Page 77 of Sinister

“Who knows, Petra? This is some . . . sick fucking prank, but it’s not a prank even. This is . . . it’s beyond anything I could have imagined.”

Claire joins us at that moment. Her face is ashen now compared to the hysterical energy that had animated her features when she had first told me of Edwin’s death. She must have heard about the latest development.

But the facts are just too horrific to even be discussed out loud.

Instead, she asks, “Do the police have any suspects?”

Harry shakes his head. “Not that I’ve heard.”

“Well, they can’t keep a lid on this forever,” Claire says indignantly. “Do they really think they can hide the . . . horrific things done to our classmate? Who the fuck are they kidding?”

This is her way of coping, I guess. Panic has turned to righteous anger.

As for me, nausea and dread are mixing into a lethal cocktail that sloshes around my insides. The grotesque detail of the rats makes it all the more disturbing.

It seems like the most twisted, neurotic thing to do. As if murdering a minor wasn’t bad enough!

“I need some air,” I say abruptly, standing up.

Claire just nods in return while Harry stands up quickly, saying, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” I reply with a smile that comes out looking like a grimace. “Thank you, but I must have a moment alone.”

Harry falls back into the chair and looks almost relieved that he doesn’t have to comfort me when clearly he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around the horrid affair.

But I can’t dwell on his fragile mental condition for much longer because the bile is back in my throat and my vision is getting hazy from tears.

Thankfully, there’s a small courtyard in this quadrant of the campus, so I head there.

21

PETRA

Wordless shock pilots my steps to the shaggy willow tree in the center of the courtyard. A woozy static makes my temples throb, and nausea makes it all so much worse.

Once I reach the tree, I kick off my shoes and dig my feet into the springy grass. It feels like a cool, prickly blanket and helps to finally calm my breathing. I take deep breaths to fight the general queasiness before popping an orange candy into my mouth. The clean, citrus tang helps settle my stomach.

Not caring about how absurd or needlessly dramatic I may look, just standing barefoot on grass under a willow tree, I spend the next several minutes breathing deeply.

Just then, my phone pings. It’s Amelia again.

So I also wanted to talk about this date I have tonight, she writes, as if still continuing the same conversation we were having before I had learned about . . . the rats. In Edwin’s chest. Which had been hollowed out.

These recollections threaten to send me over the edge, so I force myself to focus on the words on the screen in my hands.

It’s happening, Petra! I’m losing my v-card. It’s high time.

I stare at the message for a while before the words start to make sense. What do I write back? What would a friend say in this situation?

Wow, Ames, that’s a big step. Are you sure you’re ready?

There, that sounds like a coherent enough response.

Yup, 100%. But I’m nervous lol.

Again, I surprise myself by reacting appropriately.

Yeah, that’s understandable.