Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Isit at the center of the quiet stage with my feet dangling off the edge.
There are only two options for me: I either revitalize my love of performing or mourn it once and for all.
Professor Connolly wasn’t as dramatic during our conversation, of course, but it’s a matter of principle.
A life of mediocrity isn’t an option for me.
But… she was right.
I haven’t been able to put my heart into performing lately, and I can’t pretend otherwise. Everyone on campus thinks the murders will end now that Amelia is gone, but I know they won’t.
It will happen again. And again.
At last, I understand Tobey and their all-too-erratic nature—damn them.
We’re surrounded by people who are ignorant about the murders, and if no one else will fight for the truth, we will.
Tobey spent last year feeling like they were screaming into a void, begging anyone to see the world as they do.
Well, they have me now, and I’m determined to stay by their side, no matter how bleak the position is.
That may require giving up my dreams, and I don’t want to. It’s unfair. Why must I be burdened with knowledge while others prance around campus, free of the stressors of life and death?
Just when I think my day can’t get any drearier, Jun approaches. Of course, he’s here; this semester’s play rests on his broad shoulders.
He pushes his long, black hair out of his face and fixes me with a disgruntled look. His dark jeans and leather jacket perfectly pull together his wannabe bad-boy aesthetic, but no matter how much effort he puts into looking effortless, I find him unimpressive.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he says. “Are you practicing your three lines already?”
His voice is rough, even when he doesn’t mean for it to be, and I’ll admit the gravel in his tone makes him far more attractive than he has any right to be. I would never say it aloud, of course, and I don’t need to. He gets enough compliments from his many adoring fans around campus.
Adding to his massive ego is not on my agenda.
“No.” I cross one leg over the other. “Not practicing just yet. I was having a moment of peace until you interrupted it.”
“This isn’t the best place to do that.”
“Sure, it is. It’s not as if you need to practice on the stage.” I roll my eyes. “You can go somewhere else. Ta-ta.”
“I need more practice than you do.”
“Strange way of admitting you’re a talentless hack.” I jump from the stage in a smooth motion, prowling closer.
He and I met in our freshman year. At first, we were mere acquaintances, but as we worked together more, tensions rose.
Strode has the best supernatural theater program in the country, and with Jun constantly picking at my performances—and me doing the same—we began to view one another as competition rather than collaboration.
Somewhere along the lines, it twisted into our current rivalry, and it’s not the friendly sort.
No, the way he looks at me is anything but affable. Venom flashes behind his crimson gaze.
“Lashing out at me won’t get you a better part,” he says. “The only way you can do that is with a time machine.”
“There will be other plays. Professor Connolly is giving someone else a chance, that’s all. She’s a charitable woman.”
But I won’t be around for many future performances. Nor will Jun, unless he’s a worse student than I assume him to be. Next year is my last at Strode. We’ll both be able to move on, to star in plays during our immortal life—until the mortals grow bored of us, I suppose. I should be excited, but…
I’m not. I’m not ready.
He lifts a brow. “Is that so?”
“It is. That’s exactly what she told me.”
Desperation to remain on top of our little game leads me to tell such silly lies.
“Maybe if you spent more time on your craft and wasted less time being a third wheel for your friend, you would have a better part.”
I step closer, my eyes narrowing. “Do you really want to talk about friends?”
He flinches. “Watch it.”
“You’re the one who was best friends with the killer.”
Tobey might do something crazy, like assume Jun is on Amelia’s side, but I’m not Tobey. I know Jun, even if I’m not fond of him. I’ve shared a stage with him. There’s no way he’s the killer... even if the two of them seemed quite cozy at the end.
That seemed to be Amelia’s game. Make a friend and kill them. For all I know, he was next on her list.
I believe I’ve disarmed him, but I don’t feel any triumph. Reminding him of his late friend is a low blow.
Jun averts his gaze in favor of a spot on the floor. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I should back down. But I won’t.
“You don’t have the best taste in friends.”
“And?”
“Forgive me for not wanting your advice on the matter.”
“You’re not forgiven.”
“Oh, no.” I gasp. “Whatever shall I do without the forgiveness of the great Jun-seong Park?”
His expression goes flat. “Continue suffering, I hope.”
In perfect timing, Tobey and Caldwell approach. There’s a camera in Tobey’s hand and a smile on her face as she meanders toward us.
“See anything suspicious?” she asks, shoving the camera into my face.
Her dark French bob has been made messy by the windy day, her blunt bangs in different directions, framing earnest brown eyes. The rest of her is utterly perfect: brown-checkered pants, covered by a matching cardigan.
I am grateful to have my friendship with Tobey, and we’re stronger than ever, but she’s annoying now that she’s working on her little Strode documentary. Or maybe I’m just not in the mood. I love acting, but reality television has never been a dream of mine.
“As much as the camera loves me”—I gently push it away—“I don’t want it in my face right now.”
Capturing my guilt and disappointment on camera doesn’t sound glamorous. I give Jun a brief, wary glance. Not only is Tobey trying to film my misery, but she’s talking about the documentary in front of Jun, who knows nothing about what we’re doing.
All he knows—all anyone on campus knows—is that we stopped Amelia. The murderer. Would they believe us about the rest? That there may be more people waiting to kill, for reasons we still haven’t discovered?
“But—” Tobey starts.
“There’s nothing suspicious here,” I say. “That’s all.”
Jun holds his head higher, the pained look slipping off his face as if it were never there.
“Sorry.” Tobey passes the camera to her dutiful boyfriend—Caldwell.
Caldwell and I are friends now, I think. There’s no reason for me to mistrust him anymore, and as long as he doesn’t hurt Tobey, I suppose I don’t have any complaints. But I’m always keeping my eye on him, as I would anyone Tobey dates, and I make sure he knows it.
“We should go now.” Caldwell gives me a pointed look. “We only have an hour for lunch.”
Right. I have plans with them, but I’m not happy about it. Not anymore. Nothing can make me happy now that my dreams are dying, and Jun has put me in a particularly foul mood.
He’s smiling, as smug as ever.
It’s as if I can read his thoughts: there you go, being a third wheel again.
“I’m sure you were just about to go,” Jun says.
“Yes.” I lift my head higher, tossing my hair over my shoulder. “I was actually, and I am. Goodbye.”
I don’t honor Jun with another glance before leaving, with Caldwell and Tobey following closely behind.
Caldwell tightens his scarf around his neck as we step into the crisp late October afternoon.
His curly brown hair is neatly styled, his outfits are well-ironed, and his mismatched blue and green eyes give him a certain mystery.
I suppose that’s what attracted Tobey in the start, even though we were investigating him.
“Are you okay?” Tobey asks, speed-walking to catch up to me.
“No,” I exclaim.
“What happened?”
“My audition was horrible, apparently.” It hurts to admit it aloud, bloody tears pricking at my eyes. I roll my eyes up, fighting off the urge to cry. “I let Professor Connolly down, and worse—I did badly enough to get a role with only three lines. It’s the worst I’ve ever had at Strode.”
“There are no small parts,” Caldwell says. “Isn’t that what they say?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. This one feels positively minuscule.”
“It’s one play, not the end of your career.” Tobey rubs my back. “You’ll see. By the time the next one comes around, we’ll have the mystery solved, and you can pour your all into your art again. We all can.”
What if it’s never solved? It feels like a real possibility, considering we haven’t found a clue since Amelia died—since we drove a stake through her undead heart. I keep my worries to myself.
“There is one silver lining,” I say.
“And what is that?” Caldwell asks.
“I won’t have to act alongside that dreaded man.” I stomp forward, walking several steps ahead of them, my feet crunching in rotting leaves.
I usually enjoy spending time with Tobey and Caldwell.
I won’t complain if Caldwell disappears at any given time, but his presence is acceptable, and he makes Tobey happy.
Jun is the one to ruin it all, of course, haunting me even though he’s no longer here.
We’re sitting at our favorite café, enjoying our usual meals, but I can’t shake Jun’s words from my head.
Even the strong scent of espresso and sourdough can’t perk me up.
Being a third wheel to Tobey is unfamiliar, considering that they’re often single, and I’m generally not. I’m happy for them. I’ve never been happier for anyone, and Caldwell not being a cold-blooded killer? Wonderful. Consider me shocked and overjoyed.
But I’m afraid there’s more to it than joy.
As I sip on my lavender oat milk latte, my stomach sinks with a feeling I know well. It’s the same one I feel for Charlotte. Some know it as envy, though I hate to admit it.
I haven’t dated since Amelia’s death.
My therapist says it’s healthy to have some time to myself after everything I’ve been through, but…
I’m not sure if she would think it’s healthy to want to gouge my best friend’s eyes out. Or at least, I want to run away and avoid watching them act like this.
Tobey smiles at Caldwell, recording him on their camera.
“Have you seen any recent kills?” Tobey asks.
It’s a somber question, but their voice has a hint of glee.
They’re just… happy to be around each other. When will I have that? Even my past relationships, as fleeting as they were, were nothing like what they share. Like what my parents share.
They all make me sick.
Without looking at the camera, Caldwell lifts his coffee to his lips.“Stop willing that into existence.”
“I’m not willing anything into existence.” Tobey finally sets their camera down. They focus on their plate of food, popping a fry into their mouth. “But I’m nervous. Strode University has been quiet for too long.”
“It was always quiet before you arrived,” I mutter, though it seems like they’re not listening.
“I believe this is what they call the calm before the storm,” Caldwell says.
They’re seated on the opposite side of the booth from me, with no space between them. Shoulders brushing, practically melding into one person.
I barely exist to them. The conversation isn’t romantic, but they don’t bother looking my way.
I roll my eyes. “Can we please talk about something other than death and decay?”
Tobey’s head snaps in my direction. “This is a pretty major topic. Whoever was on that screen, wearing that bird mask… they promised us it’s not the end, and everyone else let their guard down. But we don’t have to.”
“And we shouldn’t,” Caldwell says, pushing his round glasses up his nose.
Of course, they’re tag-teaming me.
“What if I want to?” I look down at my plate. “Perhaps we should alert the authorities and be done with it.”
It’s been a month now—a month of focusing on murders and waiting for the next one—but it’s been longer in reality. I spent the entire summer mourning Poppy. When, oh when, can I focus on something other than loss?
There’s a rut, we’re stuck in it, and I’m the only one who wants to get out.
“What are you talking about?” Tobey leans in, their brow furrowing under their straight-across bangs. “This isn’t something we can ignore. I thought we were over pretending everything is fine.”
“I thought so, too. You’re right. I don’t want to go back to that.”
“Then don’t.”
“This is impacting my school work now. My performance. The Tobey I know would understand.”
“I understand…” Tobey exchanges a look with Caldwell as if silently asking for his help.
“We both understand,” Caldwell says, putting care behind his words.
Somehow, this is the last straw.
Even when I need comfort, they’re offering solace together. That isn’t so terrible by itself, but in this case, it leaves me on the other side of the table, begging for someone to see me. I’m out of place, even with my oldest living friend.
“Don’t do that.” I groan loud enough to turn heads. “Stop making me feel like a third wheel.”
Caldwell’s eyes widen. “That was not our intention.”
And I know that, but Jun. His ridiculous words are stuck in my equally absurd mind.
“Ignore her,” Tobey mumbles. “She’s being unfair.”
“Am I?” I stand up, shoving my phone into my purse. “You won’t even talk to me. You’re talking about me when I’m sitting right here.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand where this is coming from. Do you want to sit down? We can talk about it some more.”
“No.” I let out a short laugh, stepping away. “You two can keep talking to each other about ghosts, kills, and the other things you adore. I’ll see you tonight, if you even decide to return to our dormitory.”
I’m being unfair. Before Tobey and Caldwell began their relationship, there were nights when I disappeared with one of my dates, leaving Tobey alone in our shared dormitory.
It doesn’t matter; it has nothing to do with them.
I’m still heartbroken over losing the part in the play and what that may mean for my future career.
I need a moment away from the happy couple, some time to focus on myself. That’s all.