Chapter 38
38
“Eve, that was...that was really wonderful,” says Ana, squeezing my shoulder.
I look up, wild-eyed, and try to compose myself. My improvised speech has already blurred and faded away. I can barely remember what I said. The only thing on my mind now is finding out where the golem has gone, and making sure he hasn’t done anything stupid.
“Thanks—thank you,” I say, rising and giving her a quick hug, looking over her shoulder as I do so, trying to still scan the room. Rosie is behind Ana, looking almost shy.
“I—Yeah,” Rosie says, taking a tentative step toward me. “What Ana said.”
Heart thudding so loud I can barely hear myself think, I give my little sister a quick hug, too. I know I should make more of this moment, but I can’t. All I can think about is the missing golem and the missing brides-man.
“Be right back,” I say. “Bathroom.”
I hastily bolt from the bridal table before either of them can say anything else. I make it into the cafetorium hallway, where I remember seeing the bathrooms. Thankfully, all the bathrooms have been designated gender neutral, so I’ll easily be able to check both without raising any eyebrows. I’m about to push the first door open when a hand lands on my shoulder.
I whirl around and find myself face-to-face with Layla.
Her dark eyes are shining, her lips trembling. My sister’s best friend shakes her head, like she’s trying to say something but can’t quite get it out, the words trapped somewhere between her mind and her mouth.
“I...” She clears her throat, then says, “I wanted to say—good job. With the speech.”
“Thanks,” I say, looking past her in case the golem rounds the corner. “Look, I really have to—”
“I haven’t known what to think, sometimes, but your words just now—they were really lovely. Especially that thing you said about memory being a blessing—”
“Yeah, uh-huh,” I say, completely distracted.
“It was so moving, I mean really—”
“Yep, it’s a good line,” I say, eyes darting everywhere in search of the golem, in search of Ethan, in search of any sign of trouble. “I mean, if you don’t have your memories, what’s the point, right?”
Layla looks stricken.
“Is that supposed to be funny?” she asks, eyes snapping with sudden fury. I don’t understand how the conversation took such a sharp turn, and I don’t have the time to figure out why this woman is suddenly getting in my face. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”
“Oh my God, Layla, I don’t know what your damage is, but I really have to go,” I snap, because while maybe under other circumstances I’d try to figure out how I accidentally ticked off my sister’s bestie, I don’t have time right now. The golem has been glowering at Ethan all night, and now they’re both gone, and the dread gnawing at my gut is too much to ignore.
I dart into the first bathroom, praying Layla doesn’t follow me inside.
She doesn’t.
I hastily check each stall, and they’re all empty. I burst back into the hallway, relieved that somehow Layla has already disappeared. I barrel into the second bathroom. Empty. My heart is banging against my ribs like a deranged woodpecker. Thinking fast, I remember that we were actually still in the theater when Ethan said he had to piss, so I take off at a dead run for the second set of gender-neutral bathrooms.
The first theater bathroom I barge into is empty, lights off, completely dark. The second one, when I open the door, greets me with buzzing fluorescent lights. The buzzing sound fills my ears, so loud I’m not even sure it’s just the lights anymore. My whole body is humming with fear because I don’t know what I’m going to find in here.
For one merciful moment, I think the answer might be nothing. It’s quiet. Still.
Then I hear a soft moan.
Terror clutching at my stomach, I push open the door of the accessible stall at the far end of the bathroom.
There, stretched face up across the toilet, is Ethan.
His face is purpled and swollen, blood dripping from his nose. His hand is holding his side, like he’s trying to keep himself from falling apart. I’m paralyzed with horror, seeing what the golem has done.
What I’ve done.
Ethan is so still that for a moment I’m afraid he’s dead, but then he takes a wheezing inhale, exhaling another low moan. The sound jolts me into action, and I lurch forward, putting a trembling hand on his forehead.
“You’re going to be okay,” I say.
“Eve,” he wheezes. “Your... boyfriend...”
“Don’t talk,” I say. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
I reach into my pants pocket, but there’s no phone there. With a sickening feeling, I suddenly remember shoving the phone into my coat pocket.
The coatroom.
“I’ll be right back, I swear,” I tell Ethan, who barely exhales in response.
I race to the coatroom. It’s empty when I get there—the coatroom attendant must be off shift, getting to enjoy the party with his friends. Blissfully unaware of the devastation in the theater bathroom, and the angry monster on the loose.
My angry monster.
I paw at rack after rack, finally finding my coat, jamming my hand into the pocket and pulling out my phone. My fingers are shaking so hard I barely manage to turn it on. I hit Send on the emergency call.
It doesn’t go through.
No!
Reeling, I vaguely recall guests lightheartedly complaining about the terrible cell service out at camp. I hold the phone in the air, divining for signal, and hit the emergency call button again. This time, miraculously, the call goes through.
“911, what’s your—”
“Someone’s been attacked,” I say. “He’s hurt, badly, we need an ambulance—”
“Slow down, ma’am. Where are you located?”
“Camp Heller-Diamond,” I say. “Off exit thirty-six—”
“One moment, let me call up your location... Okay, ma’am, it’s going to take about half an hour for us to get an ambulance out that way.”
Shit.
“Please just get someone here as fast as you can!” I scream, then run at breakneck speed back toward the tayatron bathroom. I don’t want Ethan to be alone for the half hour it’s going to take for help to arrive. He might be a low-grade schmuck, but he didn’t deserve to be brutalized like this. I have to wait with him until—
A shriek from the cafetorium stops me in my tracks.
For one impossibly long moment, I stand frozen in the cold, empty theater. A few yards to my left, Ethan is in the bathroom stall, bleeding and broken. The cafetorium is one building over, to my right. And somewhere out there is the golem, possibly wreaking havoc, all because of me and my selfish choices.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know which way to go. Every choice I’ve ever made has been the wrong one. I don’t trust myself. I don’t trust anyone.
Then there’s a second scream from the cafetorium, and my heart ceases its beating, because I recognize the screamer. She had the same shrill shriek when we were children and she was scared or angry.
Rosie.
I turn and race toward the wedding party.
When I burst back into the cafetorium, the whole room is abuzz. There’s more confusion than fear, as everyone looks around to see where the screams are coming from. The anxiety in the air is palpable, but it’s tempered with the hesitation that often talks our potential hysteria off the ledge.
Maybe everything is okay.
Maybe it’s just a kid screwing around.
Maybe it’s some kind of joke.
But Ana is standing up behind the bridal table, eyes darting all across the room. My mother is standing beside her, trying to calm her down, although she looks stricken herself. Rosie isn’t with them.
“Rosie,” Ana says, panic choking her voice. “Where’s Rosie? I heard her screaming, but I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”
I run over to Ana and my mother. All of our heads are swiveling, eyes searching, looking for any clue as to what’s going on. That’s when I notice something strange. There’s a smaller secondary stage at the rear of the cafetorium, right by the entrance to the kitchen. It must be something the summer camp uses for small services or song sessions.
The guy from the coatroom is standing on the platform.
He’s holding something in each of his hands. The object in his left hand I quickly identify as a cell phone. I can’t tell what the other thing is, because the right sleeve of his ill-fitting black sweatshirt is hanging over it, past his slim wrist. Whatever it is, he’s using it to beckon someone from the kitchen.
“What the hell is the coatroom guy doing up there?” I ask.
“What coatroom guy?” Ana replies, utterly bewildered.
That’s when Rosie stumbles from the kitchen, terrified.
Even from all the way across the cafetorium, I can see the thick streaks of mascara running down her cheeks like polluted rivers. Her face is contorted with fear, and she has her hands up, and edges forward slowly, like someone is beckoning her toward someplace she doesn’t want to go.
Ana screams.
The coatroom guy turns to face us, and I go rigid with horror.
Because the object in his right hand is a gun, and it’s pointed at my sister.