Page 120 of Good Girls Lie
I run back up the stairs but the door is locked. Locked from the outside. I swear I can hear breathing.
“Funny joke, ha ha. Open the bloody door, you arsewipes.”
Nothing. No more sound. It’s like I’m the only person in the world.
I slam my shoulder against the door, but it is closed tightly. I have no choice but to see where the passageway leads.
My natural claustrophobia combined with my emotional exhaustion at the past week’s events make it feel like the walls are closing in. I drag in a ragged breath.
“Keep moving. It will be okay. They’re playing a joke on you. The gits.”
I call the girls a few more names—this has to be an Ivy Bound joke, it has Becca’s sense of cruelty attached—and take the steps down. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. They’ve branded me, I am wearing the Ivy Bound insignia under my breast. They can’t kick me out. They’ve shared their secrets. I caved when they needed me to be strong. They’re giving me a second chance.
Relief is as sweet as water to my parched throat.
There is no light down here but my eyes have adjusted so I don’t feel like I’m in total blackness. Still, I have to use the nasty dirt wall to keep myself upright. My hand keeps getting tangled in cobwebs, and it is totally freaking me out. What if I get lost down here in this tunnel?
What if it’s not a tunnel at all?
Of course, it is. Don’t be stupid. Piper warned you about them first day of term. You were in one for the tap. This isn’t any different. It will open up into a cabin, and there will be a bunch of snotty bitches screaming and laughing because they’ve pulled one last prank on you. Just keep moving.
It feels like I’ve been walking forever before the air starts to clear and the path slants upward. I hurry now, desperate to get out of the close confines of the tunnel. The air changes, fresher, cleaner, then I hit a gate.
The lock on it is old and rusted. And open. Thank God. Someone has gone out this way and left it open.
Someone is waiting for me.
I step into the darkness, into the cool night air, heaving deep breaths to clear my lungs.
The moonlight spills over the ground and I see rocks, standing rocks. Then my brain does the math and I realize they are gravestones.
I am in a graveyard.
And I’m not alone.
“About time you got here, Swallow.”
71
THE CONFRONTATION
I can’t help it, I scream, but a hand clamps over my mouth so it comes out as a muffledmeep.
“Shut up! Do you want everyone to hear you?”
Panic shoots through my body, and my heart starts to thud. I thought it would be Becca on the other side of the door, laughing, joking, jolly, and happy again.
But this is not Becca.
I know this voice. It isn’t one I ever wanted to hear again. I look around wildly, how can I get away? How can I escape?
“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth. If you scream, if you call out...”
Something hard and sharp touches my neck. Christ, she has a knife. She’s insane, this I’ve always known, but she has a bloody knife.
“I’m not insane, you cow, and you know it. How dare you say such a thing?”
Oh, my God, I said it aloud.
