Page 79 of I'll Be Waiting

Something isn’t right. It’s not right at all.

She’s faking it.

Drama club kid.

Drama queen.

We’re all kneeling when Heather yelps and falls back, braced on one arm. I twist to see her staring into the forest, her eyes wide.

“D-did you see that?”

She’s looking over my shoulder, so no, I didn’t see it, and my righteous anger licks back. Heather is playing Patrice’s game, except Patrice isn’t paying any attention, meaning I’m the one she’s spooking, and I’m not having it.

Except…

Except Heather’s not this good an actor. She’s staring over my shoulder in what looks like genuine fear.

When I don’t respond, she yanks her attention back and rolls her shoulders. “Never mind,” she says, snapping off the words. “I was kidding. I didn’t see anything.”

Patrice is still reciting her incantation. She never stopped. Never even faltered. Her gaze is straight ahead, face blank, those garbled words—

Heather yelps again, and this time, I see it. A dark shape darts through the forest. I grab my flashlight and shine it into the woods.

“You saw that, right?” Heather whispers.

I nod grimly. “Some asshole is out there.”

“But I don’t hear anything. They’re not making any noise, Nic. They should make some noise. Footsteps or twigs cracking.”

Her voice rises as she speaks, and I resist the urge to snap at her. Instead, I turn on Patrice.

“Shut up so we can hear—” I begin.

Patrice isn’t there. She’s on her feet, still reciting that indecipherable incantation, her notes left by her chalice as she walks into the forest.

“Not this shit again,” I say, scrambling up, flashlight in hand. “I’ll get her.”

I stride after Patrice. She’s ten feet away, stepping into the forest. I can see her in my flashlight beam. Just march over, grab her by the arm, and haul her ass back into the clearing.

But the moment she steps into the forest, shadows swallow her, and I falter, blinking. Then I give my head an angry shake. She walked behind some bushes. That’s all.

I pick up my pace, and when I step into the clearing, I spot bushes. See? Everything is fine. I’m just letting myself get spooked by their bullshit.

I’m done. Really am. Finishing this and getting out.

That’s my mantra as I march into the pitch-black forest, flashlight outstretched before me.

Done, done, done.

Instead of stopping to question why I can’t see Patrice, I take it as further proof that this is all teenage drama. Fake séance. Fake bad trip after taking fake drugs. The point is that it’s all fake, and once I haul her ass back, I’m done, and—

A hand slams between my shoulders. It’s so sudden and unexpected that I sail off my feet, and the flashlight flies from my hand. It hits the ground, and the forest falls into darkness.

TWENTY-TWO

I scramble up. My lungs scream from that blow, and my CF-trained brain interprets it as difficulty breathing, panics, and holds my muscles hostage.Stay still. Catch your breath. Nothing is ever as important as breathing.The other part screams that someone just hit me, and I sure as hell can’t stand there catching my breath.

By the time I wheel, my attacker could have taken me down, and I’m very aware of that, my brain shrieking at me.

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