Game of Fear

by Kabongo, Glede Browne

  I read the first sentence of the letter, then the second. I read it again. Excitement starts to build in every cell in my body. I want to scream with abandon, but, instead, I start weeping. I’m overwhelmed with relief. I got in. They accepted me.

  I leave my room and walk down the hallway that leads to the stairs. I slide down the banister, yelling for my mother. She appears at the bottom of the stairs, looking tense.

  “What is it? Why are you yelling?”

  I don’t answer. I grab her arm and pull her up the stairs and into my room.

  “Look,” I tell her, gesturing to the laptop.

  She leans in closer and reads the message. She pulls me into a crushing embrace, but I don’t mind. We don’t say anything, content to absorb the moment.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she says.

  “I know.”

  We release each other, and Mom’s already thinking ahead of me. “We should celebrate, you know.”

  “This is just the first one, Mom.”

  “You’re right. Were there any others in your inbox?”

  “Oh. I haven’t checked yet. Brown was at the top.”

  “Why don’t you check the others too?”

  I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and get to work.

  Decisions from Duke and Johns-Hopkins came in earlier, mixed in between all my other, mostly junk emails. I can’t handle the stress, so I give Mom the username and password to the application status portals for all the schools.

  “You check them out,” I say to her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’ll just sit on my bed.”

  The clock on the wall is ticking loudly. I’ve never noticed that before, or perhaps my anxiety has amplified the volume. Mom has been clicking away at the computer for what feels like forever, but I’m sure it’s only been a minute. Yet, I’m ready to burst out of my skin. After what seems like an agonizing eternity, she stands up and announces, “I need a drink.”

  The earlier thrill of getting into Brown disappears like someone who fell into quicksand. It doesn’t make sense. I was sure I would get into Duke and Johns-Hopkins. Mom attended both schools, and she’s an active alumni. The rejection stings.

  “Sorry,” I whisper.

  “Why should you be sorry? I need a drink. The oldest and most expensive wine we have in the cellar. No. This calls for champagne.”

  She’s pacing like I was moments earlier, mumbling to herself.

  “I got in?”

  My heart begins to soar. Mom ignores me and continues her rant.

  “First, I have to call your father. No, wait, he’s about to head into a lecture. I’ll text him instead. Oh, there’s so much to do. I have to call both your grandmothers and your Uncle Michael. Oh, I can hardly stand it. My baby….”

  I don’t hear the rest of her sentence. I get my butt off the bed and look at the open acceptance letter from Duke. I can’t stop beaming. I close out the Duke letter and pull up the second screen to read the Johns-Hopkins acceptance. Soon, I’ll hear from Cornell and Yale. I sit still, just taking it all in.

  CHAPTER 37

  Three days later, I turn eighteen, but I want no big fuss or special treatment—only to spend time with the people I love. The good news bus rolled into town, and it isn’t going anywhere. I got accepted into Cornell, too. My guidance counselor, Ms. Morris, said she was proud of me. Teachers, administrators, friends and haters alike have all congratulated me. Frances got into her first choice college, Northwestern University. And Callie? She’ll be heading off to the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York this fall. As for Christian and Trevor, they did just fine too. Later in the evening, we’ll celebrate my birthday and getting into college.

  A FedEx package arrived for me while I was at school. Mom stashed it on the sofa in my bedroom. I dump the box on the bed, and then rip it open. Inside is another box with a pink bottom, white top, and a giant, pink ribbon holding the pieces together. I untie the ribbon and peek inside. I don’t bother to read the card first. I want to get to my present. This is going to be a good one. I pull back the delicate pink tissue and remove the item from the box.

  My jaw drops. It’s a stunning pink Indian saree made of silk with a floral design. The edge of the wrap and bottom of the skirt are finished off with tightly-woven gold embroidery stitching. Wow! Ty must have enlisted the help of his dad’s younger sister to get this made. She still wears the traditional Indian garb, even though she tends to favor Western-style dress. I remove the card from its envelope. Ty always keeps it simple with his written notes.

  Saw a sketch for this and thought you should have it.

  Happy birthday, my princess.

  Ty

  How strange. Ty always calls me Cooper. What is this new thing? He said he couldn’t make the celebration but wouldn’t miss my graduation. I take a photo of the note and text it to my girls to see what they think.

  “Mom, no one can eat this much food. There are only nine of us here. Where do you think we’re going to put all this?”

  “Your friends can take doggie bags back to campus, and we’ll store the rest. I won’t have to cook for a month.”

  We’re gathered in the kitchen, enjoying the spread that mom put together for my birthday celebration. Mini turkey meatballs, crab cakes, pulled pork and burger sliders, coconut shrimp, fruit and cheese platters, mini cheesecakes, white chocolate tarts, and of course, the three-tiered birthday cake (chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet) designed to look like pink and white polka dot gift boxes with a single stiletto as a topper.

  My brother, Miles, sits at the kitchen table, stuffing his face with dessert because Mom never allows him to have this much sugar. He’s taking advantage of the special occasion. Christian is stuck to my side. He says he’s afraid I might tumble down into a hole somewhere, never to be heard from again. He’s back to his usual gorgeous self. He was wasting away for a little while. Trevor couldn’t join us. He was summoned home the minute he received his acceptance letters. His dad wants to discuss his future at Forrester International. Poor Trevor. He’s not going to win this battle.

  “I’m just here for the presents,” Frances says. “When do we get to open them?”

  “It’s Abbie’s birthday,” Callie reminds her as if Frances forgot.

  “I know that. But as her best friends, we should get to ooh and aah and be nosy. No waiting until we leave to open them, Abbie.”

  “Okay, Frances,” Mom says. “You girls can ooh and aah all you want after we make a toast. Miles, find your father. It’s time for the toast.”

  “I’m right here,” Dad says, entering the kitchen. “My little girl isn’t a little girl anymore. I’ll make the toast and then retreat to my man cave to drink myself into oblivion.”

  “Dad, come on.”

  “Just kidding.”

  We gather around the island in the middle of the kitchen. Mom hands us each a champagne flute, but only she and dad are drinking the real thing. The rest of us have to settle for sparkling white grape juice. Mom nods at Frances. I guess they worked something out beforehand.

  “To the most awesome, fabulous, smart, and fearless chic I know,” Frances says. “Happy Birthday, Abbie.”

  I start to tear up as we clink our glasses together, and everyone says, “Here, here.” We all take a swig and place the glasses on the island counter. Christian kisses me on the cheek and pinches my butt where no one can see his hand. I play it cool but can’t stop grinning.

  “Now, for the presents,” Frances says.

  “Not so fast,” I say. “I have an announcement to make.”

  Everyone pipes down. “I got my last email late this afternoon. Yale accepted me. They’re offering a full academic scholarship.”

  My eardrums are about to shatter from the fanatic screaming of my friends. My mother hugs my father. Christian hugs me so tight I might pass out from lack of oxygen. Miles squeezes Callie and Frances. He lingers a little too long. I can see the mischief in his eyes. He can�
�t wait to brag to his friends that he hugged his sister’s two hot friends. I’m sure he’ll add some spice to make the story more interesting.

  “We need more champagne,” Mom says to Dad. “Why don’t you kids go on to the family room? The presents are all piled up in there. Then you can come back for birthday cake.”

  Mom doesn’t have to tell us twice. We trip over each other to get to the gifts. Christian follows us while Miles remains in the kitchen with my parents.

  “Open this one first,” Frances says, shaking a box with gold wrapping and white ribbon.

  “I agree,” Christian says, sitting on the arm of the couch, right next to me.

  Frances hands me the gift. I rip the wrapping off to find a paper bag colored box underneath with the logo of a famous shoe designer in white.

  “Where’s the card?” I ask excitedly.

  “Who cares?’ Frances says. “You can read it afterward.”

  Callie finds the card on the floor, and hands it to me, and I rip the envelope and reach inside for the card. I read a very private message from Christian. I look up at him and smile. I’ll keep the message just between us.

  “The present is from Christian,” I tell the girls.

  I open the box and gasp when I discover what’s inside: a gorgeous python, peep-toe pump in a combination of smooth butter-yellow, pale-green and dark-brown—my first pair of stilettos. I’ve never worn heels this high before, five inches, but as Frances says, who cares. I lift one shoe out of the box and hold it up so the girls can see.

  “Now, that’s a Louboutin. Jennifer Lawrence wore one similar on the red carpet recently. Christian, you have excellent taste,” Callie says, nodding in his direction.

  He smiles proudly.

  “Where would I wear this to?” I ask.

  “Um, hot college parties. Hellooo,” Frances says.

  I turn to Christian and whisper, “Thank you for my birthday present. It’s my first.”

  “Seems to be a habit with you and me,” he whispers back.

  We’re all back in the kitchen for birthday cake. I lean up against the island in the center. Miles tells me my phone is ringing. I left it on the kitchen table. I walk over to it and see a strange number. I answer the call anyway.

  “Hello.”

  “Hi, Abbie. Did you miss me? I sure hope so because I missed you like crazy.”

  For a moment, it feels like my heart has stopped beating, and bone-chilling fear takes over. I now have irrefutable proof that neither Sidney nor her supposed accomplice is behind the threat. “Who…Who are you?” I squeak.

  “Abbie, what’s going on?” Dad asks. All eyes are focused on me.

  His question jolts me out of my haze. I end the call. “It’s a wrong number, Dad. They just sounded a little creepy. Perhaps some kid prank calling.”

  He accepts my explanation and returns to eating his cake. My friends know something is up. I tell Christian and my parents I want to show my friends something in my room, and we’ll be right back.

  I toss the phone on the bed and lie on my back. Callie leans up against the dresser. Frances pulls out my homework chair and sits.

  “Who was that?” Frances asks, her tone anxious.

  “The Avenger,” I say.

  “What?” they ask at the same time.

  “It’s the same voice. She asked the same lame question, whether I missed her or not.”

  My phone rings again. I know it’s her. I pop up into a sitting position and answer the call.

  “Why did you hang up on me?” she asks. “Don’t do that again.”

  “Who are you? When does this end?”

  “It ends when I say so, Abbie. Now listen up. I was blindsided by the whole Sidney dying thing. I figured I should lay low, you know, give you time to fake grieve. Now, I’m back with your next assignment, as promised. A hundred thousand dollars cash in the next forty-eight hours.

  “The drop-off will be the dumpster behind the fast food joint on Route 30 in Framingham. Be there at 11:00 p.m. with the cash. If you decide to get cute, you know the penalty. Don’t be fooled, Abbie. You’re a long way from safe. Acceptance letters can be rescinded. I’ll disappear after I send my little gift, of course. Kellogg won’t even give you time to clean out your locker; he’ll want you gone so badly. Ciao!”

  “What did she say?” Callie asks. Both girls join me on the bed.

  “She wants double the amount of the first drop in two days. And she doesn’t go to St. Matthews.”

  “What makes you say that?” Frances asks.

  “Someone who goes to our school wouldn’t threaten to disappear weeks before graduation.”

  CHAPTER 38

  I don’t know how I managed to convince Lance to help me one last time, but I did. He’s waiting for me in the chapel’s first row. I sit next to him.

  “So, you got a complicated challenge for me, Mama?”

  “It’s the only kind you like.”

  “True. Lay it on me.”

  “I thought it was Sidney, but I was wrong. The only way to catch this girl is to infiltrate her phone.”

  “Whoa. That will take some major firepower. You’re not playing around.”

  “She’s not playing around, Lance.” I tell him about the phone calls and the extortion, leaving out other crucial details. I get creative with the truth when I explain why this is happening.

  “I need a week to come up with something.”

  “I don’t have a week. She said I had two days. I don’t want to sit home this fall, Lance. My acceptance letters could be rescinded based on her lies.”

  He lets out a puff of air. “I really want to help you, but I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Yes, you can. Please, Lance. I’m not going out like this. I tried everything I could think of and got nowhere. I have no more moves left to play in this game. Look, I’ll pay you. I know what I’m asking is huge, and it’s only fair I pay you for your time. How much?”

  “I can’t take your money.”

  “You took a huge risk for me by getting the surveillance footage of the locker. Now I’m asking this. Don’t you need to buy hardware or software? I don’t know how this would work exactly.”

  “Software. I would build the program you can install on your phone.”

  “Doesn’t this software exist already?”

  “I can check, see if something is already prepackaged, and I can modify it, but I don’t think so. I’m going to have to go without sleep for the next two days.”

  I touch his arm. “I’m sorry, Lance. I’ll make this up to you somehow.”

  “Like you said, we can’t let you go out like this.”

  “I have the voice sample. I’ll email it to you. Maybe there’s a clue in there that can help.”

  “Sure, whatever you got.”

  Part Nine

  TICK, TOCK

  CHAPTER 39

  15hrs, 30 minutes to deadline

  If anything goes wrong with the plan, my life will come crashing down for sure. So far, I’ve been able to avert disaster, but my luck is running out.

  I’m at my locker. Sidney’s death is still a presence with us. The ritual of back and forth between classes and hanging out in the hallways has been subdued since she left us. I suspect her ghost will always inhabit these halls. I pull my phone from the pocket of my sweater when it rings. I can’t afford to miss any calls today. It’s Lance.

  “Hey, Mama. I compared the samples you emailed me. They don’t match. It’s not the same girl.”

  Given the events of the past several weeks, this is not surprising news. I move my neck from side to side. I know my stress levels will rise as the day wears on. Who is she? Why did she target me? What does she want? It can’t be all about the money.

  “You there, Mama?”

  “Yes, Lance, I’m here. I heard you.”

  “I’ll run the samples again. I think it’s possible that sample B is not a girl.”

  “Pardon me? How is that possible?”
>
  “Whoever was stalking you with those calls could have used voice-altering software to hide their true identity. It’s easy to get. You can change your voice from male to female and vice versa, use accents, whatever. The possibilities are endless.”

  A lump forms in my throat. My brain scrambles to find a logical explanation, one that would fit perfectly, like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. One that wouldn’t make me feel like a four-alarm blaze is about to consume me.

  “Thanks for the update, Lance. Let me know what you find out.”

  I hang up, and my anxiety climbs higher than a jetliner gaining altitude. When I hear Christian’s voice right behind me, my breath hitches.

  “What are you trying to find out, babe?”

  He deserves the truth. At this point, I’m doing it for selfish reasons—to free myself from the feeling that I betrayed what we shared and never set things right.

  “Follow me to the student lounge. I have a story to tell you.”

  So, I do. I leave nothing out, including the fact that Ty gifted me the fifty thousand dollars I needed to pay off The Avenger.

  “I didn’t do it to hurt you, Christian. I just wanted to be that girl you put on a pedestal. The one you lavished with your attention. I loved swimming in it and didn’t want to contaminate the waters by admitting this ugly thing I had done.

  “I wanted to tell you so many times, and I kept putting it off. I wanted to tell you at Bedford Hills, but I didn’t want to ruin the trip. I figured you would break up with me for lying to you, and I wanted to have good memories of that time. I was going to confess everything when we got back. It was too late. When you walked away from me, in my mind, you had written The End on our story. That meant I didn’t have to tell you. Then Sidney died.”

  He closes and opens his mouth a few times before finally forming coherent words, “That’s why you’re working with Lance?”