Maybe this plan is better.
We sit in silence for a while. I rub the sleep out of my eyes, leaning back against the wall but hitting my head against the table in the process.
“Shh!” Chiamaka says, looking annoyed at the fact that I injured myself.
I don’t trust myself with words right now, so I don’t reply.
“That reminds me… What took you so long to get here?” shewhispers, hitting me across the head, her balaclava now off and in her lap.
God, please… patience… thanks.
What took me so long? I was with Terrell, actually, at an ice-cream joint near his place.
“I was eating dinner,” I tell her, because ice cream technically is dinner.
I can feel her roll her eyes. Apparently, now eating’s a crime too.
“Next time, waste someone else’s time with eating; we have a creep to catch.”
“Sorry, I’ll starve and faint right in front of Aces instead—”
She pinches my leg.
“What now?” I almost shout, looking at her. Her eyes widen, and she shoves her hand over my mouth quickly.
“I saw legs!” she whispers harshly, her head turning toward the figure. There’s a pounding in my ears as I catch a glimpse of movement.
Holy shit.
Inching forward, I peer out through the gaps between the chair legs. I see a person dressed in black, an oversized hoodie covering their small frame, with black jeans and shiny Docs. Their footsteps are heavy, boots scratching against the carpet, gloved hands limp by their sides as they step toward computer 17.
This is it.
“Shit,” I whisper without thinking, triggering an abrupt pause from the figure. I freeze for a moment, and I swear my heart stops, my body vibrating as I scooch back slowly. The figure turns toward us, scanning the room, and I see the scary smile of the mask from Thursday, the one that’s been haunting me since, with its pale, vacantexpression making it look so monstrous and terrifying. They stop looking around and continue heading toward the computer.
Through the small gap, I see Aces pull out the chair in front of computer 17, sit down, cross their legs, and reach for the mouse.
My heart is beating so fast. Chiamaka’s breathing turns shallow.
She sits back against the wall and curls into a ball. Her lips move, but no words come out; she looks so freaked out.
I watch Aces’s legs as they swivel gently in the chair.
Chiamaka sits up slowly, passing me the rope she somehow fit in her hoodie pocket. She’s going to tackle them, and I am going to tie them up, then we’re going to take a photo. Hard, undeniable evidence. We’ll also take pictures of the account and anything they have saved on there. We planned this, but somehow here, in the library, it feels like we’re way ahead of ourselves.
Before I can even catch myself, she’s up and charging toward them.
“Reveal yourself, bitch!” she screams, which I guess is my cue to stand.
Chiamaka pushes the figure onto the floor and tries to remove the mask from their face. A few blond curls slip out from their hood.
I move closer, only slightly. I don’t want to get any blood on Terrell’s hoodie. I hold the rope up, getting ready to jump in and tie their hands.
Chiamaka finally rips the mask off, but instead of holding what I quickly realize is a girl down, she stumbles off the body, visibly trembling. As Chiamaka stares at her, frozen, the girl stands, turns, and rushes away from us.
What the actual fuck?
I throw down the rope and run to the library doors as they swing back toward me, hard, and then I race down the corridor. But there isnothing. No one. No sound of feet or movement in the dark hallway. I can’t even tell which way they went. I walk up to some of the doors of the nearby classrooms, and they’re all locked from the outside.
