“THAT’S IT!” NEELA SQUEALED. “YOU DID IT!”
“Persey did it,” Riot said, dropping the pose in his amazement. “I can’t take credit.”
The moment he let his arms fall back into place by his side, the light went out.
Perplexed, Riot struck the pose again, trying to hold his arms in the exact same positions as before. The light went on. He dropped them, and again, it extinguished.
“Spread out,” Arlo said, not waiting for anyone to comment. “Each of our totems must be represented by footprints somewhere in this room.”
Gee, you think?
“If we can get all of those lightbulbs lit,” she continued, “maybe we can figure out the rest of this challenge.”
“Mackenzie and Wes are Sanji and Sue Storm,” Neela said, ticking them both off on her fingers. She spun around, pointing. “And the Marvel collection is right next to the anime.”
“Maybe Kevin’s the anime guy?” Mackenzie whined. “We don’t know for sure it’s Wes.”
Kevin tossed his hair out of his eyes as he descended from the balcony. “If it was supposed to be me, they’d have kept the hair blond. Besides, I don’t smoke.”
Persey smiled. She was pretty sure that was bullshit, but she appreciated that he wasn’t falling into Mackenzie’s hands.
Neela rushed across the room. “Footprints! Two sets!”
“At the juncture between Marvel and anime,” Arlo said, nodding her head in understanding. “No wonder I didn’t see these. I was distracted by the amazing collectibles.” Because there had to be a reason why she wasn’t taking the lead.
Wes was unimpressed. “Okay, so what? We found some feet. What are we supposed to do with this information?”
“You two.” Arlo pointed to Wes and Mackenzie. “Match your feet to those and see if it replicates the pose from upstairs.”
“Why me?” Mackenzie whined even louder.
“Maybe Leah wants to watch you make out with Wes?” Kevin suggested.
Persey was pretty sure the comment was meant as a dig, not a compliment, but Mackenzie missed no opportunity to flirt. “Would you like to watch?”
Wes raised his hand. “Do I get a say in this?”
“Nope!” Kevin positioned himself beside the nearby display case that housed all the horror-related items. Visible against the white tile below were two sets of footprints. He pointed at the floor, then at Persey. “Now crouch down like Laurie so we can get this show on the road, will you?”
But Mackenzie was like spilled glitter: you couldn’t get rid of her that easily. “Kev,” she said, dialing up the sugary sweetness, “you did such a good job with Riot’s pose. Could you demonstrate to Wes? He’s not going to know how to hold me.”
I seriously doubt that.
She leaned over Persey and grabbed Kevin’s arm, leaning in. “Pwetty pwease?”
“Go,” Persey said, shooing Kevin off. If she had to listen to Mackenzie’s flirty voice for one more second she was going to vomit up her airplane pretzels. “Or we’ll never get out of here.”
With his back to Mackenzie, Kevin rolled his eyes, then plastered on a goofy grin and hurried off.
Persey perused the horror section while waiting for Kevin to return. Her brother loved horror movies, especially those by John Carpenter, and when she was little, he’d routinely tortured Persey by making her watch them. She’d spend most of the movies with her hands over her eyes, too scared to peek, even when her brother would crack jokes. She was never sure if he was trying to lighten the mood or lull her into a sense of security so she’d open her eyes and see something she could never unsee.
It was amazing she could identify Laurie Strode at all: she’d barely seen any of that movie. Just heard the screaming.
Meanwhile, Mackenzie led Kevin back to Marvel corner, where Wes waited, leaning lazily against the wall. She helped position Kevin, one arm behind her back, as she sunk into a dip, then placed her hand daintily behind his neck and brought his face to hers for a kiss. Just before their lips met, she shot Persey a triumphant glance.
Persey merely sighed. Everything was a competition for girls like that. Even when the other party couldn’t have given less of a shit.
“Is everybody in position?” Arlo called from upstairs. “Ten minutes on the clock.”
“Hold up!” Kevin said.
“Uh, Kevin,” Neela said, leaning over the banister. There was laughter in her voice. “You need to make like Madonna and strike a pose.”
Persey smiled as she crouched down, attempting to line her feet up to the prints on the floor. If it wasn’t for this competition, we might have been friends.
One by one the lightbulbs flared to life. Wes’s and Mackenzie’s came on simultaneously as Wes bent her backward, but before his lips touched hers, thankfully. Wes still tried to kiss Mackenzie of course, and for a moment, Persey almost felt sorry for her.
“Save it,” Mackenzie said, turning her face away from Wes.
Seven of the eight lights were on; only Kevin’s remained dark as he sauntered back to Persey. “You ready for this?”
“The competition?”
He shook his head. “To see if you were right. Again.” Then, without waiting for her to answer, he took his position behind her, like Michael Myers holding a knife.
The eighth light buzzed to life, and as it did, the floor beneath the fire pole slid open.
It was a circular hole around the metal post, which extended down into the darkness beneath, where the tile floor had split in the middle and slid away.
“Are we supposed to slide down?” Mackenzie pushed Wes off and stutter-stepped toward the fire pole, leaning forward when her toes met the lip of the hole, trying to catch a glimpse of what lay below. As she did, one of the lights on the wall went out. But the trapdoor, thankfully, stayed wide open.
Kevin eyed the light bulbs closely. “I think that’s the plan.”
“Looks kinda dangerous,” Mackenzie replied. “Can’t someone else go first?”
Not quite so ballsy as she wants everyone to believe.
“I’ll go—” Riot began, following Mackenzie to the edge of the trapdoor. But he never got to finish his sentence. The instant he broke his pose, another light went out and the round door slammed shut.
“What’s happening?” Arlo’s head appeared over the edge of the banister, as another light went dark. “Why are all the lights going out?”
“Don’t break your pose!” Wes shouted. Arlo jumped, startled at being snapped at instead of being the snapper, but hurried back into place. “Fine. Now what?”
“Looks like the powers that be want us to go one at a time,” Kevin said. “Single file down into the dark, scary pit.”
“Well, I’m definitely not going first,” Mackenzie said.
“Just slide down the damn pole,” Wes said, retaking his place. “There’s not going to be anything dangerous down there.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Eight minutes.”
“Um, guys?” Neela said. “Could we hurry this up?”
“Nothing to be afraid of, right?” Kevin said.
“Right.” Mackenzie was quick to respond, though not as quick to act. As Kevin and Wes resumed their positions and the door slid open, she still just stood at the edge of the hole, frozen.
The threat of imminent failure might not have been able to spur Mackenzie into action, but Persey was pretty sure the threat of competition would. “If you’re too afraid,” she said, “I’ll go first.”
Kevin grinned down at her, his face upside down like an evil jack-o’-lantern. “You’re so badass, Persey.”
Mackenzie instantly stiffened. The idea that Kevin might heap praise on someone who wasn’t her was enough to get her moving. She hooked one leg around the pole with the ease and fluidity of an exotic dancer about to launch into a routine. “No, I can do this.” She blew Kevin a kiss. “See you downstairs!” Then she leaped onto the pole, grabbing it with both hands, and swirled down throug
h the floor.
Persey heard a dull thud as Mackenzie hit the ground below. “You okay?”
Mackenzie’s reply was slightly delayed. “Yeah.” Seconds later, an orangish glow emerged from the hole. “But you guys aren’t going to believe this.”
“Next.” Shaun didn’t even wait for a discussion of who would go, but broke his pose from the Star Wars section and grabbed the pole with both hands. He shook it vigorously, testing its sturdiness, then hurled his body onto the pole, disappearing into the orangey darkness.
Riot was next, and as soon as he disappeared down the rabbit hole, Kevin reached his hand to Persey. “Your turn.”
Persey eyed the fire pole. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to see what was at the bottom. “I’ll go last?”
Kevin shook his head. “You don’t want Mackenzie to think that you’re as scared as she was.”
He had a point, but she still hesitated.
“I promise there won’t be any dead bodies down there, okay?”
Persey pressed her lips together, irritated. “You sure about that?”
“Absolutely.” His boyish grin spread across his face.
“Fine.” Persey took his hand, and he yanked her up with more strength than she was prepared for. She went airborne for a split second before her feet touched the floor—the move might have looked balletic if she hadn’t almost fallen over.
“You good?” Kevin asked.
Persey nodded. “I’m good.”
“I’m glad you decided to come today.”
The comment was so out of left field that Persey did a double take. “Um, yeah.” I’d be gladder if someone hadn’t died.
She felt her face burn up, and she turned her back so Kevin wouldn’t see her confusion, then hurried across the floor, gripping the shiny brass bar with both hands before wrapping her legs around it and slipping into the unknown.
PERSEY’S GRADES WERE SLIPPING. IT SEEMED IMPOSSIBLE (not really) that after two years of mediocrity—one at private school, one at public—things could get any worse, but only two months into her junior year, Algebra II was already kicking her ass per (more than) usual and Chemistry was an albatross around her neck.
There had been a slight reprieve sophomore year, a momentary miracle where it looked as if Persey’s academic performance might be improving. Geometry made more sense than algebra, biology was a friendly science, and American history certainly wasn’t as rough as econ. Plus, the change in schools had given her a boost. By second semester, Persey managed to pull all Bs and B-minuses—a first in her academic career—and though her dad still spent much of that summer once again ignoring her presence, there were moments when he’d forget that he loathed his daughter, especially after she took that stupid SAT exam. Moments when, if she closed her eyes and imagined hard enough, Persey could almost pretend that she had a normal family.
But even that sad little glimmer of normalcy evaporated with the first progress report of junior year.
C-minuses across the board except for an A-minus (study hall) and a D (algebra, of course.) Her math failure was dragging everything else down, even affecting normally stress-free subjects like English and political science. It wasn’t as if much had changed since sophomore year, either. She still had almost no friends, definitely no social life other than working on the stage crew, and studied just as hard.
Her grades were discouraging, and she vacillated between wanting to try harder or just giving up. The one bright spot was that her dad had somehow forgotten (ignored) the fact that she spent a lot of her spare time at the theater, because if he’d actually remembered, she was pretty sure he’d make her quit. Which might break her entirely. It was the only thing she looked forward to, the only time in her day when she felt like she was actually good at something. After working as the assistant prop mistress last spring she’d been promoted to spotlight operator for the fall play. It was the perfect job: she didn’t have to talk to anyone, plus Persey got to hide in the shadows and watch every moment of every performance.
She even took pride in her role. The director, Mr. Beck, had told her that her new job was an essential part of the show because she would be directing the audience to the most important bits of action and dialogue onstage.
And she was good at it.
They were only two months into rehearsals for the fall play, but Persey already knew every word of Sheridan’s The School for Scandal, which she’d mouth along with the actors during rehearsals while she helped build and paint the sets.
She’d made a real attempt to compensate for the hours spent in the theater by doubling up her studying time, which, in theory, should have helped her grades. But, apparently, not so much. This progress report would merely reinforce her dad’s assessment that she was lazy and slow and stupid. All the names he’d been calling her since it became clear she’d never “live up” to her brother.
Now she was going to have to endure all the beratement again.
With a day off from rehearsal, Persey decided to walk home from school, rather than call for a ride. A short reprieve, but one she needed in order to come to terms with the shitshow that would be family dinner. The searingly hot sun baked the sidewalk, the heat radiating up through the soles of her shoes so it almost felt as if she was walking barefoot on the concrete. She yearned for some air-conditioning and comfy leather seats, and more than once she pulled out her phone, ready to call for a pickup. It wasn’t as if her parents would even be home when she arrived. They were at the office for longer and longer stretches each day, preparing for the new product unveiling. So if she’d be alone at the house for hours anyway, why subject herself to the sweltering heat?
It’s my punishment. Her odyssey home was self-inflicted hell. By the time she reached the gate outside her housing community, she was slick with sweat and red-faced with exhaustion.
Tyson, one of the security guards, poked his head through the window of the air-conditioned station, his eyes wide with worry. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, feeling her head spin a little as she did. “Yeah.”
“No.” He opened the door and beckoned her inside. “Get in here and have some water.”
Too exhausted to refuse, Persey stumbled into the guards’ shack. It was a tiny square, hardly bigger than a closet, with windows on all four sides, two of which slid open to accommodate conversations with cars that were both coming and going from the gated development. A desk and computer were built into the front of the shack, a row of high-tech monitors embedded in the console cycling through camera angles that Persey didn’t even know existed, and a walkie-talkie stood charging in its base beside the screen where the guards logged all visitors. Two chairs were tucked beneath the desk, one of which Tyson wheeled out for her. As she fell into it, he reached into a mini fridge, retrieving a small bottle of ice-cold water.
“Drink this,” Tyson commanded. The bottle felt soothing in her hand, and before she cracked it open, she held the refreshing coolness up to her neck. The cold air plus the chilled plastic against her skin did its job, and within seconds, Persey was feeling more herself.
“Thank you,” she said, taking a gulp. “I needed that.”
“You looked like you were about to pass out in the middle of the road.” Tyson pursed his lips. “Why were you walking home? You know you’re not supposed to be unaccompanied.”
Persey smiled. She liked Tyson, and somehow, it was easier to talk to him than to any single member of her family. “I needed the exercise.”
“Your dad know about this?”
Persey shook her head, avoiding his eyes.
“Okay. Well, it’s not my job to tell him, but could you please think twice before you do something boneheaded like walk home from West Valley again?” He grinned at her, eyes crinkling. “It’d mean a shit ton of paperwork for me if you’d passed out on my sidewalk.”
Persey laughed. “Noted.”
“I’m calling James to take you the rest of the way in the cart,” Tyson said, reachin
g for the walkie. He didn’t even give her time to protest. “And no, I don’t want to hear it. If your brother sees you walking into the house like that, it’ll be my ass.”
Persey froze. “My brother?”
“Yeah, didn’t you know? He got here an hour ago.”
Persey’s mind raced as the golf cart slowly dragged her and James up the hill toward her house, the last one on the block. It was a Wednesday, late October. There were no school holidays, not even the excuse of a long three-day weekend to come home from college. So why had her brother flown all the way across the country from New York?
Whatever the reason, it’s not good.
She thanked James as he deposited her at the apex of the long circular drive that curved up to the front of her house, then waited until his cart disappeared behind the tall shrubbery before punching her security code into the keypad and unlocking the door.
“Hello?” She stepped tentatively into the foyer. The lights were off; the sterile white tile and matching walls reflected the coldness that always existed in her house despite the desert heat outside, and her voice seemed to echo up the staircase to the floor above, tinkling through the ornate chandelier and pinging around in the emptiness. “Anyone home?”
She listened, hardly daring to breathe. If her brother or her parents were home, they should have been able to hear her if they were in the main house. It was large, but it wasn’t that large. She waited for the telltale sound of footsteps, a muffled garble of voices, bumping or clanking or anything that might indicate life. But the house was silent.
Weird.
Maybe her brother had come and gone? Arrived just to change his clothes and then headed out to meet one of his buddies? She was pretty sure at least one of them had stayed in town for college. She’d just placed one foot on the bottom step, ready to head up to her room, when she heard a loud thud coming from the back of the house.
From her parents’ room.
The master suite occupied the entire east wing of the ground floor, consisting of a bedroom, sitting area, dressing room, master bath, and two walk-in closets, all of which opened onto a private lanai beside the swimming pool. It was more “resort living” than “cozy family home,” and Persey hadn’t actually been through those double doors since she was a kid. But the modern decor with Spanish-style accents was exactly as she remembered it—just as ostentatious now as it had been when she crept inside as a five-year-old after having a nightmare in the middle of the night—without a floral arrangement or a pleat of drapery out of place.
#NoEscape (Volume 3) (#MurderTrending) Page 14