Page 22 of Make Me Scream

“You’re a crazy person,” he says, backing away.

“She remembers,” I whisper one last time before he’s gone.

It kills me not to glance over at Joel every time someone reacts to me. Is he getting good footage? Have I stayed in range for the microphone? I can’t tell. However, he hasn’t whistled to signal he’s been forced to leave, or that I should, so I can only assume we’re okay to continue.

The crowd thickens as rush hour draws closer. Men in suits become plentiful, but they’re in more of a hurry. I have to speak louder to be heard, and no one stops. I consider calling the act off early, but finally I get a hit.

“She remembers,” I say to a man about my age. He’s moderately handsome, with highly angular features and closely cropped hair. His suit fits perfectly, likely custom-tailored. There’s a false confidence in his manner, though: he glances around constantly, as if waiting for a fight he knows he can’t handle. Did his father get him his job? Does he know he’s in danger of getting fired? Does he sense his female coworkers despise him?

When I deliver my line, I expect him to keep walking, but he stops.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asks.

“She remembers.”

He fakes a laugh.

“What are you, some kind of witch?”

I don’t answer, I just stare back.

“Did Kim set this up?”

I’d love to know who that is.

“She remembers.”

“Hey, fuck you. She said we could do it.”

I don’t reply.

“What did she tell you? She said she wasn’t going to make a thing about it, so if she said something else, she’s lying.”

All I do is stare back.

He seethes for a moment, then laughs.

“This is bullshit. You’re nobody. You don’t know Kim. You don’t.”

“She remembers,” I say.

Rage reddens the man’s face. He reaches back, balling a fist. It happens too fast for me to react.

Chapter 5

“Hey, whoa, dude,” Joel says, stepping between us. “Leave the crazy lady alone, okay?”

The spell breaks. The man retreats, especially when he notices Joel’s phone is pointed right at him.

“Yeah, whatever,” he says, turning to go. I watch him until he’s out of sight.

“You okay?” Joel asks, pocketing his phone.

I nod.

“That’s enough. Meet me at home.”

He doesn’t wait for me to answer; he slips a MetroCard into my hand and goes.

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