Bianca Torre Is Afraid of Everything, page 25
Kate: can’t wait for you to see the puppet looks so good
Oh no no no no.
“Well, that was before I knew the reasoning,” I say weakly, but she doesn’t seem to buy it.
“You lied,” Jillian says slowly. “How many people know about Valley Quail?”
“Just us,” I say. “Mostly me. And, well, Kate.”
And Ronan. And Kate’s sophomore mentee? Maybe that’s a stretch.
Can she tell that I’m literally thinking about how I’m lying now?
“I see,” Jillian says. She turns to the rest of the Flock. “It looks like we go through with attending the musical tonight. Red-Winged Blackbird is in charge of ticket sales, so we can use that petty cash to hem the new robes.”
“Jillian, I was wrong before,” I say. “I didn’t know, but now . . .”
She gives me a glare. “Too late for that.” Her expression is hard as she looks back at the rest of the cloaked group. “I hear the show is great,” Jillian says. “It’s a shame that the leading lady dies at the end.”
She tightens the grip on her gun. I know the plot of Little Shop of Horrors enough now to know that the character of Audrey does actually die, but that’s definitely not what Jillian seems to be implying. My stomach clenches.
No. They’re going to go after Kate.
“She wants to be a good actress, right?” Jillian teases. “I’ll make her death scene a little more method.”
Kate revealed what she knew, and now they want to silence her too? Would they actually kill her when her character is supposed to die in the show?
“No,” I say. “No, please . . .”
Jillian ignores me. “We’ll return for judgment after the play. Meeting adjourned,” she says. “Ca-caw!”
“Ca-caw!” the Flock responds, before they slowly exit the room and head up a staircase, until only Jillian remains.
“I never wanted it to come to this . . .” she says. “I don’t like violence, you know. But I had to be born a human.”
“You don’t like violence, but you killed two people. Maybe more.” I shake my head. “Nate was one of you.”
“Nate betrayed us!” Jillian snaps. “If he actually cared, he wouldn’t have tried to turn us in and ruin everything we built. Besides, he’s free now, Bianca. Can’t you see that?” Her eyes shine with tears as she puts on a smile. “Just like you’ll be.”
She steps toward me and uses the barrel of the gun to tilt my chin up to her face. The metal is cold against my skin. My heart beats wildly in my chest. Elaine and Anderson say something, voices pleading, but I can’t make out the words.
It’s just me and Jillian, and the gun between us.
“Guess I’m not getting that internship, huh?”
She narrows her red-rimmed eyes. “Those are terrible last words.”
I can’t move. I don’t know what to do. Is this really the end?
“What would be better?” I ask, voice low. “I’m sorry? I’ve always looked up to you, and it really sucks that you want me dead?”
She doesn’t move the gun, but uses her other hand to wipe her eyes.
“Of course I don’t want you dead, but what am I supposed to do?” Her voice echoes around the room as she takes a deep breath. “I have to kill you. Just like Nate. Just like Steven. No loose ends.”
My mind flies in circles, trying to think of any way to save myself, but I’m out of options. The only thing I can do is try to convince Jillian.
“Belted kingfishers spend most of their time alone,” I say. “I was a lot like that, and maybe you were too. Maybe that’s why we got along so well.” My voice trembles a little. “You don’t have to be alone, Jillian.”
“I’m not,” she says, moving her finger to the trigger. “I have the Flock.”
My eyes squeeze shut. I can’t help it.
“No,” I hear her say. “I can’t.”
I open my eyes to see the tears streaking her pale face. The hand holding the gun drops to her side.
“I can’t . . .” she repeats, shoulders shaking. She tries to compose herself. “Someone else will have to do it later. It’s not like you five are going anywhere.”
I can’t argue that. I’m glad for the extra time, and for my brain matter to not be splattered against the wall.
“Please don’t hurt my sister,” I say weakly, as if I can ask for more.
She looks down to me. “I really liked you, Bianca. And it would have been so good.” She wipes at her face. “I’ll pray that you’ll join us in the next life.” A fresh tear spills down her cheek as she gives a sad smile. “I wish things could have been different in this one.”
With that, Jillian leaves, heading up the stairs. The five of us are alone and tied up.
My own eyes fill and my heart nearly pounds out of my chest.
I thought I was afraid before, but I had no idea what fear was.
What was I thinking getting into this?
I’m nothing more than a lesbian sheep, who keeps finding new things to be afraid of.
Fear #67: Not Being Able to Save My Sister
Thirty-Two
Real-Life Escape Room
Jillian took my phone, and the rest of the cult members grabbed everyone else’s, so it’s not like we can contact anyone. Plus, our parents seem to think we’re just fine.
The cuckoo clock goes off again, the little bird shooting out of the wooden clock as the noise plays.
“It can’t be six,” Anderson groans. “I’m dying.”
Six. Kate’s show starts in a half hour. I don’t even have the full length of a musical before my sister gets a hit taken out on her.
“What did they give us?” Elaine asks. “That we’ve been out for so long?”
“They have vets and doctors in this group,” Terrance says. “Who knows?”
“They’re after my sister,” I say. “We need to get out . . . we need . . .” My eyes start burning. I don’t know what we can do. I feel more trapped than I’ve ever been.
“We have to think of a creative way to get out of here,” Elaine says. “Like an escape room.”
Fear #54: Escape Rooms
Which seems a lot more valid now, though I’m assuming this is much worse.
Anderson looks at Elaine. “Something tells me the cult didn’t leave riddles and puzzles to guide us to the exit.”
“No, but there has to be something . . .” Elaine starts scanning the room, looking for inspiration.
We’re not in the same lineup as before, as we’ve tried to scoot our way toward the staircase. Unfortunately, we didn’t make much progress in the past forty minutes or so. They really bound us tight to these chairs.
My stomach growls, but even if I had food, I’d probably throw it up at this point.
“See anything?” Margaret asks.
Elaine doesn’t answer, which isn’t a good sign.
But there has to be some way out. I can’t let us starve and die in our own held-in urine. I was the one to get us into this mess and I should be the one to get us out of it.
How to do so is another story.
All there is in this room is the cuckoo clock and the weird statue with the swords.
My eyes widen. The bottom sword is basically wrist level for me. It’s not that far from where I am now.
“The sword,” I say. “Do you think it will cut through the rope?”
The rest of the group looks over at the statue.
“It’s worth a try,” Anderson says.
Scooting around in a chair while being tied to it certainly isn’t easy, but my feet are secured enough to keep them down while still being able to move a little. It takes a long time, and the scratching sound is horrible, but I’m able to get to the statue. The sword is just a little high for my arms to reach, but I should be able to get it if I can lift myself up slightly. I try to land on my legs, which are tied together but not to the chair, but they are slightly crossed so I have no balance. I’ll have to free my feet first.
Turning the chair around in little jumps, I lift my bound legs and stretch them up to the sword. Although the back of the chair digs into my skin, I pull my knees back and forth to rub the rope over the blade.
It starts fraying.
I keep going, and it takes a good amount of time, but finally, the ropes snap and loosen enough for my legs to be free.
“Bianca, you’re a genius!” Elaine says.
“But why the hell couldn’t you have been a genius an hour ago?” Anderson groans.
I don’t respond to him or the encouraging comments from Terrance and Margaret.
Now I have to turn around and free my hands, which will be a lot easier now that I can use my feet.
I look at the sword, which is covered in a huge spiderweb.
Oh no. Do they not clean down here?
I scan the web to look at the sword edge. A large black spider around the size of a quarter is right there.
Fear #2: Spiders
“Um . . . maybe someone else can do it . . .” I start.
“What?” Anderson asks. “Why? You’re right there.”
My skin is literally crawling. Even my scalp is itchy. I turn to face my head toward Anderson.
“There’s a spider,” I mumble.
“What?”
“There’s a spider!” I say, voice now carrying through the room.
The four of them look at me like I suddenly did turn into a bird.
“Bianca, honey,” Terrance says. “It’s a little thing, it can’t hurt you.”
“Not to mention, your sister might die,” Anderson adds, because a best friend calls someone out.
He’s right. They both are.
It’s a spider. It can’t do anything to me. What’s actually important is getting out of here and to the school before the musical finale.
I plant my feet on the ground to support my weight, leaning forward in a squat so that the chair legs lift. I feel around with my bound hands for the edge of the sword and manage to get the ropes in contact with the blade.
I move my arms up and down, willing the rope to fray quickly.
A little tingle moves onto my fingers, exactly like spider legs.
Why why why?
My first reaction is to flail my arm out and hope the spider is thrown, but with them tied, there’s not anything I can do. And I don’t want to accidentally cut my skin instead of the rope.
Tears pour from my eyes as I force myself to keep sawing, the spider moving up to my forearm.
I swallow my scream, but there’s nothing I can do about the crying.
Finally, right as the spider nears my elbow, close enough that I can make out a red mark, my wrist is freed, and I swipe at it and shake my arm.
“Is it gone is it off is it off?” I squeal.
“Yeah, I saw it fly off,” Terrance says.
“Are you sure? Was it a black-and-red one?” My skin tingles up my back. Where is it? Is it still on me? It has to be. No no no.
“Yes, he’s sure, look!” Anderson gestures to my side with his chin.
“Oh,” I say, stopping my motion. I glance to the floor, where the spider scurries away, but that doesn’t stop my skin from crawling and my body visibly shaking.
“Although if it was a black widow, it actually could have hurt you,” Terrance adds thoughtfully.
All the blood feels like it drains from my face. “What?”
“You did it! Yay, Bianca!” Anderson interrupts and breaks out into whoops.
The four cheer from the back of the room as I remove the ropes around my stomach, and I’m finally free. Shaken up, crying, and wanting to burn a layer or two of skin, but free. I leave the chair behind me and walk back toward them. My vision spots black and I stumble a bit.
I’ve been sitting for too long, or it’s an effect of being drugged.
I manage to steady myself and untie Elaine first. I have to get dangerously close to touching her butt when I work the rope around her wrists. My hand definitely brushes it, and I blush.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Next time, buy me a drink first,” she teases.
Now my face heats even more. “If we get out of this alive, sure.”
Once she’s free, we untie Margaret and Terrance, and then get Anderson last because with his one hand out of commission, he couldn’t help with the untying.
Once untied, we sneak up the stairs, exiting into the Jamba Juice bathroom. Well. At least we know where we are.
We race into the store, moving as a group into the smoothie place. We’re a sight as we enter from the bathroom hallway, worse for wear, half of us with head wounds.
“What time is it?” I practically scream to the person at the register. He’s white and barely looks eighteen, staring with wide eyes and potentially some fear.
“Um . . . six fifty-five?”
The show already started. I think the run time is about two hours total, so they have to be somewhere in the first act. Still, I’m not sure when in act two Kate’s death scene is, so we have to get to the school fast.
Margaret walks up to the worker and pulls out a fifty from her wallet. “I will give you this if you get these kids a Lyft to their high school and call the police.”
He blinks, lips parting a little before he swallows to speak. “I’ll take it for the Lyft, but we’ll call the cops for free.”
Anderson gives the worker our high school information before running back into the bathroom.
“Why are you going back?” I snap.
“Do you want me to pee in the car?” he calls back as the door closes.
I twist to Terrance and Margaret. “You two can handle the police?”
“We’ll handle it,” Margaret says.
“In case you need to get back down there, the pass code in the bathroom is 2018. At least, it was.”
Terrance nods. “Got it, now go save your sister.”
The Jamba Juice worker gives Elaine and me the Lyft information, and Anderson is back before Steve K. picks us up in his white Toyota Prius.
Props to him for not saying anything about our appearances. He drives well, but doesn’t ask much at all. I hope Terrance convinces the Jamba Juice guy to give five stars.
The parking lot of the high school is filled. We have no choice but to go in through the main entrance, as every other door will be locked. We try to keep back, and I peer around the corner to where the auditorium entrance is.
Jeffrey sits at the ticket table. Of course. Ms. Richards was volunteering for ticket sales—she was probably signed up to steal profits and recruited him to help. It must’ve made it easier for the rest of the cult to show up now.
“How do we get past him?” I ask.
“Bianca? Oh, and Anderson!” I turn to the musical voice calling out to us.
Queen Elizabeth. In an emerald-green dress and with her gray hair tied in a neat updo.
When we look back, her expression shifts into something of concern. “My dears, what happened to you?”
“It’s makeup,” I say, “to support, the uh . . . show.” It’s not a great excuse, so I try to change the subject. “What are you doing here, Florence?”
She smiles. “Why, I always support the local theater, I adore musicals.” She clasps her hands together over the program. “And your sister is marvelous. The first act was wonderful. The second act is starting now, I believe.”
Thank God, we just missed intermission. Audrey has to be alive. But we’re cutting it super close.
“I’m so glad you came,” I say, and I really mean it, as I don’t think Jeffrey can do anything with Florence right here. “Why don’t we walk you back in?”
“Oh, I’d love that,” Florence says. “We must catch up after the show. Verdi and Poochie adore you both.” She turns to Elaine. “Also, where are my manners? Hello, dear, I’m Florence. I’m a neighbor of Anderson and Bianca.”
“Great to meet you,” Elaine says.
Elaine is really adaptable.
Anderson holds out his good arm for Florence to take, and we huddle around her as she escorts us to the auditorium. I sneak a glance toward Jeffrey, but he’s engrossed in something on his phone. Sure, there probably aren’t many tickets to sell with the preview halfway over, but he’s being a little obvious with how much he doesn’t care.
I’m grateful, though, because it gets us into the theater unnoticed.
Florence returns to her seat with a promise to catch us after the show, as the three of us huddle in the last aisle. They’re doing “Call Back in the Morning,” the first song of act two, so we still have time.
“Do you see anyone else?” I whisper.
“They’re harder to spot in normal clothes,” Elaine mutters.
“Where the hell are they?” Anderson says, a bit too loud. He gets a few shushes from those seated around us.
That’s when Jillian, sitting at the opposite end of the row, looks over directly at us.
“Shit,” we all say at once.
Jillian gets up, pulls out her phone, and makes a beeline for the tech booth. She’s a lot closer to it than we are.
“I’ll go after her,” Anderson says. He starts off.
“I’m going to go to Kate,” I say as an automatic response. I look at Elaine. “Maybe go back out and wait for the police. There’s a side entrance that’s usually locked, but you can slip out.”
I point to where it is. Thank God Kate made me help with a few set builds.
“Got it,” she says. Before heading toward the door, she looks back at me. “Try not to die, you promised me a hike.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” My heart flutters between nervous thumps. She starts to step off. “Elaine?”
She twists to me.
A few things I could tell her swim through my frantic mind, but I settle on a “be safe.”
Elaine smiles and then she’s off.
Now that Jillian knows we are here, she probably won’t wait until the end to make her move.
I have to get backstage and warn Kate.
The music is loud in my ears. I try to make myself as small as possible as I walk along the wall down the outer aisle and slip behind the edge of the curtain. I have to climb onto the stage, and I shimmy closer to the back.
