Thoughts click into place like pieces of a puzzle, and my hands still where they’re rinsing the conditioner out of my hair. He called meScaredy Cat,and I know that’s not a coincidence. He’s seen my blog, and I suddenly feel stupid for not realizing it.
That’s how he knew where I’d be, not once, buttwice.I post my schedule publicly to let my followers know when they can expect me to write about where I’ve gone, but I’ve never considered the idea that it might be a hazard to my safety.
But that still doesn’t explain why someone is following me around to haunts. His end goal eludes me, especially since the person is a stranger. I suppose one ofSquad Ghouls’fans could be the culprit, just trying to get a rise out of me. Or maybe…
My thoughts trail off, and I mentally recap the last couple of weeks, trying to go through and think of anything prominent.
And then it hits me, making me feel like an idiot. Really, I must be the dumbest person to ever run a blog, because I should’ve realized way before this who’s behind the mask.
Well,sort of.
There’s no way him showing up after I got the comments about wanting to scare me is just a coincidence. Not in my mind, at least. Finishing my shower, I step out and wrap a towel around myself, grumbling under my breath. It’s a joke. A bet, or something that this guy created in his mind for some reason.
I bet I could scare you, but there should be a prize involved.
That’s what he said. I remember the comment as if it’s burned into my brain, etched into my memory now more than ever. I just took it as a one-off at the time, since I get weird comments once in a while.
But it’s more than that, clearly.
This feels like a game, only I don’t know what the rules are, or how to win.
10
I have a plan.
Well, I have a second plan, since the first plan isn’t really reasonable, I suppose. My first plan involved never going to another haunt again, not posting on my blog, and playing opossum for the rest of the season.
Unfortunately, due to the demands of being an adult with bills and a house to pay off, I cannot stick my head in the sand. Tragic, really, to have to give in to the demands of capitalism and the need to eat.
So, my second plan is…
Well, I’ll come up with something.
I sigh, sitting back on my couch. My laptop is on the cushion beside me, and with my legs curled up under me, I can easily reach my little snack buffet on the coffee table. My tumbler of flavored water sits mostly untouched, while the coffee I had delivered is half-drained already, even though it’s only been in my grubby hands for ten minutes.
But having the water near me is what counts, I tell myself, not for the first time. Grabbing a bag of gummy orange slices coated in sugar, I look at my laptop again, thinking about what I can do.
I have to do my job, obviously.
I can’tnotgo to the haunts I’ve signed up for. I can’t just play dead.
But also I can’t trust that he won’t show up again. Or worse, that he won’t escalate. My biggest fear is that part—that he’ll do more than spread fake blood on my face or…
Or kiss me like his life depends on it.
Stupidly, I reach up to trace my lips, the pads of my fingers soft against my skin. My phone ringing jars me out of my little daydream, and I guiltily glance at it on the table before sneaking another gummy orange and picking it up.
“Fuck,” I mumble, sighing and leaning back against the sofa. “You pick the worst times to call.” My brother is not who I ever really want to talk to, and today is certainly no exception. But if I don’t answer, I know he’ll tell Mom, who will chew me out for ignoring calls and ‘distancing myself’ from the family.
“Hey, little brother.” I keep my voice polite, even a little friendly, as I drag my knees up to my chest and yank my comforter over myself. My eyes go to the TV, whereHalloween Warsplays with a low volume that serves as white noise in my ears. “It’s before noon. Isn’t this a little early for you to be up?” I try to keep my words teasing, while hoping this is going to be the shortest call imaginable.
“Hilarious.”Evan’s voice is just as unamused as I feel.“Mom wants to know if you’re coming home for your birthday next month.”
“And Mom can’t call me herself?” I can’t help snapping back. “Are you her messenger boy now?” God, I really just can’t stop myself from needling him, even though I know it won’t make this call any more pleasant to sit through.
Evan lets out a sharp sigh.“God, you’re insufferable today, you know?”he grumbles.“Are you coming home for yourbirthday or not? She’s going to get you a cake and try to do a whole thing for you, if you are.”
“And are you going to take the time out of your busy schedule to be there too? Or will you be with your gaming bros upstairs, gracing us only with the sounds of your victory or, more likely, defeat?” I successfully make it sound like I’m joking, at least. Even though I’m not.
