The Rains (Untitled #1)(29)

My insides felt heavy, too. I pictured that hipster beanie, the Piggly Wiggly apron. When I spoke, my voice sounded thin against the gym walls. “We saw Eddie Lu. I think he’s just nineteen.”

“He is.” A younger kid raised his hand as if he were in class. Chatterjee nodded at him. “He’s my cousin. His birthday was this summer. We had a pool party.”

“Oh, my God,” Marina said. She covered her mouth, turning away from the window so fast that her pigtails whipped her cheeks.

“What?” Patrick said.

Marina said, “Talia Randall’s out there.”

Britney stiffened at the mention of her cheer captain. “She is? Is she…?”

Marina’s face looked down at us all. She didn’t say anything.

“Oh, my God,” Britney said.

Alex said, “Wasn’t her birthday just last month?”

Britney nodded. Her lips parted in shock. Her face, suddenly wan. Sweat sparkled across her temple. I didn’t understand what was going on.

“How old did she turn?” I asked, trying to catch up.

“Eighteen,” Alex said, keeping her gaze pegged on Britney.

Britney’s trembling hand rose to the back of her head. She tugged the rainbow ribbon free, and her hair fell about her face, crowding her cheeks, her eyes. Her pale, sweaty face stared out from beneath the straggly locks.

“We did a thing in class yesterday,” Britney said faintly. “But today…”

Her fingers loosened, the ribbon unfurling from her fist. The colorful letters running down its length became visible. Even though they were sideways, I could read them clear as day.

PARTY ON, BIRTHDAY PRINCESS!


“Today’s my actual…” Britney’s voice faded away.

Alex stepped forward and took her hand. “It’s gonna be okay. There’s no way it works that precisely. You’re gonna be—”

“Do you know,” Dr. Chatterjee spoke slowly, shaping each word, “what time of day you were born?”

Britney opened her mouth to answer. Her glossy lips stayed like that, wobbling in an oval.

And then she shuddered.

Alex took an unsteady step back. “No,” she said. “No, no, no.”

Patrick came up behind Alex, and she stepped back again, bumping into him. He hugged her with one arm from behind but I noticed he kept his other hand free.

The one holding the shotgun.

Blackness stole across Britney’s eyes, darkening the whites until they looked like giant pupils.

The faintest crackling sound came, like the sound of insects feasting, as Britney’s eyeballs turned to dried bits of ash.

Alex was sobbing, bent forward, her shoulders shaking. She was screaming, but I couldn’t hear her.

The ash fell away, leaving two tunnels through Britney’s head.





ENTRY 14

Britney seemed to hang forward, her weight shifted onto the balls of her feet, hair dangling across her features, an electronic doll waiting to animate.

The kids were all standing now, backing away. A few broke for the doors. Cassius barked once, and I hushed him firmly. Up on the bleachers, Marina screamed. Alex clutched Patrick’s arm, shaking her head, her eyes rimmed red. They were about five feet away from Britney. Sprinting kids strobed across my field of vision, turning the scene into a stop-action—Alex’s hand lurching to cover her mouth, the shotgun jerkily rising in Patrick’s grip. It seemed we were the only four still points in the gym, the kids swarming all around like bees.

“We have to be quiet!” Dr. Chatterjee said. It was the first time I’d ever heard his voice raised. He was staggering away from Alex, nearly tripping over his orthotics. “If we’re too loud, we’ll bring more of them here!”

A ripple coursed beneath the skin of Britney’s face. Nothing moved, but there was a change in the substance of her flesh, as if some invisible spark had been struck. She tilted back more fully onto her feet. She lifted her head.

Those blank tunnels aimed directly at Alex. Best friend facing best friend.

Patrick remained behind Alex, his chest to her back, one arm slung protectively across her. Alex’s head was just in front of his, their bodies aligned so they were both peering down the length of the shotgun at Britney.

Thank God Patrick had thought quickly and grabbed the Winchester off the bleachers at the first sign of trouble.

Alex’s hand pressed over her mouth, holding in a scream. She was still shaking her head—no, no, no.

Britney’s shoulders drew back, her spine straightening. Then her head pulled back, too, twitching. Her body tensed to lunge.

Still Patrick hadn’t fired. Was he afraid the shotgun boom would alert the Hosts?

A loud smack of metal on metal reverberated through the gym. Britney corkscrewed up onto her toes, her spine twisting. She fell away and revealed Ben Braaten standing behind her, stun gun raised, sleek metal rod dripping fresh blood.

Britney crumpled onto the floor.

Only when I heard her limbs hit the shiny floorboards did I realize that the gym had gone completely quiet.

Alex doubled over, clutching her stomach. Her cries came soft and low, as if something had broken open inside her. Patrick held her tighter as she sank to the floor.

A puddle spread beneath Britney’s head.

Ben finally lowered the stun gun, wiped it back and forth on his thigh, and shoved it into the front of his jeans. Remorse flickered across his face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But someone had to.”