”

“Maybe?” Oscar’s brow furrowed. “We thought you were possessed in Buenos Aires. You had all those weird symptoms. And then the Thing . . . came out. Came out of you. So it’s kind of like you were possessed. Maybe it still has a connection with you or something.”

“Huh.”

“And . . .” Oscar tilted his head. “And your camera.”

“My camera?”

“The Thing is still on Jess’s video,” he said. “Taken on Jess’s camera. It’s only your camera it keeps disappearing from.”

We fell silent, listening to the muffled sounds of voices in the lobby. The more I thought about what Oscar had said, the more it made sense. Especially about the Elapse. My love of photography was pretty much the only thing I’d ever had in common with my mom. The Thing was the version of me that had everything in common with my mom. In a twisted way, it made sense that it’d be able to worm its way in and out of my photography, but no one else’s.

For months, I’d been trying to find an explanation for the Thing. An artificial ghost, thoughtography . . . but if there was one thing I’d learned since joining P2P, it was that there was hardly ever a definitive explanation for paranormal activity. Just theories and ideas.

Maybe the Thing was something new entirely.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN FOR THE LOVE OF BODY DOUBLES

From: acciopancakes@mymail.net

To: jamiebaggins@mymail.net

Subject: Hello

I know we talked about visiting each other over the summer. However, that will not be possible since I’m moving back to Chelsea to be with my mother and I don’t plan on leaving ever again. Also, graveyards and creepy museums are not ideal places to take girlfriends. I’m sorry for leading you on.

From: acciopancakes@mymail.net

To: jamiebaggins@mymail.net

Subject: Re: Hello

Jamie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t write that e-mail, I swear. I think maybe I figured out what’s going on. Can we video chat soon?

SORRY AGAIN!!!

Kat (the actual real one, not the fake one who says she’s the real one)

AFTER a long lunch with everyone from Talchul Films at a restaurant near the hospital, the P2P crew headed back to our hotel to get ready for tonight’s investigation. Oscar and I packed our backpacks quickly and went down to the lobby together.

“Don’t worry, Jamie’ll believe you,” Oscar said. “That e-mail didn’t sound like you at all.”

I made a face. “I hope so. If the Thing’s going to keep doing this, maybe I should just delete my e-mail account. And my blog. And just . . . not exist online, at all.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.”

I let out a little laugh as the elevator doors slid open. But honestly, the thought was tempting.

“KitKat, come over here!” Grandma called from the sofa, where she sat with Mi Jin. “You said you read Mi Jin’s screenplay, right?”

I winced, trying not to picture the horrible comments in my handwriting that covered the script. “Yeah, I did.”

“And I’d like to know what you really thought,” Mi Jin said, winking at me. “I know you said you liked it, but I get the sense that maybe you have some suggestions?”

Grandma patted the spot next to her on the sofa, and I sat down tentatively. Oscar flopped down in the armchair opposite Mi Jin and gave me a look that clearly said Don’t be a