Teen Hyde (High School Horror Story #2)(62)

A shaky frame of the Hollow Pines auditorium where I recognized the barnlike set pieces. The clothesline. The wheelbarrow. There was someone moving on stage amid the eerie, yellow-green tint the camera used to catch movement at night. Two eyes peered back at the camera. The pupils glowed like a cat’s. I recognized the dark bangs that brushed the eyebrows of the girl on-screen.

Honor was right. It was the sophomore Lena. Then, before I could stop it, there was a voice behind the camera. More tense and clipped than I was used to. “Say hello,” it said. “… Do something,” it commanded.

The voice behind the camera was mine.

I appeared on-screen, shooting middle fingers to an audience that wasn’t there.

I jammed my finger into the “off” button and the screen went black. I stared wide-eyed at the blank viewfinder. Up until now I’d thought there might be some other explanation for the gaps in memory and for the strange things that I’d seemed to be involved in. I’d thought that maybe somehow I had nothing to do with them. But I had. The evidence was there. Whoever was doing these things to me … was me.

“How do you know Lena?” The skin between Honor’s eyebrows puckered. She seemed almost hurt. Like if I was going to give attention to an unpopular underclassman it should have been her.

The room stopped playing at being a Tilt-A-Whirl and after a few false starts I was able to answer. “I—I don’t.” I squeezed my eyes shut as a wellspring of nausea started in the base of my stomach and pushed up against my throat. “She was filming practice for us.” I thought fast. I lied. I never used to lie. “So we could see our mistakes. She forgot her camera. I just brought it home for her. That’s all.” Honor looked skeptical. “Thanks for reminding me. You know her?”

Honor’s eyes brightened. I rarely asked her about her friends. Was Lena a friend? I hoped not. “Yeah, she’s in drama with me. She does lights and edits the stage production videos and stuff, I think.”

This was different from what Honor did. Honor wanted to be an actress and loved to sing, a gift that was otherwise at odds with her soft-spoken personality. Currently, she had a part with only one solo line, but from what I understood, even that was pretty good for a freshman.

“Oh, okay. Well, what’s she like?”

Honor scratched a spot next to her eye. “I don’t know. She’s okay, I guess. Kind of weird.” I raised my eyebrows, questioning. “Like dark, you know? She likes creepy music and sometimes colors her hair red and purple and blue.”

“You know where she lives? I actually keep forgetting to return this thing.” I gestured with the camcorder. My heart thumped in my neck and I tried not to look too hopeful. But I recalled how Liam found my number in the athletic directory. Maybe drama geeks had their own directory. I felt a spark of hope.

“She lives like five blocks over next to Kara on Oleander, near those apartments. Lena’s dad never mows their lawn and Kara’s mom is always complaining.” I had no idea who Kara was. I should probably pay attention to my sister more. “But I can just give it back to her for you tomorrow, if you want.”

I got to my feet. “That’s okay. I need to get out to run a few errands anyway and I could use some fresh air.”

I was jittery with something that felt equal parts excitement and panic. I would go to Lena. I would get answers. I would find out what was going on.

I used to be someone at Hollow Pines. Surely that ought to still carry some weight with someone like Lena.

One problem at a time. From a dresser, I grabbed an oversized sweatshirt that I’d stolen from one of the Billys back when I used to flirt. Back when I was happy. I threw it on over my sweaty tank.

“You’re going like that?” I pulled on a pair of sweats and flip-flops. “Cass, it’s still only, like, eight thirty.”

I checked the alarm clock on my vanity. “Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “I mean, I don’t think it matters what I look like.”

Honor stood blinking at me like I must be involved in some Freaky Friday moment, but she couldn’t figure out with whom I’d switched.

“Later.” I waved and grabbed my keys and left.

*

HOLLOW PINES WAS a small town, which meant there wasn’t much room to separate the good from the bad and the bad from the ugly. We lived in one of the nice neighborhoods with stone mailboxes and automated sprinkler systems, but five blocks from our home, the scenery changed. The houses shrank and grew closer together. I got Kara’s address from Honor. Her friend’s house was quaint but pleasant. It had a Texas flag hanging out front. It didn’t take me long to figure out which house was Lena’s.

Instead of picketed wood, the fence was made of chain link. Weeds crawled up the metal lattice. Grass grew ankle high and the white heads of dandelions speckled the yard. The closer I’d gotten to Oleander Avenue, the more restless my arms and legs had grown, like they were literally itching to get away from me.

I pulled into Lena’s driveway and parked behind an old truck with a rusted tailpipe. I could still turn back and pretend that nothing ever happened—or at least pretend that I didn’t know anything ever happened. But Lena was the last possible thread of a plan. Like a puzzle piece I hadn’t turned over yet because I was saving it, hoping that it would fit. I was desperate. And I was edging closer and closer to my Hail Mary.