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

to staunch the bleeding with my hands, and then I took my coat off and applied as much pressure as I could to the wound in his chest. By the time paramedics arrived, my arms were sore from pressing so hard. It’d been terrifying, being alone with him as he lay unconscious, bleeding into the snow.

I didn’t know what state he’d be in now. Whatever it was, I’d thought it’d be more difficult to see him. Like maybe there’d be guards posted at his door, or restricted visiting hours and rules, or maybe he’d be flooded with too many visitors and I wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him. But all I had to do was say his name and a lady behind a desk told me his room number.

Mom let me stay home from school. Well, she made me take the day off. But I couldn’t sit still at home. And when I told her I wanted to see Bram, she understood.

I found his room and knocked, and after a moment I heard his voice. That distinctive low rumble. “Come in.”

I opened the door slowly and peeked inside. It was a private room, and Bram was alone. He was sitting, propped up with two pillows, in his hospital bed. There was a bandage wrapped over his shoulder like a toga, and on the rolling table beside him was a pink plastic jug of water. I stepped inside and watched as he reached for the jug. He winced as he gripped the cup. I walked straight to him and took the cup from him. The sound of the liquid glugging from the spout was the only thing to break the silence. I handed him the cup and he nodded his thanks before sipping from it. Bram didn’t seem surprised to see me, but then, he never had. “You’re alone,” I said.

“My parents were here all night,” Bram said. “I sent them home. My mother said she’ll be back with my favorite pajamas.”

“You have favorite pajamas?”

“They have a sushi print.”

It was a tiny detail, but this was Bram. He did not divulge details, tiny or otherwise. I took it as a sign. Maybe it meant that he’d be more open with me. That there wouldn’t be any more secrets. I hoped, at least.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been stabbed in the lung.”

The weight of that statement was enough to plop me down into the chair beside his bed. It was the harsh reality of what had happened, of how lucky he was to be alive. And how grateful I was that he’d been there.

“Thank you,” I said. The words were really not enough, but they were all I had.

Bram shrugged, or attempted to, then winced again. “Thank you, too.”

I shook my head, confused. He was the one in the hospital bed. He was the one who’d almost died. “For what?”

“You saved my life,” Bram said. “You stopped the bleeding.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, but there seemed to be an unspoken understanding between us. He knew what it was like now to end a life, to do the worst thing you could possibly do to another human being. We shared that. But Bram wasn’t a bad person. He’d done what he had to do.

I was finally learning to look at myself with the same kindness I was extending toward Bram. We were both fighters. We’d saved each other.

“Bram, there’s something I have to know. Were you really not in on it with Freddie?”

“Freddie picked you as his target and we let him,” Bram said slowly. “But I didn’t think it would go this far—none of us did. When he told us the plan for his Fear Test, we let him do it because we thought there was no way he would be able to pull it off. We didn’t think he’d have you hooked for months.”

It stung, hearing this. And the look on my face must’ve been easy to read because Bram added, “No offense.” He gave me a small smile, as if realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

Offended? Because I’d managed to get strung along by a maniac? Nah. “Thayer, too?”

“Thayer really thought you’d beat Freddie at his own game. He didn’t think it’d go as far as it went either. We both wanted out.”

I realized now that when Bram had told me to leave the club it was because he was trying to warn me. “I wish you would’ve told me.”

“I couldn’t. It was one of our Fear Test tasks. Lie and wear the mask whenever Freddie asked.”

I was consumed by a morbid desire to hear about Freddie’s plans to deceive me. I leaned into the curiosity. “Tell me his plan.”

Bram took a deep breath even though it looked uncomfortable. “Freddie wanted to slowly weave in the mask any chance he got. He wanted you to hear about it. I guess he was hoping it’d trigger you or something, that you’d be freaked out because of your break-in.”

He’d been right. “So at my Fear Test, when Lux claimed she saw someone in a mask?”

“That was Freddie.”

Of course it was. My gut had told me as much. Bram himself had told me it was him, too.

“I knew he’d worn that stupid mask, but chasing after Lux went too far. I was pissed at him for what happened to her. He told me that Lux tripped. He swore he didn’t touch her.”

“And the night of Felicity’s Fear Test? I was right, wasn’t I? It was you who Sim kicked in the ribs.”

Here, Bram looked even more contrite. “Yes.”

I nodded, feeling vindicated, and somewhat relieved that all the pieces that had seemed so scattered before were now clicking into place. But with the clarity came biting anger. I had to remind myself that Bram had fought for me. That if I could trust anyone, it was the guy who had a hole in his lung for my sake.

“So it was Freddie who spray-painted Saundra’s plaque?”

“He would rather get us all in trouble