“Awesome. With that C minus apology, I’m going to the bathroom,” I snap. Hauling my backpack over my shoulder, I stride into the narrow hall behind the breakfast bar, where an abundance of thrift store artwork covers the yellowing wallpaper. Three doors face each other, dim beneath the single bulb dangling from a wire in the center of the ceiling. Two doors for the bathroom, and a glass door markedEMERGENCY EXIT:ALARM WILL RINGat the very end.
Without a second’s hesitation, I push the emergency door open and step outside. The only sound is the screech of the hinges fighting the door’s weight. Grease & Grind hasn’t fixed the emergency exit in years, not since a brawl broke out after our high school soccer team lost to Mount Shasta’s.
I stride across the parking lot and onto the curb, where I come to a sudden stop. It hits me that I have nowhere to go. Baba should be at work right now, but it’s entirely possible he’ll take the day off to nurse his post-possession migraine. All of my friends are in the diner, probably dissecting me like a frog on a lab table.
The trees across the street rustle. A gray veil cloaks the sky over Ward, and through the lattice of clouds, a couple of watered-down rays of sunlight break through.
Beneath the trees, a shadow forms.
My chest ices over. The breath trapped between my teeth turns heavy, reshaping itself into a scream. I fix my gaze on the shadow, the instinct to run battling against the need to know what the shadow hides. If Jesse’s theory is right, more of my mother’s journal will reveal itself if I look into another shadow. If I let it manifest.
The street lays quiet. I can’t bring myself to walk toward it.
But I know it’ll come to me.
I close my eyes, and I wait. Mama’s journal thumps like a heartbeat in the back of my head.
But it isn’t a shadow that finds me.
A rough bag closes around my head, encasing me in darkness. Multiple arms haul me backward, and I only remember to struggle when the unmistakable shape of a car door bangs into my hip. I thrash, but it’s too late—the door slams shut.
I don’t stop struggling when the car screeches away, taking me with it.
Iroll around in the dark, my shoe connecting with a hard surface. “She’s gonna break my car!” I hear a familiar voice complain. Aida.
“Mina, stop wiggling!” comes another voice. It’s Lucia. “Ugh, I knew this was a bad idea.”
“What other choice did we have? Talbot’s hanging around her all the time now.” My breath stutters. Alex.
“Well, what do you think he’s gonna do when he finds out we kidnapped his girlfriend, smart guy?” The last voice, striking the perfect note between spite and boredom, can only be Rainie.
“She’s not his—shut up, Rainie,” Alex growls. “I’m not scared of him.”
“We didn’t have to put a tote bag over her head,” Lucia continues. “Poor Mina. Your heart is beating so fast.”
The screen over my vision lifts, and I blink until the shifting dots settle into Lucia’s apologetic grimace. I’m strewn across her and Rainie’s laps in the back seat of Aida’s Honda Civic.
“Hi!” Lucia waves. “We’re rescuing you.”
“Rescuing me?” I struggle to sit up, and they release me, scooting until I sandwich myself between them. “From what?”
“I’m still pissed at you, but Talbot is a menace,” Rainie says. “The hostage vibes you were giving off at the diner were hard to miss.”
I gape. “There were no hostage vibes! Listen, you guys have got it all wrong.”
The click of a seat belt comes from the front. Alex twists in his seat, angling his body into the back of the car. “Baby, please. We just want to talk. We’re all really worried about you.”
“I can’t,” I insist, but it’s uncertain. Weak, just like my rapidly breaking resolve. Being around them is too addictive. Too long, and I might start to feel normal again. Like the old me, who never knew how blood tastes when it fills your mouth. How fear can grow so deep inside you it becomes almost boring, like a tumor you forget about until it’s covered every surface it can reach.
Despite my protest, my resistance begins to drain. The familiarity of their presence, of sitting squeezed between them in the back of Aida’s car while she breaks several traffic laws, settles me in a way nothing else can.
At least, until another smell replaces the scent of Aida’s Vanillaroma tree freshener. One so faint, it’s almost forgettable. It sneaks into my nose, metastasizes in my lungs.
Decay. Rancid, bloodcurdling decay.
It’s here.
“You guys have to let me out. Let me out, please!” Can it possess someone if there’s five of us in the car? I try to reach over Lucia to grab the door handle, but she bars my path, her arms clasping mine to my sides.
