Tree was unable to stifle a laugh. Never before had she seen home décor so clearly penis-themed—definitely the work of a guy whose chief concern was crowing about his cock.
A blue glass bong caught her eye on the bedside table. She walked over and picked it up. It must’ve been over three feet tall and was surprisingly heavy.
“Wow,” she said aloud.
The whole place was a veritable temple of peak fraternity brother. It was a shrine to a very specific college experience, the kind that cropped up years later with hashtags during confirmation hearings. In Nick’s defense, she noticed his bed was made. Perhaps he wasn’t a total lost cause.
There was still no sign of him. Tree guessed he must be in the bathroom or maybe the closet doing whatever it was he did before he tried to put the moves on a girl. Hopefully it didn’t involve a scented body spray. She’d gotten hives once from making out with a guy on the swim team who was doused in that stuff. That would be a hard pass on her end.
She stepped over to the mirror above the dresser and checked her lipstick. She flipped her hair forward to give it some lift, and when she flipped it back up, she almost jumped out of her skin. Someone wearing that damn baby mask was standing right behind her.
Tree wheeled around, stumbling up against the dresser, the Jäger bottles clattering in protest.
“Shit, Nick! You scared me!”
She laughed, putting a hand to her chest where the knife had landed in her nightmare. Nick just stood there, still and silent.
The wide-eyed Bayfield Baby totally freaked Tree out.
“You want me to punch you in the face again?” she asked.
He didn’t move a muscle or make a sound in response. Tree laughed, then took a couple of slow steps toward him. She pulled the mask up slowly to reveal Nick’s boyish smile, the ever-present mischief dancing in his eyes.
He leaned in like he might kiss her, but instead, he said, “Welcome to the Pleasure Dome,” and hit the button on a remote Tree now saw in his hand.
Instantly, the room was blasted with electronic dance music so loud that Tree thought her heart might stop. Flashing club lights mounted to the ceiling sprang to life shooting LEDs in every color at a mirrored disco ball. (How did I miss that earlier?) It was an all-out assault on the senses, and if that weren’t enough, Nick started dancing. Or, rather, flailing around, looking insanely pleased with himself. Tree stood there mesmerized by how bad he was at this—not just dancing but also hooking up. She really thought he’d have more game. Instead, he seemed to be losing himself in the beat. Was she supposed to join him? That was not happening.
“It’s a little loud, don’t you think?”
Tree tried to yell over the music, but it was no use. Nick tried pulling her toward him to dance, but Tree’s phone buzzed, and she saw the texts from Danielle:
Where R U?!
R U w/ him right now?!
She turned around and stepped over to the dresser to give Nick some space while she answered. He kept dancing behind her as she texted back:
No! I would never do that 2 U.
It was only a tiny lie, Tree decided. She technically was “with” Nick right now, but thanks to the Pleasure Dome, she would never be with Nick. Ever.
Another text from Danielle popped up:
I hope you both die!
Tree rolled her eyes as she read that message. When she turned around, all she saw was that Nick had stopped dancing and put that goddamn mask back on. That was it. She was out.
“Okay!” she yelled. “I’m officially over this. Have fun in the Sahara Tent.” She walked over to Nick and got up right in his face so he could hear her through the mask and over this god-awful music. “C’mon!” she said. “Like, seriously, Danielle is freaking out.”
His arm moved up, and there in his hand, where the remote had been, was a knife wet with blood.
Tree gasped and took a step back and stumbled over something. It was Nick. That was impossible, but there he was. His lifeless body was sprawled across the floor, a pool of blood growing under him so rapidly that Tree couldn’t make sense of where all of it was coming from.
She looked back up. Whoever this was wearing the mask now had the knife raised in her direction. With a scream that even she couldn’t hear above the music, she ran to the dresser, grabbed the fraternity paddle off the wall, and swung back as hard as she could. It was a direct hit right in the baby mask, and the psycho went down. The knife clattered away under the bed.
Tree ran for the door, but just as she had the knob in her grasp, she felt strong arms rip her backward, flinging her onto Nick’s bed. She tried to crawl off the other side, but it was no use. The killer was on top of her now, pinning her down.
Tree screamed and kicked and felt the killer pause. She turned to see one of Nick’s frat brothers standing in the suddenly open doorway.
“Get help!” she screamed, but her cry was lost to the blaring beats and he just stood there, holding his drink and swaying in the doorway. A slow, goofy grin spread across his face as he surveyed what he clearly thought was her and Nick getting it on.
“Yeaaaaaaaaah!” He raised his glass and turned back into the hall, closing the door behind him.
“You asshole!” Tree screamed, struggling to keep the killer’s hands off her neck, squirming and kicking, scratching and biting, until she saw a hand reach over and grab the blue glass bong off the side table. Suddenly, the bong crashed down onto the edge of the headboard above her, shattering the end. The skunky smell of bong water flooded the room as the killer in the baby mask raised the broken end of the cylinder into the air high over his head.
Tree screamed one last time as he brought it down, closing her eyes tightly as the jagged edge of the glass ripped into the soft skin of her neck, just above her collarbone. Her whole body jerked and seemed to contort. She choked as her own blood filled her windpipe, the panic of not being able to breathe now added to the searing pain of a white-hot poker in her throat.
She grasped at her neck, trying to cough or gasp. Gagging and retching, Tree bolted upright, forcing her eyes open one last time to search for any sign that someone out in the hallway might possibly have heard her and come to her aid.
As the room came into focus, the music stopped. There were no lights or disco ball. No blow-up doll or applause sign. No Jäger bottles on the dresser.
Just some guy, rummaging under a desk in the corner.
11
Tree’s scream brought Carter scurrying out from underneath his desk in the corner. She was crying and clawing at her throat. She could still feel the sharp point of the broken bong severing her arteries, but now a new terror overtook her.
There was Carter. And her pants folded up. She heard the bell tolling outside, and the trombone player getting told to Fuck off! in the hallway.
Carter rushed over to her, his mouth hanging open. “Is everything okay?” he asked, just as her phone started to ring:
Yeahhh! It’s my birthday, and I ain’t gotta pick up the phone!
Tree grabbed it and sent her dad’s call to voice mail, then leaped out of Carter’s bed, found her pants on the dresser, and started pulling them on as fast as she could.
Carter frowned. “Don’t know if you remember my name or not. You were—”
“Pretty wasted?” Tree cut him off.
He paused, looking at her funny. “Yeah.”
She pulled off his T-shirt, and he turned around shyly to avert his eyes. “And your name’s Carter?” she asked him.
He turned back around. “Yeah.”
“And we’ve never met before?”
He shook his head. “No. I mean, not until last night.”
The tears were streaming down Tree’s cheeks now. “My god,” she said softly. “This is a nightmare.”
Carter was insulted. “I’m sorry,” he said sarc
astically as Tree pulled on her sparkly tank from the night before. “You were the one who wanted to come home with me.”
Tree didn’t respond. There was no way to explain to Carter what was happening. She grabbed her phone and heels off the floor, tucking them under her arm, and raced for the door barefoot. Just as she opened it, the kid with the bleached hair came barreling in, still asking about her “fine vagine.” She yelped as they almost collided with each other. He froze in the doorway, and Tree charged past him into the hall as Carter said, “Nice one, dickhead,” behind her.
Stepping into her red patent heels in the lobby, Tree raced through the front doors of Williams Hall. Blowing past the judgmental art student, she pushed away the clipboard from the environmental activist girl, who was deeply offended.
“A simple ‘no, thanks’ would do!” she shouted, but Tree was already dodging the sprinklers as they soaked the couple on the lawn.
She felt like strong, murderous hands were about to wrap around her neck at any moment. Her heart raced and a cold sweat trickled down her neck. The car alarm made her jump even though she knew it was coming, and she raced by the pledge who collapsed on the grass as the fraternity brother shouted into the bullhorn.
When Tim stepped around the pillar to block her path, she shrieked. Was he the one? Was he the killer who had just stabbed Nick to death, all because he was angry she had blown him off? Had he killed her, too? He certainly had the arms to break a bong over a headboard.
“You okay?” Tim asked her. “Why haven’t you returned any of my texts?”
Tree could only sniff and stare at him, her face wet with tears and mascara. After a moment, she raced around him without speaking, half running to get back to the Kappa house. She glanced back to see if he followed her. He didn’t, but she still picked up her pace.
Finally back in her room, she swung the door closed and leaned against it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to slow her pulse.
“She finally rolls in.”
Tree ignored Lori and walked over to her bed, sitting down and doing her best to catch her breath. Lori closed her journal at the vanity and looked over at her with concern.
“Hey. You okay?”
Tree stared straight ahead, her mind racing. When she didn’t answer, Lori called her name again and came over to her.
“Tree? Tree, what’s wrong? Say something.”
Tree looked up at her for a moment before she spoke. She felt like something was breaking open inside her.
“I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
Lori sat down on the bed next to her and put a reassuring hand on Tree’s back. “Just calm down,” she said softly. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Tree turned toward her and grabbed Lori’s warm hand to keep her own from shaking.
“Lori,” she said, her voice quivering with panic. “I know this isn’t going to make any sense, but I have already lived through this day. Twice.”
Lori frowned and looked up at the ceiling trying to formulate a response. “Tree…”
“No! Believe me, I know. It sounds crazy, but this is happening to me. I swear to god.”
“I’m sure it feels like you’re living through—”
“Okay, okay!” Tree interrupted her. She was desperate for someone—anyone to believe her. “You made me a cupcake for my birthday. Right? You’re about to give it to me, and then later on tonight, there’s a surprise party.”
Lori wilted with disappointment. “Who told you? Was it Becky?”
“Nobody told me!” Tree was almost shouting now. “That’s what I mean. Don’t you see? I know what is going to happen before it happens!”
“Jesus,” Lori whispered as Tree leaned in toward her, frantically whispering. The fear was overwhelming.
“Lori, somebody’s going to kill me tonight.”
Lori looked at her in total shock, and Tree felt the slightest tinge of hope that maybe, just maybe, she had gotten through. Then Lori’s face cracked into a smile.
“Okay, I get it,” she said with a laugh. “Who put you up to this? Danielle?”
“No!” Tree was sobbing and frantic now. “This isn’t some stupid joke! This is actually happening to me. I don’t know who’s going to kill me tonight, but someone is. I just don’t know who it is. I—”
“Tree! You’re starting to freak me out.”
“How do you think I feel?” she yelled at the top of her lungs, the frustration and the fear finally commanding her fully. Tree didn’t care how crazy she sounded. Maybe she was losing her mind. Right now, the only thing that mattered was that Lori believed her.
Lori rubbed her shoulder. “Tree, look at me,” she said in a soothing voice. “Nobody’s trying to kill you.”
Her response only made Tree more frantic. “Yes, they are!”
“Tree!” Lori raised her voice. “Look at me!”
A sinking feeling gripped Tree as Lori looked into her eyes and continued.
“I know today is hard with your mom and all,” she said. “Why don’t you skip class? Just take the day off and get some rest.” Lori reached up with a gentle smile and wiped away the tears sliding down Tree’s cheeks. “I promise you’ll feel better tomorrow, okay?”
Tree gave up on trying to convince her friend. Finally, she nodded, and Lori finished getting ready for her shift at the campus hospital. Before leaving, she put the cupcake on Tree’s nightstand and told her she was sorry that it wasn’t a surprise.
Tree lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling. What had she thought was going to happen? No one was going to believe her. Maybe she was the only real psycho on the loose at Bayfield University. Her hand wandered up to her throat. She could feel her pulse hammering through her neck, right where the killer had stabbed her. Right where she imagined she’d been stabbed. How could it feel so real but be just a dream?
The helplessness that flooded through her at that moment threatened to paralyze her completely. Just before it did, Tree willed herself to sit up.
Maybe nobody would believe her, but that didn’t mean anything was different. She’d lived through this day twice before, and no matter how things lined up, one thing was certain—someone was trying to kill her and would try again tonight. The only thing she seemed to be able to control was her own course of action. Something about that idea made Tree feel a little bit better.
She wiped her cheeks with her hands and stood up, looking around her room. She might not be able to change what was going to happen, but she could be ready for it.
12
Tree took Lori’s advice to blow off her classes, but she didn’t relax. After a trip to the local hardware store for a hammer and nails, she spent all afternoon in their room at the Kappa house, dismantling her IKEA nightstand. Several hours later, every window was covered with the boards she’d nailed over them. After pounding the last one into place, she stepped back to admire her work.
“Let’s see you get in here now, asshole.”
Next, she went about rearranging the furniture. Her dresser, not from IKEA, was as heavy as a tank. Groaning and grunting against the weight, she slid it across the door of the room, pushing it flush for good measure. As she did, a frame on top fell over. She picked up the picture and gazed at it for a moment. It was of Tree and her mom from the summer after senior year. They’d been out shopping for stuff to take to college. Her dad had found them relaxing on the front porch afterward and insisted on taking a picture. They were both smiling up at the camera. There was so much hope in her own eyes and so much love in her mom’s. Tree wished she could go to sleep right this second and wake up on that morning instead.
A hard knock at the door and somebody rattling the knob jarred Tree out of her thoughts.
“Tree?” Danielle’s voice was loud and clear. “Why’s the door locked?”
There was no way she could let Danielle in. She couldn’t see the room like this. She’d never let Tree live it down. If she wound up living through this day at all.
“I just need some alone time.”
“What time are you going to the party tonight?” Danielle asked through the door.
Tree grabbed her phone to check the time: 9:23 p.m.
“I don’t know…” she began as the power surged and the lights went out, plunging the whole house into darkness.
“Our tuition dollars at work!” Danielle shouted her annoyance in the hallway. As the lights flickered back on, she continued, “Anyhoo, don’t be too late, or all the cute Sigma boys will be taken.”
“Okay!” Tree called back. “See you soon.”
When Danielle’s footsteps faded away down the hall, Tree glanced back down at the frame she was holding. She opened the top drawer of her dresser and put it on top of the clothes that hid her graduation picture. Then she flipped on the TV and took up her post on her bed. She wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
As she’d boarded up the windows in the room, an idea had taken shape in the back of Tree’s mind: If she survived the night, maybe she wouldn’t wake up on the same day again. If she could avoid dying, she’d get a new tomorrow. It was worth a shot, anyway, and her room felt like a fortress now. If a killer was coming for her, well, good luck getting in here.
She snuggled in on her bed to watch some TV and picked up the cupcake Lori had left on the nightstand. Red velvet was her favorite, and it smelled delicious. Peeling off the paper wrapper, she started to take a bite but paused when she realized she was watching the same episode of Teen Mom for the third time (day?) in a row. Tree sighed and looked for the remote. It wasn’t in any of the usual spots within arm’s reach, and she dug around in the pillows and blankets for a second. No dice.
Happy Death Day & Happy Death Day 2U Page 6