Chapter 39 Marlene
Marlene
Name five things you can see.
An old sweater hanging above me, the fabric warm, red, and worn, with holes at the sleeves. Extra tote bags, also worn, cream and brown and navy. Slippers. Rolls of paper towels.
Light that pours in when the door opens.
When she tumbles out.
There’s a mirror across from the closet, tall with a gilded border, and I see myself.
I look like a wet dog. If Ma saw me like this, she’d probably ask: ?Te pasó un camión por encima?
My hair is flung all around my face, tangled and knotted.
The rain jacket and my hoodie are long gone, and the sweater I was wearing underneath is shredded.
Cuts crisscross my face and arms. I’m down to only one shoe.
And I’m covered in mud and blood. Even though I’m inside finally, it’s as if the air outside has followed me in.
There’s the tinge of metal to it that makes me want to gag.
Compared with Avery, who is clean and in a soft green sweatshirt, I look like something rabid. But she doesn’t hesitate. She flings herself forward, catching me in a tight hug.
The words tumble out of me, and my voice is raw and scraped clean through.
“He tried to kill me,” I sob, burying my face in her shoulder. “He tried to kill me. He was going to kill me.”
“It’s okay,” she says gently, looking wildly in Kaitlyn’s direction. Kaitlyn has also changed into a fresh, cream-colored sweatshirt and seems like she doesn’t want me here. Her eyes are huge, and she keeps looking from me to Ms. Dorman, who’s unconscious on the ground.
I stare at Ms. Dorman, her rosy cheeks and her chest moving up and down, and realize she’s not dead.
“He got her,” I tell them, each word a blubbering mess as I squeeze my eyes shut. “He came in through that back door, and I was hiding here in the closet. He got her, but then he heard me scream, and he must’ve run back outside.”
“How do you know that? Did you see it happen?” Kaitlyn asks, and I don’t miss the suspicion in her voice.
“There’s a keyhole,” I whisper, then point to the closet door. “I saw it all. And then I heard him run away.”
“Him?” Kaitlyn asks, standing straighter. “You saw him? The person who killed Javi?”
I wince, slightly extricating myself from Avery’s viselike hug to swipe at my eyes. So, they know about Javi. I take a breath, keeping my focus on Kaitlyn. I don’t miss the flash of anger that’s seized her features. She doesn’t do heartbreak, after all. Just revenge.
One of the first things I heard about Kaitlyn was that when her team lost at Nationals sophomore year, she did everything she could not only to get them back to the same spot junior year—but to crush their opponents.
Even after they had a comfortable lead, Kaitlyn didn’t stop scoring as hard as she could.
And when she nailed an opposing player in the face, breaking her nose, she kept going. She smiled.
“He’s tall,” I tell them. “He tried to strangle me. I barely got away.”
“Who’s tall?” Avery asks. “Who are you talking about?”
“The killer?” Kaitlyn asks. “Are they here? Where’d he go?”
I shake my head, gasp for air.
Kaitlyn moves to the back door, turning the lock before jiggling the handle. “It’s locked now. Should we check the other doors?”
“I think we should move back to the living room,” Avery says. “Be in a central location.”
She looks down at Ms. Dorman, bringing her thumb up to her mouth to worry the cuticle before realizing what she’s doing and dropping her hand.
We both follow her gaze to our teacher, still out cold on the floor.
I touch Ms. Dorman’s wrist, feeling the persistent thud of her pulse, knowing that she’s alive… But for how long?
“Ms. Dorman?” I ask. “Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
“Let’s move her to the couch,” Avery says. “Kaitlyn, can you help me lift her?”
Kaitlyn rolls her eyes but does, begrudgingly, move forward. Avery casts furtive glances back in the direction of the now-closed back door. Kaitlyn lifts Ms. Dorman by grabbing under her arms, while Avery gets her feet. Together, they carry her toward the living room, and I follow.
“He’s probably still out there,” I whisper. “He’s waiting. I’m sure—”
“Marlene, you’re inside now,” Avery says as we reach the couch. “It’s all right.”
Kaitlyn unceremoniously drops Ms. Dorman’s top half on the couch, leaving Avery holding on to her legs. She glares at Kaitlyn before trying to tuck them up onto the couch and then roll her onto her side, adjusting so she has a pillow under her head.
“Why bother?” Kaitlyn asks, checking her nails. “She’s probably a goner anyway.”
There’s that hardness. Javi’s death has made her even more dangerous.
“I don’t want her to choke on her tongue,” Avery says. I didn’t even think about that. Out of habit, I grab my phone to text my mom, but it’s gone, lost to the woods. I almost laugh, thinking about how mad Ma’s going to be—as if my lost phone is the worst of tonight’s problems.
“Right,” Avery says. “So we need a plan—”
Only, as she says the words, there’s a rumble throughout the house, a groan that freezes the three of us in place. It’s followed by a pop somewhere, and then—
The lights in the house go out, burying us in darkness.