“Drink?” Carla offers as she pours one for herself from the makeshift bar they’ve set up on top of the dresser. Dozens of bottles of liquors, sodas, and juices are lined up between crumpled receipts and half-melted candles bathing the room in a soft orange glow.
The normalcy of it all makes the back of my neck prickle. They’re acting as if Kiki didn’t threaten me less than an hour ago. Like we’re not stuck in this cabin in the dark in the middle of the storm. Like we’re not strangers.
“Sure,” I say before I can regret it. Going along with whatever they want is the safer bet, and maybe a few careful sips will at least make playing along come more naturally.
“Pick your poison.” Carla gestures to the array of options.
My stomach tightens, and I quickly cross my arms across my middle. “Not tequila.”
Carla nods before picking up a clear bottle from the end of the lineup. “Gin it is.”
While Kiki finishes tidying up the room and Carla works on my drink, the storm rages on. Flashes of lightning make us all jump, followed by rumbles of thunder that seem three times as loud as they had been earlier in the night. The rain is coming down hard enough to even drown out the steadybadumof my heart echoing in my ears.
“That asshole better be back soon,” Carla mutters as she pulls aside the lace curtain covering the window beside the bed.
“Timothy’s still not back?” I ask.
I’d assumed Timothy would’ve shown up while Kai and I were in my room. It would’ve been difficult to find his way to the cabin before the storm started, but now getting back would be nearly impossible. Between the wind and the mud covering his tracks, if he’s not lost by now, he will be if he doesn’t get back ASAP. As much as I don’t want to be locked in the same space with him, I’d never wish for someone to be stranded in the woods in this kind of storm.
Not to mention that him getting back means me getting out of here. And with Kiki subtly pushing the door to the room closed, I hear Mikey’s voice echoing in my ears again.You’re not safe there.
“Not yet,” Carla says without looking away from the window. From the way she chews on her glossy lower lip and her fingers tap a rapid beat against her arm, I can tell she’s as uneasy as I am.
“Should we go looking for him?” I suggest, unsure why we haven’t already.
“In the pouring rain? No thank you,” Kiki says as casually as if we were talking about going out to find a lost lip gloss instead of a person. She softens when she catches sight of Carla, though. “He’s probably hiding out somewhere until the storm passes.”
“Right…” But Carla doesn’t seem convinced, still gazing out the window.
Kiki wraps an arm around Carla’s shoulders, squeezing her to her side. “He’ll be fine,” she whispers as she gently pulls Carla away from the window.
Carla’s gaze lingers on the woods until Kiki sits her down on the edge of the bed and hands her the drink she’d been making me. While Carla chugs her half-finished concoction, Kiki does the honors of pouring me a new drink, handing it over with a smirk.
“Face mask or lip mask?” Kiki asks as I take my first sip.
The abrupt change in topic nearly makes me choke on my drink. “W-what?” I croak out between coughs, the alcohol stinging its way down my already-dry throat.
“What do you want to start with?” Kiki holds up a variety of pastel-colored packages, each of them with an over-the-top illustration. Rapunzel-like hair and lips so plump they look like sausages.
“Uh, lip mask,” I reply, my chest aching from the combined burn of another round of coughs and alcohol.
“Great choice,” she praises before guiding me toward the freshly cleared-off vanity.
She sets down the array of products in her arms, busying herself with tearing open the lip mask package. In the vanity mirror’s reflection, I watch as Carla finishes off her drink with a wince, wiping the corner of her mouth and shaking herselfslightly. The chug seems to have done the trick, her eyes alight with a new kind of fire instead of the concern that kept her glued to the window. All thoughts of Timothy seem to be abandoned as she slinks toward the vanity and perches herself over my shoulder. Meanwhile, I find myself wishing to whatever deity is listening that he’ll get back soon. That I get toleavesoon.
Unlike Kai, their smiles are harder to believe. Their sincerity is laced with hints of who they really are—the cruel mean girls who rule the student body on their perfectly crafted campaign of fear.
“You have such nice lips,” Carla praises, running her fingertips along her own. “Mine were basically nonexistent until I begged my mom for lip filler for my sixteenth.”
I can’t help but examine my own lips in the mirror, cheeks flushing as I realize they’re still swollen from earlier. Pink and chapped from being occupied with Kai’s for so long. I glance quickly over at Kiki as she opens up a light pink tube of clear gel and taps a bit onto her wrist before turning to me, wondering if she can tell the difference. What has changed about me.
Kiki leans toward me, a glob of the thick clear cream on her fingertip. I hold my breath as she dabs the cream across my lips, so close I can smell the tequila lingering on her breath. I follow orders when she instructs me to rub my lips together. I’d watched her pump out the cream from a standard labeled tube. If they’re planning something like Mikey warned, it probably isn’t this. Not unless they managed to sneak something into a fully sealed tube.
Small beads mixed into the cream scrape my dry lips, making them feel more raw than they did when we started. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror I almost laugh at the absurdity of my reflection—my lips plumped and swollen like a dead fish. Out ofcontext, I must look like I got stung by a bee, or had a serious allergic reaction to something. If this is what they’re up to—making me look like a monster just to make fun of me, or take pictures and spread it around the school, so be it. I’ve been through worse. And at least I’ll be able to breathe a little easier knowing the worst is over. That I can still make it home unscathed.
Carla drags a beanbag from the opposite end of the room toward the vanity, collapsing onto it and spilling some of her drink down the front of the deep red tube dress she’s pulled on over her swimsuit. The drink doesn’t stain though, the front of her chest already wet from the outline of her bikini top.
“So, Kai really likes you,” she says with a mischievous grin, arching an eyebrow at me as she takes another sip.