Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(65)

“I’m bi,” Belle tells me. “And I’m out, but I wasn’t sure about you—I mean, everyone sort of knows all the things about you … like the guys you dated—and I didn’t want to assume anything! But you pretty much hated me while I was with Jamie, so I thought the most we could ever be is good friends … until Wednesday.”

She says “Wednesday” with a playful smile.

“I didn’t realize I liked you until Wednesday … Well, I guess I was denying it,” I say. “And for the record, I never hated you.”

“Right…,” she says after a long pause.

We’ve reached Belle’s house now. We stand, looking at each other like it’s a contest. I try not to blink, in case it is a contest. Then she blinks, and I win.

“Can I kiss you again? We never really got to finish, which I think is so unfair,” Belle asks, moving closer.

“Just to be fair,” I say, and she kisses me again, this time uninterrupted.

From watching TV and reading books, I always got the idea that a girl liking someone who isn’t a guy is meant to be a big deal and that there should be this pressing self-hate that comes with it. I feel almost weird with being this okay with being attracted to Belle, but then again, there’s nothing weird about this in my mind; it feels right.

Belle says goodbye, closing her front door. I start to walk toward my place, a headache forming as I’m left alone with my worries. I can’t imagine not following through with the future I’ve dreamed about; I can’t imagine going to jail; and I also can’t imagine how disappointed my parents will be. I’ve only ever worked to make them proud. Now they’ll think all their sacrifices were wasted on a monster.

I don’t notice the black car following me until a few houses down. It moves steadily, stopping and slowing when I do, then speeding up when I pick up the pace. I swallow, walking faster.

I’m probably being paranoid, I tell myself, glancing at the car window. My heart stops. Though the reflections on the glass make it hard to see clearly, I spot a pair of black-gloved hands on the wheel and the same creepy mask from Thursday covering the person’s face.

I start to run down the sidewalk, breathing hard now, eyes stinging as I try not to fall over.

What is this?

My toes feel numb in my stilettos as I try to outrun the car, the sound of the engine revving making my whole body tremble. I can see my house’s gates in the distance, and by the time I reach them, stumbling down the path, I can hardly breathe. I’m hyperventilating. As I push the keycode into the pad and rush through, I hear the car engine switch off.

I unlock the front door and dive inside, slamming it shut, sliding both bolts across.

I back away from the door like it’s a bomb about to go off, trying to catch my breath but finding it hard to get air in. As I watch, there’s a distant movement behind the blurry panes of the door.

They can’t get through the gates. They can’t get through the gates.

There’s an angry beep of the keypad, before a figure approaches the door, and the distorted smile and pale skin of the mask come into view. I scream, backing farther down the hallway.

“Mom! Dad!” I yell, sobbing as I watch the door.

No one answers. Not that I should be surprised. They’re usually at the hospital when I get home at this time.

Hardly ever home at all.

“Someone, help … please.” I whisper the last part, voice breaking.

Again, no answer.

I watch as the figure stands there, watching me. Then I watch as the mail slot opens, heart rattling my rib cage as a gloved hand pushes an envelope in. It falls to the ground as the metal flap shuts.

I don’t move.

After a few moments, the figure starts to back away, a single black line that thins as it gets farther and farther in the distance.

I stand in silence for a few minutes, my tears drying up, fingers still shaking as I try to gather myself and work out what to do.

I move toward the door slowly, snatching the envelope up and opening it. It is filled with Polaroid shots.

The first picture is of my house from inside the gates …

The next is a zoomed-in photo of me through the window as I stand in my bedroom.

The next is of me again, tugging my shirt off.

The next, I’m in my underwear, the photo taken through the gap in my curtains …

I shakily pick up the next Polaroid.

I’m in a towel, just out of the shower this time.

I already know what’s coming.

I let out a breath as I pick up the final photo.

No photo. Just writing.

All will be revealed … I’m ready to have a ball, are you?—Aces

This isn’t just texts and high school pranks.

This is now all of my deepest secrets.

This is my house. My home. Where I thought I was safe.

Aces must have gotten my address from the central administration system. But I have no idea how they got through the gate. I look around my empty foyer.

I move toward the stairs.

It’s so quiet, my footsteps echo.

If a tree drops in a forest and no one is there, does it make a sound?

If a girl all alone in a big fishbowl screams and no one is there, can you hear her? Does she even make a sound?

My phone buzzes.

It feels like I’m reliving the same nightmare over and over, and it will never stop.