Chapter 9
“I’m Carla, by the way,” Carla says as we reenter the living room, as if I wouldn’t already know who she was.
What catches me off guard is the ease in her tone. Light and airy in a way that doesn’t seem possible for a girl who regularly makes people cry if they so much as look at her the wrong way. And especially not toward me—someone she has history with.
We haven’t interacted since Papi’s trial, though we hardly ever interacted before that either.
The cameras loved her almost as much as she loved them—the young, beautiful grieving girlfriend.
She’d played her part perfectly, dabbing her tears with a monogrammed handkerchief every time a camera was shoved in her face.
Sang the praises of her now-dead boyfriend, about how she was sure they were going to be forever—even though everyone knew they’d broken up nearly a month before the murder.
With a story as juicy as my father’s, though, the newscasters didn’t bother to fact-check the teen drama side of the matter.
Still, I wouldn’t blame her for hating me. It’s hard seeing a reminder of someone you lost every day.
Carla slinks across the room to slide into the unfamiliar boy’s lap. His arms instantly snake around her waist as he presses a sloppy kiss to her neck—the gesture strangely heated considering they’re in front of an audience. Beside me, Kiki rolls her eyes while Kai shifts uncomfortably.
“And this is my boyfriend, Timothy,” Carla explains on his behalf, playfully pulling down the brim of his ballcap when he continues trying to glom onto her like a dog in heat.
Finally, the pieces click into place. Timothy Gibson, captain of the football team and the subject of several summons to the principal’s office over the PA loudspeaker.
Sports have never interested me, even when Papi was at the helm of the Millcreek soccer team, so my knowledge of Timothy beyond his name and status is limited.
From what I can tell, he’s equal parts talented and troublesome. And, apparently, Carla’s boyfriend.
They fit together well, even aside from their cheerleader and football player labels.
Like Kiki, Carla Gutierrez is the type of beautiful that skyrockets you to the top of the social pyramid.
With her thick, dark hair trailing down to her lower back and dewy light brown skin, she looks perfectly sun kissed in a town defined by its overcast skies.
I can’t remember the last time we had multiple days of sunshine in a row—even in summer—but you’d never guess it from the glow radiating off Carla.
She doesn’t seem bothered by the slight October chill either, dressed in a Guns N’ Roses crop top and cutoff shorts with a flannel tied around her waist. Together, she and Timothy look like the kind of couple girls like me long to be in.
The type whose photos you see splashed across manifestation boards because they have the perfect carefree teenage aesthetic.
Over Carla’s shoulder, Timothy’s eyes find mine, and he shoots me a lazy smile that makes my cheeks flush.
“Nice to meet you,” I say with a tight-lipped smile, unsure what to do.
Offering a hand to shake feels too formal and a wave feels too childish, so instead I shove my hands into the pockets of my sweater.
As Carla swings her legs off Timothy’s lap and crosses the room to the flatscreen, I realize I forgot to actually introduce myself.
They all know who you are, what you are, a voice that sounds unsettlingly like Mami’s whispers in my ear.
Before I can dwell on that thought, Carla flips the TV on and starts scrolling through the various streaming apps on the home screen.
“How scary are we thinking?” Carla asks as she opens up Netflix and navigates straight to the horror section.
“Actually scary, or so-cheesy-it’s-hilarious scary?
” She hovers between two options—one, a low-budget slasher about a killer ventriloquist dummy, and the other an experimental folk horror about a demon haunting an Austrian village.
“Actually scary,” Timothy says at the exact same moment Kiki says “cheesy.”
Kai and I stay quiet while Kiki and Timothy stare each other down. Kiki’s brow furrows, her glare so piercing I’d probably melt on the spot if it was directed at me. Timothy, though, just holds his hands up in surrender.
“Have it your way, wimp,” he says before pulling a joint and a lighter out of his pocket.
“Outside,” Kiki snaps before Timothy can flick the flame to life, snatching the joint out of the corner of his mouth. “We’re not getting grounded for a month because you decided to stink up the place.”
Kai nods in agreement as Timothy rolls his eyes before begrudgingly picking himself up off the couch. “Fine,” he mutters, waving his hand lazily as he trudges toward the sliding door leading to the back deck. He pauses, taking in Kai’s costume properly for the first time.
“Dude, weren’t you Spider-Man for Carla’s birthday party?”
Kai bristles at the question. I don’t have social media of my own—Mami didn’t allow it, and I count it a blessing after the Papi incident—but that hasn’t stopped me from checking in on my classmates.
I can vaguely remember shots of Kai in the background of the various photos Carla posted over the summer from her annual birthday costume party.
“When there’s another Black and Puerto Rican superhero then I’ll be them instead,” he replies defiantly, puffing his chest out slightly with pride.
Timothy brushes Kai off with a wave of his hand and murmurs a lazy “all good” before sauntering toward the sliding doors to the deck.
“Don’t wait for me. I’ve already seen this one anyway.” Timothy turns around, arms outstretched and the joint hanging from the corner of his mouth again as he announces, “Spoiler: it’s all a dream.”
“Go outside, asshole,” Kiki calls over her shoulder while Carla tosses a throw pillow at Timothy’s head in annoyance.
Kai shrugs as he flops onto the couch and picks up the remote from where Carla tossed it aside.
“Don’t worry, I know another one that’ll work.
” He navigates slightly down the page until he’s settled on something called Filomena’s Revenge.
The screen fills with a silent trailer for the movie, yet another low-budget slasher but this time with an army of knock-off Muppets.
“Twice the puppets, twice the gore, and three times the cheese,” Kai explains, hitting play once Kiki gives him a thumbs-up in approval, but pauses it as soon as the movie loads.
Kiki busies herself with pouring a new drink while Kai excuses himself to his room to change into something more casual.
“Make me one,” Carla calls out to Kiki as she crosses toward the deck. “I’ll be right back.” She slips out the sliding door and through the mesh and glass I can see her lean up against the deck railing, swipe the blunt out of Timothy’s mouth, and take a long drag.
Kiki rolls her eyes but obliges Carla’s request and pours enough tequila into a fresh cup to churn my stomach again.
“You want one?” Kiki asks, her gaze so vacant as she looks in my general direction that I wouldn’t be sure she was talking to me if I wasn’t the only person left in the room.
Kai returns before I can answer, having switched into a pair of sweats and a flannel in record time. Kiki swivels around to face him, making him the same offer with a lot more enthusiasm than she had for me.
“I’m good,” he says quickly before flopping onto the couch beside me, leaning in to lightly nudge his shoulder against mine. “It’s okay if you want some,” he whispers. “Or if you don’t. Either’s cool.”
Rosiness tints his cheeks as he shrugs and leans back against the couch, while Kiki waits impatiently for an answer.
The fact that I can make someone like him blush feels impossible.
So impossible that I peek over my shoulder at him to make sure I didn’t imagine it.
But there he is: hiding his flushed cheeks against the couch as he aimlessly plays with a loose thread on the throw pillow.
“No, thanks,” I tell Kiki. Even if the thought of alcohol didn’t make me feel uneasy, the last thing I need is the type of buzz that’ll make me sloppy. It’ll be easy enough for me to embarrass myself without the influence of alcohol.
Kiki shrugs before pouring the last of the bottle into her own cup, topping it with a mix of various sodas, and settling onto the opposite end of the couch from us.
Along the way she flicks off the last of the overhead lights, bathing the room in darkness before unpausing the movie.
If it weren’t for the glow from the TV, the room would be pitch-black—completely dark except for the distant glow of the string lights in the reflection of the sliding-glass door.
The thought of trying to find my way around in the middle of the night—looking for the bathroom or a glass of water from the kitchen in the dark—makes me swallow hard.
The movie starts in silence, opening on a serene shot of a quaint house on a secluded patch of forest—not unlike this one.
Even straining my ears there’s no sound to make out.
No distant grasshoppers or chirping birds.
No crunch of gravel and dirt as cars drive past. Not even murmured snippets of Timothy and Carla’s conversation on the deck.
All I can hear is my own unsteady breathing as I sink farther into the couch and wring my fingers together.
I’ve watched my fair share of horror movies, but they’ve never unsettled me this much before.
Then again, I’ve never been in a cabin in the middle of the woods with a bunch of strangers before, either.
Maybe it’s not the movie that has me so on edge.
Part of me hopes Kai will move closer. That he’ll notice my nervousness and wrap an arm around me or let me cower on his shoulder.
We both jump slightly as the calm opening scene is interrupted by a jump scare of a killer puppet lunging at a woman biking down a dirt path, but stay a careful, respectful distance apart.
“There’s no way that actually scared you,” Kiki taunts with a raised brow.
“Jump scares are cheap but effective,” Kai replies with a raised finger. “And I’m not too proud to admit they scare the shit out of me.”
I nod in agreement as Kiki scoffs and turns back to the screen. We settle back into silence as we focus on the movie, my heartbeat evening out once the scene shifts to a stereotypical high school setting.
But it doesn’t take long for the tension to creep back. Within minutes of introducing us to our lead, we find him alone in a darkened computer lab in search of his missing friend. The music quiets until we’re left with nothing but subtle violin shrieks, growing louder and louder until suddenly—
Someone sits down beside me.
“Chill, it’s just me,” Timothy says around a laugh when I let out a scream, holding his hands up in surrender.
My heart doesn’t calm even with his reassurance.
He’s slightly too close for comfort—the edge of his knee brushing against mine.
Close enough that the scent of earth and dry leaves overwhelms me—a scent I recognize from gym class, wafting out from behind the bleachers.
His eyes are half-lidded, and I can see the reddish tinge to the whites of them even in the dark.
His voice is softer, lazier as he settles back against the couch cushions and spreads his arms wide.
I shift a polite distance away from him, but unless I want to encroach on Kai’s space, there’s no way for me to get fully away from the expanse of Timothy’s arms. I settle back carefully, hovering just above the couch cushions to avoid having his fingertips brush against my shoulder.
“Where’s Carla?” Kiki asks as she peers back toward the deck.
Timothy shrugs, finally pulling his arm back to reach for a bag of Cheetos on the coffee table in front of us.
I quickly lean back and claim my spot while I can.
He pops the bag open and pours the Cheetos directly into his open mouth.
“Had to call her mom or something. She’ll be back in a second,” he says around a bite so huge I wouldn’t have thought it humanly possible.
Kiki wrinkles her nose while Kai shudders at the sight.
Timothy munches happily on his Cheetos while the rest of us turn back to the movie.
He finishes off most of the bag in just a few handfuls—orange dust staining his fingertips and the front of his shirt.
He leans toward the edge of the couch, keeping the all-white suede fabric of the cushions safe from the dust. Just as he leans back to settle in, Kiki shoots him yet another glare.
“Don’t even think about it,” she mutters, pointing to a stack of napkins on the coffee table.
Timothy groans like a punished toddler but heeds Kiki’s warning. After wiping off his fingertips he flops back onto the couch with a burp.
Any hopes I had that he’d settle somewhere farther away from me are crushed the second he leans back.
I do my best to get out of his path, but he still lands so close that his knee knocks against mine on the way down.
His palm winds up in the space between us, his pinkie finger close enough to brush the edge of my thigh.
My breath catches in my throat at the sudden closeness.
Unlike earlier with Kai, the oppressive scent and heat of him isn’t welcome in my space.
I resist the impulse to push him away. Clearly he’s not in his right mind.
He probably didn’t mean to sit so close to me—especially with his girlfriend coming back any second.
It’s absurd that I even thought it—that he sat next to me intentionally. That he wants to be close to me. Boys like him don’t creep up on girls like me. Don’t let their pinkies slide over toward them when they feel safe under the shroud of the dark.
I glance at Kai out of the corner of my eye, but he doesn’t seem to notice the closeness between me and Timothy.
It’s probably too dark for him to even see.
Kiki is occupied with her phone, and Timothy focuses on the movie as much as someone as high as he is can.
I consider excusing myself to the bathroom just to have a reason to leave when an earsplitting sound makes us all rocket up to attention.
Suddenly, something pounds against the back wall—close to the sliding door, followed quickly by that same sound again.
The sound, I realize with a gulp, of someone screaming.