Record scratch. Tree frowned. “I’m not falling in love with you.”
To her great annoyance, Gregory actually seemed relieved. “You’re not?” He asked this with a bit too much glee.
“No,” Tree said. “I’ve been having the weirdest day, and I—”
Gregory leaned forward and stopped her mouth with a kiss. She leaned into the safety and security that she always felt with him. It was the thing that kept her coming back for more. It wasn’t safety or security in their relationship; it was the knowing that he provided her. There was no doubt that he was turned on by her, and that was the thing that she needed to know, that no matter what the circumstances of their relationship, she was desirable. It turned her on to know that she turned him on.
His lips moved from her mouth to her neck, sending a frisson of excitement racing through her, but just before things went any further, she felt the overwhelming sensation that something was off—something she sensed was about to happen. Nothing was less sexy than a sudden sense of dread.
“Your wife…”
The words were a breathless whisper, and as soon as they left her lips, Tree felt Gregory stop—halted cold in his tracks.
“Okay. That’s kind of a buzzkill,” he said.
No sooner had the words left his mouth than they both jumped as the doorknob rattled. Stephanie called out from the hallway.
“Gregory? Are you in there?”
Gregory’s eyes were the size of cafeteria dinner plates. “Thank god you locked the door!” he whispered.
Tree realized in this moment that Gregory thought this whole thing was a game. It wasn’t that he didn’t find her attractive (he did) or that he thought she was stupid. (Well, maybe, but who really cared? She didn’t.) It was that he would always be this guy. Even in a crazy scenario where Tree actually loved him, and he actually left his wife for her, Tree realized that this was who he was: the guy who cheated.
Gregory swung the door open, and Stephanie peered into the office.
“Hey, sweetie! Didn’t realize I locked the door,” he told her. “Just wrapping up here. Have you met my student Teresa?”
He said it all a little too fast. Stephanie walked into the room, giving Tree the up and down.
“No,” Stephanie said coolly. “I haven’t.”
Tree was already moving, her bag slung over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you,” she said, blowing past Stephanie as fast as she could.
As she stepped into the hallway, she turned back and caught a glimpse of Gregory. He was smiling at his wife, playing off what had just happened by doing the loop de loop with his index finger at his temple—the international sign for crazy.
Tree wanted to turn around and yell, “I’m not the crazy one here, you thirsty asshole!” but she had to keep moving. There were bigger issues to deal with and not very much time before the clock struck midnight.
One of those issues was the party at the Chi Sig house tonight. She had a vague feeling that it was a bad idea. She wasn’t sure why, specifically—only sure that she’d woken up from a dream this morning in which she was being murdered on the way to a party at the Chi Sig house.
Isn’t that enough of a reason not to go?
Tree asked herself this question several times as she walked back to the Kappa house. When she got to her room, she clicked on the TV. Teen Mom was running (another) marathon on MTV. The title card made her think of her own mom, and she scrolled back to her favorite video on her phone. It was from Tree’s birthday exactly three years ago. She was a senior in high school. Her dad was filming.
They were standing at the island in the kitchen. Her dad had brought home a birthday cake frosted with yellow flowers and green leaves. They sang, “Happy birthday to us!”
Sometimes people told Tree that it was crazy that she and her mom had the same birthday, but Tree had always considered it a special gift of fate—as if the universe had willed it so. Her mom always said that Tree was the most perfect birthday present she’d ever received.
As the video danced across the screen on her phone, Tree felt the stab of longing that only comes from being far from home on a special day. She watched as they blew out the candles. She could hear her dad call them his “favorite girls” in the background, and then her mom asked her if she’d noticed how great the cake smelled, and when she leaned down to sniff, her mom pushed her face into it.
She’d sat up sputtering frosting as her mom and dad giggled and yelled. She was laughing and scooping frosting off her own face and throwing it at them. It was a cake fight—the perfect picture of the woman that her mother was, of the woman that her mom had taught her to be. Fun first. No matter what.
Tree wiped away a single tear that was sliding down her cheek. That was when it became clear she had to go to the party. She could almost hear her mom’s voice in her head: “Life is supposed to be fun. Fun first.”
Fun first.
That was her mom’s motto—and Tree would be damned before she sat around on the night of her birthday waiting to get killed by a dude in a baby mask.
Danielle strode through the door at that moment, picture-perfect except for the juice-can curlers in her hair. Tree frowned as she approached. Danielle was wearing her top. Before Tree could say anything, her friend read her mind.
“I know. I’m just borrowing it for tonight.”
It was all too much. Overwhelmed by her déjà vu, Tree let her eyes wander to the TV screen.
“What time are you going to the party tonight?”
Danielle was saying something, but Tree was fixated on Teen Mom. There was something so familiar about all of this. Was this show in my dream, too?
“Hello? Earth to space-bitch.”
Tree snapped back to attention. “Huh?”
Danielle did a super-mean imitation of a deaf person—voice and everything. “I said, ‘What time are you going to the party?’ ”
Tree frowned. “I don’t know. Later.”
Just then, the lights went out. Tree yelled, “Oh my god!”
Moments later, they flickered back to life, but Danielle was having none of it. “Our tuition dollars at work.”
There was something deeply unsettling about all of this. Danielle must’ve been able to see it in Tree’s eyes.
“Chill out!” she said. “It’s just another rolling blackout, sweetie.”
“It happened before?” Tree felt confused. Had it happened in real life? Or her dream last night?
“Yeah, like two weeks ago,” said Danielle. “Anyhoo, don’t be too late, or all the cute Sigma boys will be taken.”
Tree watched Danielle go, a mounting sense of dread making her stomach queasy.
She had to snap out of it before she left for the party. Maybe the dream had been just that, and the day was a total coincidence. Tree wasn’t sure, but she wasn’t going to take any chances. She had to get to that party. If the dream was real and somehow telling the near future, the next two hours were make or break—the difference between life and whatever the hell this was.
She went to her closet and pulled out a flirty little white dress with polka dots. This would be perfect for tonight. She loved the way she looked in this dress—and the way people looked at her when she wore it. Maybe people had dream hangovers. Maybe that’s what this was.
Fun first. If Mom had taught her nothing else, it was how to show up fashionably late and make an entrance.
9
Tree would’ve been lying if she’d said this didn’t feel familiar.
As she walked to the party, she knew she’d been here before somehow. There was the warm breeze and the manicured sidewalks, the Bayfield Baby banners on every old-fashioned streetlamp. There were the voice mails:
Gregory: That was close!
Dad: Today of all days…
She saw the walking bridge up a
head and slowed for a moment. Everything was a little hazy. She tried to remember what had happened in her dream, but she couldn’t get a clear picture. A group of students coming from or going to a game passed her. There was something about them she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Several of them were wearing Bayfield Baby masks. She paused as they passed, then turned to watch them. One of them, dressed all in black, mask over his (her?) face, turned back and noticed her.
Tree’s pulse quickened. Was this the killer? Was this the masked psycho who was about to make her dream a reality?
Someone in the group beyond yelled a name she couldn’t make out, and whoever it was turned and followed along, hurrying to catch up to the group.
Tree took a deep breath and kept walking. Across the walking bridge, down the stairs, she turned right and—
Holy. Shit.
There it was. The tunnel. The path under construction. The music box sitting in the center playing “Happy Birthday.”
She froze—but just for a moment. It all came flashing back to her. The music box. The masked psycho running up the embankment and dropping on her from the bridge above.
“No way.” She whispered these words—perhaps to the unseen nutjob in the mask, perhaps as a prayer for safety. And now she was talking to herself.
Jesus, Tree. Pull it together.
She ran back up the stairs and took the long way around to the Chi Sig house. It only took another couple of minutes, and the paths were well lit. Still, when she arrived, every window in the house was dark. If this was a party, it was truly a slumber party, and someone had declared Lights Out.
Tree felt the queasiness return to her stomach as she approached. Had she gotten the house wrong? Had Danielle decided to play a trick on her for leaving the house meeting early today? She walked up the porch stairs to the front door and tried the knob. It was locked.
What the actual fuck?
She stepped back from the door and turned to check the yard on either side. Nada. This was super weird. She turned back to the door to knock one more time, except the door was open.
And the psycho in the baby mask was standing there.
Tree felt a flood of adrenaline she’d never experienced race through her body like a drug. Her scream was loud, and shattering, and perfectly timed with her punch—a right hook to the jaw. The killer in the baby mask went down.
And the lights came up.
Standing just inside the door was Danielle, along with every friend Tree had made at college. Behind them, the membership of every frat and sorority on campus. They’d all just seen her freak out and punch someone. At first, Tree didn’t understand why they were all standing there in the dark, holding blue plastic cups and not making a sound. Then someone toward the middle of the crowd offered a half-hearted, “Surprise?” and she saw the banner above them that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY.
Nick Sims got up off the floor, rubbing his red, swelling cheek. “What the hell, Tree?”
Tree rushed inside to help him up. “Oh my god! I thought you…I thought I was…I’m so sorry!”
In the awkward silence, Danielle stepped forward, turned toward the assembled, and raised Tree’s hand in the air like the victor of a prizefight.
“Don’t mess with a Kappa bitch!”
When she shouted this, the crowd roared back to life. Someone cranked up the music, and there was a general rush forward to give high fives and hugs.
Tree was overwhelmed and so relieved. Her heart was racing, and she thought that she could’ve just had an actual stroke. But Danielle pulled her into a hug, and she hugged Danielle back. Something about it made her feel better, and invincible, and also, slightly silly.
Of course Danielle was going to throw you a surprise party, you moron. She chided herself, but only for a moment. She could feel her mother’s approval beaming through every smile in the room. Life was supposed to be fun. Tree decided that for the next two hours, that’s what she was going to have: as much fun as she possibly could.
She laughed and hugged Danielle and followed her to the bar for a blue plastic cup of her own.
* * *
—
Cocktails achieved, Tree and Danielle walked back to the center of the party. The two of them held court. They were, after all, the reigning leaders of the Kappa house, and Tree laughed so hard at one point that she had the conscious realization that she was having fun.
As she watched the guys play foosball and poker and with other girls’ emotions, Tree realized that she belonged here. Danielle was a great friend—probably her best friend—and Tree didn’t take that lightly. True, Danielle was a little psycho around the edges, but for the most part, the tallies landed in the “pro” column, not the “con” column.
And my god, Tree thought. Who gets the entire Greek population on campus crammed into one crappy house for the birthday party of a girl they’ve hardly noticed walking to class?
So, she took her place next to Danielle in front of the fireplace mantel that seemed to serve as HQ here at the Chi Sig house. They laughed and surveyed the scene, discussing the guys who sauntered by trying to curry privilege. After a little while, Danielle took a short lap around the ground floor of the party. When she returned, Tree could tell she was annoyed.
“That slut.”
“Who?” Tree asked.
“Lori. She said she’d be here.” Danielle shook her head. “She’s so out of the house next year.”
“I think she had a double shift,” Tree said. She checked her phone. No new messages.
“Whatevs.” Danielle was over it. “She’s been boning some mystery guy.”
Tree laughed. “What?”
Before Danielle told her who Lori was sleeping with (or how she knew this), something else caught her eye. That’s my girl, thought Tree. The shiniest object wins.
Danielle nodded toward the hallway. “There’s your stalker,” she said with an evil grin.
Tree followed Danielle’s nod and saw Tim, his triceps about to snap the sleeves off his V-neck. He took a sip from his beer and stared Tree down.
“He’s so hot,” Danielle whispered.
“Danielle!” Tree laughed. “That’s so gross.”
“Oh, okay.” Danielle rolled her eyes.
Before Tree could protest any more, Nick appeared with a fresh drink and a charming smile, as if to say Tree’s right hook to the jaw was forgiven—and he was ready to see what she had in mind for Round 2. Danielle took a step forward, wedging herself into the circle, but Nick didn’t seem to notice her.
“Truce?” he asked Tree.
“Fine.” She smiled back at him. “Why were you wearing that stupid mask, anyway?”
Nick shrugged. “Just showing a little school spirit. Didn’t think I’d get clocked for it.”
Danielle laughed loudly at this. Too loudly, Tree thought. Her friend was coming off as a little desperate. Tree waited for Danielle to finish flipping her hair and settle down.
“I really am sorry,” she told Nick. “Did you ice it?”
“It’s fine,” Nick said, stepping between her and Danielle so they were face-to-face. He gave her a devilish grin. “You can make it up to me later.” He gave Tree a knowing wink and then headed off into the crowd.
Tree watched him saunter away for a moment. She wasn’t mad about his dimples or the way his butt looked in those jeans. When she turned back to Danielle, she saw the look of the ice queen fixed upon her.
“What?” she asked.
“Don’t ‘what’ me.” Danielle was pissed. “You know exactly what you’re doing, Tree.”
“Danielle—” Tree tried to stop her, but it was no use, and her friend stormed off in a huff.
Tree felt her phone buzz and checked the screen to find a text from Gregory:
Sorry…can’t get away tonight. C U tomorrow?
&n
bsp; Tree sighed and put her phone away. Glancing around, she realized she was surrounded by two kinds of people: the ones she hardly knew and the ones she hardly wanted to know. Maybe trying to salvage her birthday wasn’t such a good idea.
Tree polished off her drink and put the cup on the mantel. At least she wasn’t having weird premonitions about what was going to happen next. The vodka made her feel a little sleepy, and as she surveyed the party, she realized that she was tired of being alone in rooms like this, surrounded by people, and still, somehow, all by herself.
She started making her way to the front door. As she pushed through the crowd past the stairs, she glanced up and saw Nick just standing there, looking right at her. He flashed her a smile and jerked his chin up in the direction of the second floor.
Tree paused and smiled back.
The message was clear as day: Follow me.
Maybe it was the booze or just the confidence that came from feeling like she was on her own. Whatever the reason, she changed course and followed Nick Sims up the stairs.
10
The second floor was as crowded as the first, people making out in the hallway and running in and out of the bedrooms that lined the hall, doing god knows what.
She searched the crowd and finally spotted him waiting for her in a doorway at the end of the hall. As she started toward him, he flashed her a smile and disappeared into the room.
Tree walked down to the open door, crossed the threshold, and froze in her tracks. The entire place had been Frat-Brah’d to the max. A black beaded curtain and a white skull and crossbones hid the door to the closet. A fraternity paddle was mounted next to a dresser, which held a careful display of at least thirty empty Jägermeister bottles—each one kept as a trophy of individual triumph, in a living monument to blackout drinking.
Posters covered wide swaths of the wall space—athletes, cars, women in bikinis, and a surprising number of roosters in various shapes, sizes, and styles. Beneath one of the roosters over the bed, a full-size blow-up doll wearing a sombrero languished in the space by the window, her open mouth a permanent red O peeking out from behind the headboard. A light-up sign nearby glowed with the word Applause.
Happy Death Day & Happy Death Day 2U Page 5