“Here.” She tosses me another flashlight, which I narrowly catch. It’s heavier than I expect it to be and powerful enough to make me wince when I peek at the beam head-on. Kiki points hers toward the staircase. “I think we have some candles in the attic.” She heads for the stairs but pauses and turns to look at Carla when she doesn’t follow.
“I’m not going to the attic,” Carla protests, crossing her arms firmly. “That shit’s creepy in the daytime.”
Kiki glares at her best friend, but I can sense something unsaid passing between the two of them. Communicating in a wordless language that only they know, not unlike when we were in the hot tub. The heat of Kiki’s gaze is enough to make me shift uncomfortably. I’m considering walking away, wondering if I should give them some privacy, when Carla finally gives in with a groan. She stomps across the room and follows Kiki up the stairs.
I linger in the kitchen after they disappear from view. Above me I can hear the creak of their footsteps along the carpeted second-floor hallway and the hum of a whispered conversation, but soon I’m plunged into absolute silence. Again.
Alone and unsure what to do, I try to make myself useful. I open more drawers and cabinets, looking for anything else we could use as a light source. I have no clue what goes into fixing a fuse box, but I gather all the tools I find on the kitchen counter in case Kai might need them. I keep expecting to hear more signs of Kiki and Carla hovering above me, or maybe Kai and Timothy coming back from outside, but there’s no sign of life other than my own. No footsteps. No murmurs.
Until a sudden, thundering crash.
The floor trembles and the frames on the staircase rattle. On instinct I let out a scream, only to clamp my hand aroundmy mouth to muffle it. As if I’m worried about someone finding me, even though I know I’m all alone.
I press myself as far up against the wall as I can, scanning my flashlight across the room for any signs of what could’ve made the noise. Nothing is out of place except for the dust floating through the air. Hesitantly, I take a step toward the stairs. Wait. Listen for any cries for help from Kiki or Carla. But it’s so quiet that if my heart wasn’t pounding out of my chest, I might think I’d made up the sound entirely.
Maybe it came from outside, I tell myself as I give the room one more sweep with the flashlight. Nothing emerges from behind the couch or the trees gently swaying in the breeze outside. I’m still alone.
Once I’m sure nothing is lurking in the shadows to come get me, I take another step toward the stairs. My phone is still upstairs in my bag, and we could use another light source. Even if it means braving the dark alone—and whatever notifications may be waiting for me. I’m careful to keep my steps as light as possible in case Kiki or Carla couldn’t cry for help because something—or someone—made sure they couldn’t. It’s a silly, outlandish thought, but we’ve already made one rookie mistake by splitting up, and I don’t plan to make another.
At the landing, I’m able to make out the outline of the attic door in the ceiling. Completely sealed shut. My brows furrow in confusion when hushed whispers suddenly catch my attention.
I switch off my flashlight before I reach the top step, just in case, moving as quietly as I possibly can. My breath hitches when I notice a strip of light coming from an open door. I press myself into the shadows and crane my neck toward the voices.
“It wasn’t funny,” Kiki says just loud enough for me to make out.
My entire body stiffens as I realize my mistake. Of course it wasn’t an intruder—how would they have gotten into the cabin without us noticing? Biting my lip, I push myself farther into the dark and away from the door as I map out an escape plan. I could try to make a break for the stairs, but that runs the risk of them noticing me. And there’s no way to explain why I came up just to turn back around.
Going past them isn’t an option either, with their door wide open. Based on the light spilling out of the room they must have their flashlight sitting on some piece of furniture. Sure, I still need my phone, but that can at least wait until I don’t look like I’m eavesdropping on their conversation.
“It was a joke, Ki,” Carla protests, sounding exasperated and farther away. “Andyou’rethe one who took it too far.”
I’m not sure why I do it. Why I linger when I know I should leave. Maybe it’s because I’m not any better than the kids at our school—that I’m as desperate for gossip as everyone who followed my father’s trial like it was the latest hit TV show. Or, maybe, it’s because of the knot that formed in my stomach as soon as I heard Kiki’s voice. The sinking feeling that they might be talking about me.
Kiki scoffs, her footsteps urgent and steady and her shadow passing in and out of the flashlight’s beam with a startling consistency. She must be pacing. “Right, because you have no idea that Timothy’s been cheating on you since day one.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Kiki’s shadow stills. Slowly, her crossed arms fall to her sides. “Then what did you mean?”
“I think you know…” Carla’s voice is so low I almost can’t make out her response. There’s a strangely playful edge to hertone—I can almost picture the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she says it.
By now it’s clear they’re not talking about me. I should leave before I hear something I shouldn’t, but I don’t move. And neither does Kiki, her shadow finally standing still.
Kiki doesn’t respond for so long my spine starts to ache from the way I’ve arched against the wall to hear more clearly. I’m not sure if they’re ignoring each other or having another one of their stare offs, but footsteps break the tension between them. In the flashlight’s glow I watch Kiki’s and Carla’s shadows meet each other halfway. They stall in front of each other, holding for a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment before they collide. Fingers tangling in each other’s hair and clutching each other’s waists as their mouths crash together. Even from the hallway I can feel the hunger as they move against each other—the wet sounds of hurried kisses and quiet moans as they break from each other’s mouths to explore jaws and necks and the shells of their ears. Their movements so frantic and their bodies pressed so tightly together that I can’t tell whose shadow is whose anymore.
Grabbing my flashlight off the ground, I scramble up as quickly and quietly as I can—the spell of wanting to know more finally broken. The carpet pads my footsteps, and Kiki and Carla are thankfully too wrapped up in one another to see the shadow of my hair whip by as I run past the door. I head for my bedroom at the end of the hall as fast as I dare. I’ve already intruded more than I should have, and the faster I leave them alone, the better.
Just as I’m about to reach for the knob, a crash stops me in my tracks. Just like before, I let out a choked sound of surprise, my body acting on pure adrenaline and fear. Immediately, Iclamp my hand around my mouth again, as I turn around to check for the source of the noise.
“C’mon, those things cost like a hundred bucks,” Kiki complains, and I watch her shadow pick something up off the floor. A doll whose face has been shattered, based on the outline of their shadows.
But Carla doesn’t respond, instead, her shadow grows bigger as she inches toward the door. “Did you hear that?” she whispers, sending my heart straight into the pit of my stomach.
My hand stiffens where it’s clamped around the doorknob, tightening its grip until my fingers start to ache. Opening the door means making more noise—drawing more attention. So I stay as still as I possibly can, hoping they won’t notice me frozen in the shadowed hallway. An animal hiding from its predator.
Still as I manage to be, I know I’m caught the second Carla steps out into the hallway. Before I can turn the knob and throw the door open, she’s sprinted over, yanking me back by the arm. Her grip tight enough to make me yelp.
“What the fuck are you doing?” she shouts so close to my ear I wince.