I’m truly starting to hate this game.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Goldie
Halloween
I read the note in my hand one more time from my sister, narrowing my eyes as I do.
Golds,
I had to do a couple of fixes on some bodies before we head out today, so I left you a present. Enjoy!
PS—make sure you pack up because the bus leaves at 3:00 p.m. sharp.
xx, Evie
“This is suspicious,” I say to myself while staring at the TV.
I’d be irrational not to second-guess her intentions, since my heart’s been getting a full cardiac workout from the time we pulled into the parking lot, pre-fucking-camp.
I scoot off the bed before standing and inspecting the vintage TV. It’s one of those old tube ones from like the eighties. I didn’t even think they made them anymore, but I can see the guy who’s throwing this weird retreat being all in.
The polish on my thumbnail chips as I nervously scratch it. I’m looking for a clue as to whether this thing’s been rigged by Evie and her minions so that, once I turn it on, a child who looks like she’s half dead will actually crawl out and scare me to death.
The thought actually makes me shiver, and my fingers curl into a ball as I whisper, “Hello ... come out if you’re in there.”
I reach out slowly, very slowly, trying to internally prepare myself for any and every possibility, even being shocked. I literally wouldn’t put anything past these freak-ass horror geniuses.
“Please just be a real TV,” I exhale shakily, drawing my hand back right before I almost touch the knob that turns it on.
Is this how I make it work?Shit. I don’t even know how to get rid of my read receipts on my phone, and I’m supposed to figure this out?
But to my surprise, when I pull the knob, not only does nothing happen to me, but the television just powers on.
“Huh,” I let out, surprised, my eyes big.
I stand there for a second, watching the news, still skeptical—as one would be, seeing as I’ve felt like a war’s been waged on me. Finally I back away before turning around to the bed, only glancing over my shoulder a few more times as I crawl back in.
An audible sigh of relief (or maybe leftover disbelief) releases as I give in and fluff my lumpy damn pillow before I grab the remote off the bed.
It’s the size of a brick, but whatever—it works. I press one of the buttons, changing the channel to a morning show, and smile. The picture isn’t 4D, but it’ll do.
Two hours later, I’ve snuck out to the cafeteria to grab some snacks and brought them back like a little squirrel. I’ve been watching a show that I remember my mother watching when I was a child.
God, Evie and I used to make so much fun of the fact that she watched soap operas. They were so dramatic and full of toxic relationships, but baby, I am hooked. This is so much better than watching those gross scary movies Evie loves.
I stuff some chips in my mouth as I point at the screen, talking to it like the people can hear me.
“She’s cheating on you, dum-dum. With your brother. God ... how do you not see the chemistry between them?”
The brunette vixen who everyone seems to be obsessed with begins giving her big monologue, and I’m riveted. But suddenly the picture goes out, turning to snow, before it pops back to normal just as fast.
“Shit.” I frown while shoving more chips in my mouth as the TV does it again. “Uh-uh. No, no, no ... what is happening?”
I sit up and stare as lines start to populate over the show, like the television’s about to take a shit.
“Dammit. Noooo ... I need to know who she picks.”
