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

And then it occurred to her that this was exactly what had happened to Lux and Bram. A masked madman had also come after them. She and Aldous and Lux and Bram were sharing the same experience. They were practically the same. Maybe, Saundra thought, she could talk to Bram about it. Maybe she’d get invited to sit at their table and compare notes on whoever this ridiculous prankster was.

But as she thought about this, Saundra noticed that the masked person wasn’t even interested in Aldous. No, he was fighting back Aldous, reaching for her.

Yeah, she was nope-ing the hell out of here.

Saundra scurried off the bed, skipping over the tangle of Aldous and the Masked Man and running out of the room. The living room, formerly bumping with life, was eerily quiet now, engulfed in darkness and disarray. Ceramic shards on the carpet, food on the rugs. Where had everyone gone?

Saundra turned and saw a group huddled together behind the couch: Avery, Donavan, and Julie, the people Aldous had been playing with. Their eyes widened in terror at something behind Saundra and she whipped her head back.

And then, suddenly, there was the masked person again. But he didn’t come from upstairs. He came from the kitchen. Saundra squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them again. Was she seeing double? Or had this guy chased her downstairs? Things that were supposed to make sense became muddled in her mind.

This Masked Man saw her—watched her—and Saundra’s first instinct was to point to the huddled, snively guys in the corner. “They’re the ones you want!”

But the Masked Man barely glanced in their direction. He still wanted her. It was just her luck that so many guys wanted her tonight and none of it was going her way.

Saundra ran. She ran through the kitchen and the Masked Man chased her. She was the mouse now and he was the cat and she did not like those odds. She ran out of the kitchen and back to the living room and this time Saundra had the wherewithal to grab a heavy bookend off a shelf. She spun around, knowing the masked guy would be right behind her and she wasn’t sure if he ran into the bookend or if she really crashed it into his head, but either way the guy went down in an explosion of a million glittery shards.

She’d done it. She’d defeated him.

Saundra took a moment to catch her breath, wiping sweat from her forehead. The first floor took on its eerie new quietness again. But out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of black cross the hall.

Saundra needed to get the hell out of there. She ran for the front door. But as soon as she got there another masked figure popped up in front of her.

“Why are there so many of you!” she shrieked. She must’ve been imagining things. There were too many of them, it was all in her mind. She blinked over and over again but the new masked person didn’t go away. She’d always hated whack-a-mole.

Saundra turned back and flew through the living room and up the stairs. Her plan now was to get back to the room, find a closet, and lock herself in there. Aldous would be there—he would know what to do. But when she got there, Aldous was gone. Instead, there was a masked figure. Another one, or the same one from before, idling like they were waiting for a party to start. “Are you freaking kidding me?”

Saundra fell to her knees, tired, confused, dizzy. She’d once seen on an episode of Grey’s Anatomy that when someone threatened to kill you, you were supposed to tell them your life story in order to gain sympathy. Luckily for her, if there was one thing she was good at it was talking about herself.

“I was born three weeks early in the middle of one of the hottest summers on record on the island of St. Croix. It ruined my parents’ fourth-anniversary trip—” She would’ve gone on, but the Masked Man interrupted her.

“Scream,” he said.

Except it wasn’t a he. The voice was female. Actually, the voice was familiar. It sounded echoey and distant, but Saundra knew that voice. She’d heard it often enough, every day at lunch.

“Rachel?”

A heavy pause filled the room as the two looked at each other, Saundra from her knees and the person through the mask. And then they—Rachel—spoke again. “Just scream!”

Rachel or not, Saundra didn’t have to be told a third time. She angled her head back and let one rip, her scream shrill enough to shake the house. Or at least that was what it felt like.

Saundra caught her breath and the Masked Man … woman … (Rachel?) … stood there a moment longer, then fled.

 39

THERE HAD BEEN a time not so long before when the anticipation leading up to a Fear Test felt kind of delicious. Like the blood in my veins was spiked with something sweet and bubbling—a high no drug could possibly touch. And the moments after a Fear Test—the comedown, when the worry of being caught mingled perfectly with the elation of pulling it off—were the best part.

Now I ran down the stairs as fast as I could, my palm slick with sweat as it slid down the banister. It was just one flight but the stairs were steep and I worried about tripping. My head vibrated with the sound of my breathing, coming fast, and the guilt of what I’d just done.

This game used to be candy. A sugary, addictive treat. Now there was only the sour aftertaste and the seeping knowledge of just how bad for you it was. The excitement that’d eclipsed everything before was eroding, eaten away by the harsh truth of what we were doing. It was a game of terror, but all we were doing was terrorizing people.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs I looked back, expecting Saundra to be right