Girl on the Verge

by Pintip Dunn

  Rage turns to fear. Sweat pops out on my neck, and my knees begin to knock against each other. Oh, god. That’s why she was so willing to confess. That’s why she gave me my phone back. She wants to see my reaction. She wants me to know everything she did. She wants me to hurt the way she thinks she’s been hurt.

  And now, she’s going to kill me.

  “You murdered my best friend,” I say, as much to myself as to her.

  “Ex-best friend. You had a new one,” she says fiercely. “But you didn’t treat her right. I don’t want to kill you, Kan. I hadn’t even planned on killing Ash. Believe me, it was a scramble to drag her body to the Dumpster, to set everything up without anyone seeing me. I only wanted to distance you from her and that whole group of girls. I could see how terrible they were for you. They weren’t real friends. But you refused to see that. That’s your worst quality, you know. Your biggest failing as my friend: You don’t trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” I say. Keep her talking. Oh god, just keep her talking, so she doesn’t pull the trigger. “I swear, Shelly. I’ve learned my lesson. I know now you’re my only true friend.”

  She advances toward me, not caring, and I grasp wildly for another topic. “Wait, Shelly. Tell me first. Where’s Ethan?”

  She stops. “You mean, our boyfriend? He’s under my care now.”

  Perspiration drips down my back, and my chest feels like it’s about to explode. “What have you done with him?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt him—not permanently, anyway. I mean, he is our boyfriend. Can’t have him not functioning at full strength.”

  “Stop saying that!” The words slip out, even as I tell myself I shouldn’t be making her mad. “He’s not your boyfriend. He’s mine.”

  She brings her arm up, as if to get a better aim at me. “We’re sisters. Sisters share everything.”

  I swallow hard. “You’re right. We are sisters. That’s why I’m going to help you.”

  “What?”

  This might be the most important argument of my life. If I can’t persuade her, I’ll never see Ethan again. Never see Khun Yai, never see my mom. My life, everyone I know and love—gone.

  “You don’t know anything about Ethan,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “You don’t know what he likes, what he doesn’t like. You’ve said it yourself. Boys are impossible to decipher. If we’re truly sisters, you can talk things over with me. We’ll figure it out together.”

  She lowers the gun a fraction of an inch, and I rush on. “I made a mistake, Shelly. I didn’t value you the way that you deserved. Give me another chance. We can go back to the way we used to be. When it was just the two of us against the world.”

  She tilts her head to the side. “Who will take the fall for Ash’s death, then? My fingerprints are on that paperweight, too. I didn’t have time to put on gloves like normal.”

  A kernel of hope sprouts in my stomach. She’s considering it. She’s actually considering it. “It doesn’t matter. If they can’t find us, they won’t be able to arrest us. And we can still be together.”

  She steps forward, her eyes glittering. “Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I’ve ever been.”

  Her arm arcs through the air, with the heavy metal gun.

  Uh oh, I have time to think. Maybe this was the wrong decision.

  And then, the gun connects with my cheek, and everything goes black.

  Chapter 43

  When I wake, I’m sitting in a chair—one that’s heavy, wooden, and difficult to move. My hands and feet are cuffed, and a piece of duct tape is plastered over my mouth.

  What the hell? I yank my hands against the cuffs. There’s very little give, and the metal bites into my skin. The room is dim, but I can tell I’m in a living room inside what looks like a cabin. Bookcases line the wall, and I’m next to a threadbare sofa and an old TV. The eaves slant low, and the decor is dark and muted.

  Soft music plays, and I hear the clink of silverware. Huh? Where am I?

  I crane my neck, shifting my body weight to one side so that the chair tilts up on two legs. Ah, now I can see into the next room. Tall white candles. A crystal vase filled with blooming pink roses. And Shelly and Ethan sitting at the dining table, eating off beautiful gold-rimmed plates. It’s the very image of a romantic dinner. Except for one thing.

  One of Ethan’s hands is restrained, and a metal chain leads from the handcuff to the floorboard. The chain is so long it’s coiled on the floor.

  Shelly is wearing one of my favorite dresses, an outfit I made for homecoming the previous fall. The skirt is short and flouncy, and white feathers cover the entire torso. Her hair is piled messily on top of her head, and she wears a pair of my chandelier earrings. She swings her head, and the earrings swish against her shoulders.

  The back of Ethan’s chair blocks my view of his clothes, but I catch a glimpse of his bare shoulder.

  “How do you like the food?” Shelly asks, her voice soft and solicitous.

  “It’s fine,” Ethan answers shortly.

  “You’re not eating much. Here, let me help you with this escargot. I know they’re snails, but they’re actually really delicious.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Would you change your mind if you knew this was your last meal for two days?” she asks mildly. They stare at each other for a long second. And then, he picks up the fork with his free hand and shoves a bite into his mouth.

  “That’s better. You should be more grateful for this meal,” she says. “It’s not easy to find French food in Kansas, you know.”

  That’s when I notice the rest of the food on the table. A bowl of hot onion soup, with cheese melted over the edges. A thick slice of pâté. Shredded carrot salad with crusty French bread.

  My heart lurches. The tall candles, the fancy china, French food. Oh dear god. Shelly’s enacting her dream date. With my boyfriend. While he’s cuffed.

  I lean a little too far, losing my balance. The chair tips over, and I crash to the floor. OW. Black stars dance in my vision, and when they finally clear, both Ethan and Shelly are looking at me.

  “Kan! Are you okay?” A bare-chested Ethan tries to pick me up with one hand, but the chain, as long as it is, pulls taut behind him, and he can’t get a good grip. No wonder Shelly restrained him this way. He has some freedom of movement, but he can’t get very far. “Are you hurt?”

  “Hhhmmmmph,” I say, through the duct tape over my mouth.

  “She’s fine,” Shelly says. I can almost hear the roll in her eyes. She stalks over and heaves me and the chair back upright. “Now can we please get back to our date?”

  “She might be hurt.” He crouches in front of me, cupping my face. His eyes are deep, brilliant, and blue, a bottomless pool into which I’d like to jump and disappear. It’s only been a short while since I’ve seen him, but it feels like an eternity.

  “You’re okay,” he says, his voice weak with relief. “Oh, Kan, I thought I’d never see you again.”

  You, too. My hands are bound, my mouth is taped shut, but I tell him with my eyes how much I miss him. How very glad I am that he’s still alive.

  Our reunion is short-lived. Shelly steps forward, tugging his arm. “Come on, Ethan,” she whines. “Our food is getting cold.”

  He straightens, and my eyes fasten onto the hard muscles of his chest.

  He sees me looking and jerks his head in Shelly’s direction. “She wouldn’t let me wear a shirt.”

  “It’s my date,” she says. “I get to decide what we wear. And when we eat. Which is now. Come. On.”

  “No.” Ethan peers at my temple, where I begin to feel a nasty throbbing. “She needs ice,” he says in a strained voice. “She might have a concussion. We need to get her out of those restraints and keep an eye on her.”

  In response, she strides across the room and takes a black metal object from the top of the bookcase. “You don’t get to call the shots, Ethan. I do. I like you, but don’t make
me regret giving you a little freedom.”

  My eyes widen. Not a gun this time. The object is blunter and more square. A Taser? Where the hell is Shelly getting all these weapons? Apparently, she has way more resources than I realized.

  “I have to say, Ethan, our date’s just started, and so far, it’s not even close to measuring up to my dreams. You’d better try harder.” She pushes the Taser into his ribs, although as far as I can tell, the weapon is still off.

  “No.” He sets his jaw. “Unlock Kan first. She’s not comfortable like this. She needs food and water. She should sit at the table with us.”

  “You wish,” she hisses, and the earrings bounce wildly. “This is a date, or have you forgotten?”

  “I wish I could forget,” he mutters.

  Her mouth drops, and for an instant, I glimpse the girl I thought I knew. The girl who’s been excluded all of her life, the one who doesn’t belong and maybe never will.

  And then, the mask shifts back into place.

  “You are my date tonight, Ethan,” she bites out. “And you will treat me with courtesy and respect—”

  “Not a chance,” he says stubbornly, loudly. “I don’t care about you. Only her. Never you.”

  She steps around him, and the electric hum of the Taser suddenly fills my ears. She’s turned it on. Before I can comprehend what she’s planning, she thrusts the weapon into my stomach. My nerves explode. They rip into a million pieces and fall onto the floor like shredded confetti. I forget my name, forget where I am, forget everything. There is only pain. Deep, overwhelming, never-ending pain.

  When I come back to myself, I’m panting and drenched in sweat. Ethan cradles me with one arm. The chain to which he’s attached is pulled in a rigid line. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry, Kan. So sorry. Please be okay.”

  “That’s for disrespecting me,” Shelly says, her arms crossed. “You seem to be having a hard time being nice to me, Ethan. Maybe this will motivate you. Every time you make me unhappy, I take it out on Kan. Is that clear?”

  His face crumples. He squeezes me for a brief, hard moment. And then he straightens and faces her. “Very.”

  “Good.” She approaches him slowly and splays both her hands on his chest. Fondling him.

  I struggle against the restraints, so hard that the chair rocks back and forth. I want to bat her hands away. I want to scratch her eyes out. I want to do anything and everything to make us not be here, in this situation, under Shelly’s control.

  But I’m helpless. And so is Ethan.

  He takes a deep breath and holds himself perfectly, absolutely still. “It’s okay.” I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or himself. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s going to be more than okay,” she purrs. “I could do this all night. And I will. I bought a bearskin rug just for this occasion, and we’re going to snuggle on it, in front of the fire. We’ll reenact some of our texts. But first, we’re going to eat.”

  She loops his chain over her shoulder, and he turns his head to me. He doesn’t look helpless at all. In fact, he looks . . . determined. “I love you,” he mouths.

  Maybe it’s too much, too soon. Maybe we’ve only known each other for a few short weeks; maybe we’ve only hung out a few times. But in this moment, in this situation, nothing else feels more true.

  I look into his eyes—and hope he understands that I love him, too.

  Chapter 44

  They last a few minutes at dinner, and then Shelly slams her fork against the table. “This is ridiculous!” she explodes.

  Moments later, she’s back in front of me. Huffing out a breath, she bends and unlocks the cuffs around my hands and feet.

  My heart leaps. Is she letting me go?

  “Don’t get too excited.” She pulls me up by my hair and drags me across the room, the Taser pressed against my ribs. “You’re not leaving this cabin. But I can’t have you in this room. You’re too distracting, and I need Ethan’s undivided attention.”

  She shoves me into a bedroom and forces me onto the mattress. I roll over and kick out with my legs, but she’s too fast for me. The Taser hums alive, and the next thing I know, an electric current zips through my body, frying every cell. I swear even my hair is singed. By the time I can string two words together again, I’m cuffed to the wooden headboard. At least this time, I’m only bound by one limb instead of four.

  She rips the duct tape from my mouth. OW. If I had any energy left, I might’ve screamed. But all I can manage is a whimper.

  She’ll leave me now. She’ll go back to her date, and I can hunt for the pieces of my body and try to put them back together.

  But she doesn’t leave. Instead, she paces across the maroon rug that’s covering the hardwood floor. “You have to help me, Kan.” She pushes her hand into her hair, messing up the already messy bun. It goes from artfully disheveled to knocked-around disaster. “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. He’s just not interested in me.”

  I blink. Oh god. She actually believed me. She actually thinks I’m going to help her seduce my boyfriend.

  “Maybe you could try a different outfit.” My voice is hoarse, either from disuse or from all the screaming I’ve been doing in my mind. “Or, I don’t know, a different eyeliner?”

  She bares her teeth. “That’s the best advice you have?”

  “I’ll keep thinking,” I say, trying my best to keep the sarcasm from leaking into my voice. “If I come up with anything, you’ll be the first to know.”

  She looks at me for a long moment, and I wonder if she’s going to grab her gun, after all. But then, she sighs and kneels in front of me. “In the bigger scheme of things, he means nothing. I would never let a boy come between us. You know that. Eventually, we’ll dump him and take off to begin our new lives. Just imagine, Kan. You’ll no longer be restricted by Khun Yai’s expectations. By the judgments of the kids at school. You’ll be able to create your own identity. Be the person you were meant to be. With me by your side. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

  She wants to rip me from my life—my family, my friends—so that I can live an existence like hers? Drifting around, stealing other people’s identities? Um, no thanks. I may be caught between worlds, I may not know where I belong, but I have people who love me. Maybe they’re not perfect, maybe they can never understand the two warring sides of me. But they love me.

  “If Ethan doesn’t matter,” I say carefully, “then why do you want to seduce him?”

  “Because, Kan, for just a little while, I want to know how it feels to be cherished and loved. I want, for once in my life, to have one of my dreams come true. No, not just come true. I want it to be better than anything I’ve ever imagined.”

  She sits on the floor and wraps her arms around her knees. “I had sex at the frat party—but that’s not enough. That was just a throwaway physical sensation. I want passion and romance. I need to know how it feels. Don’t you want that for me? You said you wanted to make it up to me. Well, this is your chance.” She’s pleading with me now, and for an instant the old protective instinct rises up inside me. The instinct that wants to pick up this girl and cradle her, to soothe away her hurts, to ease her pain. Just as quickly, the feeling evaporates, as though it never existed.

  “I do want that for you, Shelly,” I say quietly. “But not like this.”

  “This is the only way I know.” She stands, her expression tight, and leaves.

  Damn it. Frantically, I scan the room. My heart jitters in my chest, but my mind is focused. As determined as Ethan. If there’s a way to get us out of here, I’m going to find it. I won’t let these hours cuffed to this bed be the last of my life.

  Unfortunately, there’s remarkably little inside this room. A decrepit desk with drawers. The wooden bed to which I’m cuffed. The rug on the floor. And that’s it. No picture frames, no knickknacks. No books or plants. Certainly not a rock-shaped paperweight that I can use as a weapon.

  I slide off the bed and strain, and I can just
reach the desk. I open the drawers, but they’ve been emptied, cleaned out with a chemical with a faint lemony scent. I’m about to slam the last drawer shut when something catches my eye. An inscription on the side of the drawer, scrawled in permanent marker, in childish handwriting. Leesa was here.

  My mind whirls. Leesa. That was Riley’s mother, right? This desk must’ve belonged to her, or at least to her family, when she was a kid. So what is it doing here? Mrs. Watson’s words drift through my mind. Sheila said they had a home base somewhere, a cabin on a nearby lake.

  So, that’s where we are, then. In Riley’s mother’s old cabin. The question is: Where is Riley?

  No freaking clue. Sighing, I close the drawer and look around. Where else can I search?

  Twisting around, I lie on my stomach on the mattress, so that I can reach under the bed with my free hand.

  Some old pillows. Great. Absolutely useless, unless I think I can overpower Shelly and her weapons and smother her. A bunch of dust bunnies. Ha. Maybe I can toss them in her face and make her sneeze. I’m accumulating some really powerful tools here.

  I run my fingers along the underside of the bed. It feels smooth and polished, so at least I won’t get splinters. But there’s nothing out of the ordinary. I’m about to give up when my hand snags on a ledge. I pause, my eyes wide. This isn’t a ledge. Something’s carved under here.

  Notches. The kind you get by pushing a fingernail into soft wood. As if someone were keeping track of the number of days they were kept in here. Someone like . . . Riley.

  I begin shaking. I might be wrong. All I have to go on is a bunch of notches. But somehow, in the pit of my stomach, I know I am dead right.

  Before me, Shelly locked someone else in this room. Her former best friend, Riley.

  Chapter 45

  My hand goes numb. My shoulder aches. No matter how I twist and turn, I can’t get comfortable. I don’t know how I’m going to last one day in here.