Page 133 of Final Girls

She was ready.

With the knapsack thrown over her shoulder, Tina marched up the flagstone walkway and rang the doorbell. When a kind-eyed blonde opened it, Tina knew exactly who she was looking at.

“Lisa Milner?” she said. “It’s me, Samantha.”

“Samantha Boyd?” Lisa replied, surprise thickening her voice.

Tina nodded. “I prefer Sam.”

38.

I’m awake, only my eyes don’t know it yet. The lids refuse to lift no matter how much I contort my face. I try to raise my hands and force the eyelids open with a finger. I can’t. My hands are lead, resting in my lap.

“I know you can hear me,” Tina says. “Can you talk?”

“Yes.” The word can’t even qualify as a whisper. “What—”

It’s all I can manage. My thoughts are equally as weak. Snails plowing through a field of mud.

“It’ll wear off,” Tina says.

It already is. A little. Feeling creeps back into my body. Enough for me to know I’m sitting up, something strapped diagonally across my chest. A seat belt. I’m in a car.

Tina sits to my left. I feel her presence. I hear the leathery squeak of the steering wheel in her hands even though the car isn’t moving and the engine is silent. We’re parked.

I try to move, twisting against the seat belt.

“Why—”

“Relax,” Tina says. “Save your strength. You’re going to need it soon.”

I continue to writhe in the seat. I reach for the door handle. My heavy fingers merely claw at the air.

“You could have made this easy, Quinn,” Tina says. “Trust me, I wanted it to be easy. I wanted it to last a day. Two, tops. I show up, make nice, and then have you tell me everything you remember about Pine Cottage. In and out.”

My fingers finally connect with the door handle. Somehow I’mable to pull it. The door falls open and a rush of woodsy October air hits my face. I lean toward it, trying to roll myself out the door, but the seat belt stops me. My hazy mind forgot about it. Not that it matters. Even if I was free of both seat belt and car, there’s no way I could escape. Not with most of my body feeling like marble.

“Whoa there,” Tina says as she pulls me back into the seat. When she reaches across my lap to close the door, I swat at her arm. The blows are so weak I might as well be petting her.

“This doesn’t need to be hard, babe,” she says. “I just need the truth. What do you remember about Pine Cottage?”

“Nothing,” I say, my tongue loosening. I’m even able to speak a full sentence. “I don’t remember anything.”

“You keep saying that. But I just can’t believe you. Lisa remembered everything. It was in her book. Sam did too. She told that interviewer all about it.”

My mind continues to pick up speed. My mouth follows suit. “How long have you pretended to be her?”

“Not long. A month or so. Only once I realized I could get away with it.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed to know how muchyouknew, Quinn,” she says. “After all this time, I had to know. But I needed help. And since I knew you and Lisa wouldn’t otherwise give me the fucking time of day, I pretended to be Sam. I knew it was risky and that it might not work. But I also knew it would get your attention. Especially Lisa. She did everything she could to help me find out more about Pine Cottage. I told her it would help you. I said getting you to remember would aid the healing process. She bought it for a few days before she started having second thoughts.”

“But you kept at it,” I say. “You called my mother.”

Tina doesn’t sound surprised that I know this. “Yeah, once I realized Lisa wasn’t going to do it. Then she kicked me out.”

“Because she found out who you really are,” I say, all this talking giving me strength. Energy stirs within my body. My hands are lighter. So are my legs. I can speak without thinking about it.

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