The Dead Girls Club - Damien Angelica Walters Page 0,107

I needed to see her and there was no other way. That’s why I was outside Gia’s, too. Please don’t leave. I need your help. Please.”

There’s a hush between us, and his face shifts from anger to confusion and back again. “I can’t stay. I’m sorry. I love you, but I can’t. I’ll call you in a few days and we can maybe talk when we’re calm.” But there’s a look I’ve never seen. Disbelief. In me.

After he leaves, the silence in the house is deafening.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THEN

I didn’t feel good, so I stayed in my room all day. Mom took my temperature, said I had a slight fever, and brought me chicken soup I couldn’t eat. I wanted to stay in bed, but after my parents were asleep, I sneaked out through the basement once more.

Becca had to be awake by now. I hoped she wouldn’t be mad because I’d waited until now to come back. I was halfway across the field when I heard footsteps. I crouched super low and listened hard, but heard nothing else. When I stood up, I didn’t see anyone either. But I felt like someone was there, watching me.

What if Becca had just been playing a game the whole time? The knife could’ve been fake. The blood, too. What if they were all trying to trick me? With each step, I got angrier and angrier, stomping through the grass, swinging my arms. If it was a trick, it would be one of the meanest ones ever and I wouldn’t talk to her again for a long time. Wouldn’t talk to any of them.

The basement was dark, so I turned on the overhead light. Walked like a little kid down the stairs, one foot down and then another on the same stair. The candles had burned down to nothing. Becca was in the same place, the same position. She looked like she was sleeping.

“Becca?” I said, steeling myself for the jump up, the Gotcha!

She didn’t move.

“This isn’t funny anymore,” I said.

I counted to twenty, then crossed the room and knelt beside her. Her shirt was stuck to her skin, the blood dried to a hard brown crust. When I touched her arm, it was like ice. I yanked my hand away. Scrubbed my eyes. Touched her again. Poked her with a finger. Poked a second time, even harder. She didn’t flinch, didn’t do anything because—

No, no, no, no. She’d said she would come back. She’d said the Red Lady would bring her back. I shook her arm. “Becca, please. You have to open your eyes now. I’m here, so you can wake up now.”

Even if she jumped up and scared me, I’d forgive her. I’d forgive her anything if she would just open her eyes. But she didn’t move. Didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe.

Because she was dead.

I pulled away with a hiss and covered my mouth. She was dead. I’d killed her and now she was dead. Hands still over my mouth, I rocked back and forth on my heels. She couldn’t be dead. Not Becca. Not my best friend.

With a loud shriek, I jumped to my feet. “She said you’d help her! Please, you have to help her. You have to bring her back.” I turned in a circle, peering past the flickers of light into the shadows beyond. “She believed in you,” I shouted, not caring if anyone heard. “She said you’d help her. She said you’d save her. You lied to her. You lied!”

I crouched by Becca’s side and shook her again. And again and again and again. She had to come back. She had to.

But she didn’t.

She was never coming back.

I let her go and cried until my chest ached. Until my shirt was slicked with snot. Until I had no more tears to cry.

The Red Lady had tricked her. She’d tricked us both.

My shoulders sagged. And nobody was going to believe me. I’d go to jail, and I’d never see my parents again. I’d never see anyone.

Becca weighed a lot less than me, so I could pick her up, but I wasn’t sure where to take her. Back to her house? But I couldn’t do that. Her mom would see me.

Could I hide her in the field? I scraped wax off the side of a candle and flicked it off my fingers. I gathered the rest, shoving them in her backpack, on top of a bunch of folded clothes and a wad of money. I took down the picture, folded it,