Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(71)
I click on Dianna Walker 1965, pressing the mouse again at a document labeled Aces 1. My hands are shaking.
Immediately, scanned photographs of handwritten letters appear.
Looks like our favorite negro has been up to no good.—Aces
What the fuck is this shit?
I wipe my eyes again, clicking on Aces 2 in Walker’s file. There she is, sprawled out on a bed, no clothes, eyes closed. The photo is black-and-white and crinkled. There’s something about the picture that feels like her body is being used, no consent. Something about the way this picture has been taken feels so wrong. It reminds me of the posters of Chiamaka, hung up on the lockers for everyone to see.
My stomach turns, and I close the file, feeling sick.
Suddenly, there’s a zapping sound. The graphics on the screen slowly start to fizzle out. I reach into my pocket quickly, grabbing my phone to take pictures of everything I’ve seen. I scroll up and down, hands shaking, the screen getting darker, and before I can take any more, a loud bang makes me jump back.
I scramble away from the computer like it’s an explosive ready to go off. Shielding my head, I frantically move backward, breath shaky, heart wild. I hear more zaps, like the sounds in old video games, before the screen flashes. The ace of spades card appears and then disappears, and the background turns a dazzling white.
The words Ready to play? materialize in bold black writing.
I push myself up from the floor, running toward the door. My hands vibrate as I watch the screen, heart skipping several beats when it switches off with a final zap, returning to its dark, ominous state.
There’s so much going through my mind right now. My face is wet, my body tense. This is bigger than we’d imagined. So much bigger. Aces isn’t one person, or even a small group … It’s so many people. And there were so many files I didn’t see. My mind is racing.
But the most prominent thought over all the noise is: Who was that person in the mask?
PART THREE
BALLOT OR BULLET
28
CHIAMAKA
Sunday
I don’t stop running until I’m far enough away from school that I feel safe. Tears blur my vision, the cold stinging my face.
I look around the street. It’s quiet and dark. It feels like I’m the only person left in the whole world. But I know I’m not, because I saw her. She was really here. I shakily pat my pockets, searching for my phone. I start panicking when I can’t feel it.
I must have dropped it somewhere, but I didn’t hear it fall—not that I was paying much attention to anything except getting away. I sniff, more tears falling. I shudder as cold sweeps into my body. I squint and spot a pay phone in the distance.
The fact that I know her number by heart already is a little embarrassing, but I’ve always had a good memory. When I get to the pay phone, I push in some coins from my wallet, desperately press down on the worn numbers, and listen to the sharp ring while looking through the glass, worried I’ll see a mask—or worse, that face, her face, watching me.
“Hello?” Belle’s voice sounds uncertain, probably because I’m calling from an unknown number.
“Belle, it’s Chiamaka. A-are you free right now?” I ask, sniffing again.
“Oh hey, what happened to your phone?”
I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about what happened tonight yet.
“I can’t find it,” I say.
A dog barks in the distance and I jump a little, eyes darting around again, waiting for her face to emerge.
“Are you outside?” Belle asks.
“Y-yeah, I went for a jog—c-can I see you?” I ask, teeth chattering.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine; I just … don’t want to be alone right now,” I say.
I have a feeling if I go home, she’ll be waiting for me there too. If she’s the person who was driving the car that chased me home on Friday, then she knows where I live. Mom and Dad aren’t home, so it would just be me, all alone.
“Are you sure? You don’t sound fine, Chi … You know you can tell me anything, right?” Belle says.
I nod, squeezing my eyes shut.
“I just—” My voice breaks. “I j-just can’t be alone. Can I come over?” I ask.
There’s a pause. I can hear her thinking.
“I’ve been … sick, so my room’s a mess, but Waffle Palace should still be open? I’ll meet you there?” she says. I feel some relief.
“See you soon,” I say, before hanging up and stepping out of the glass box. I look around once again, heart thrumming in my chest.
The girl’s scream echoes in my head as my mind flashes between last year, when I was sure I saw her lying on the ground as we drove away, bleeding out, eyes wide, not moving at all … Then tonight, when I ripped that mask away, I saw the dead girl staring up at me.
Alive, grinning, and with a thirst for vengeance in her blue eyes.
* * *
Half an hour later I’m in Waffle Palace, sitting back, watching the sky through the window as it shifts from dark blue to pitch-black, devoid of stars and light altogether. Trying to take my mind off tonight.
It’s only just dawning on me that I left Devon alone back at school. I hope he’s okay. I wish I could text him to check how he is. I look down at the dark brown of my hot chocolate, flecks of cream still visible on the surface. The cream is the only part I had an appetite for.