“It’s going to sound crazy. You’re all going to think I’m crazy.”
Will and I exchanged a glance. “You have a long way to go before we would even consider that thought.”
“A long way,” Will added. “Your Ms. L there got locked in the toilet, and I didn’t think any less of her.”
I tried hard not to roll my eyes. “Just tell us what happened.”
“So the door shut, and I tried to open it. But it was like it was locked. I tried to fiddle with the lock, but that didn’t help. And then—all of a sudden—it was dark. Like, pitch black. I couldn’t see anything. Then there was a wind—a howling wind. Everything went floating around me and things were hitting me. It felt like fists—like people were there. Pulling my hair and”—she heaved, then pressed a hand over her bottom lip—“and punching me. There was like, lightning or something cracking and every once in a while that would make it light. There was no one there, Ms. L—no one but me, but I could feel people. And something was written on the board—it looked like, it looked like—”
“Get out?” I offered.
Miranda nodded, her eyes the size of teacups. “How did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess.”
“Then what happened?” Vlad asked her.
“Well, there was a giant crack. I was yanking on the door and as soon as I heard that, everything stopped. The room was normal again, there was nothing on the board, no wind. The door opened right up and I ran. I ran all the way out of the school and to the bus stop. I didn’t even know there was—” Miranda gingerly touched her fingertips to her puffed eye. “I didn’t even know there was anything on my face until the bus driver asked what happened.”
“What made you come here?” Will asked.
Vlad shot him a scathing look. “She was traumatized.”
“I’m just asking.”
“Yeah, what—I mean, I’m glad that you did—but why did you decide to come here?”
Miranda’s lower lip trembled and she looked into her lap again. “My mom works nights. I didn’t want to go home.” She looked up at me, her eyes desperate and imploring. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Not to a mate’s or something?” Will asked.
Vlad gritted his teeth. “She said she didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Miranda started to sniff again—another round of heavy tears.
“Look what you did!” Vlad snapped.
I nudged him away and slung an arm around Miranda, pulling her toward me. “You did the right thing coming here, Miranda. Everything is going to be okay. You’re safe now.”
Will steadied his gaze and I avoided it.
“There’s something else, Ms. L,” Miranda whispered into my hair.
“What is it, honey?”
Miranda pulled back and looked at Will and Vlad, then back at me. “We can go to my room,” I said, taking her hand.
I closed the door behind us, and Miranda started when ChaCha sprang from the covers and growled.
“Oh, don’t worry about her,” I said, snatching her up. “She’s my half-pint attack dog.”
The edges of Miranda’s lips quirked up into the beginning of a smile. “She’s cute.”
“You can pet her,” I offered, swinging ChaCha within arm’s reach. Miranda reached out tentatively, but ChaCha growled again, showing off her Tic Tac–sized bottom teeth.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry about her; she’s very protective of my bed.” I set ChaCha down and the terrifying thing buried her way into my covers, her little butt and stub tail disappearing last.
“Animals always seem to hate me,” Miranda said wistfully. “Even my gerbil ran away.”
We sat in silence for an uncomfortable beat until Miranda sucked in a breath. “I didn’t want to tell them.” She jutted her head toward the living room. “I didn’t want to show them.”
“What?”
She swallowed slowly and I could see her hands tremble as she pulled up her hoodie—slowly, painfully. There were fresh scratches on her hands, the deepest ones across her knuckles where blood had pooled and dried. Miranda dropped her sweatshirt on my floor, then slowly began to unbutton the blouse underneath.
Suddenly, there was no air. Everything pressed against me and the beating of my heart threatened to shatter me, to break me right open.
“Oh, Miranda.”
I couldn’t tear my eyes from the puckered flesh on her abdomen. The skin at the edges of the fresh cuts was turning up, the edges purple and fragile like the torn edges of paper. Everything swirled into a watery mess, and I stepped back, feeling my way to sit back on the bed as bile burned up the back of my throat and my own blood pulsed through my ears.
Miranda’s abdomen pulsed when she breathed, the freshly carved words, you’re next, a ghastly, skin-deep warning that chilled me to my core.
I cleaned Miranda’s wounds and then set her up in a pair of my old sweats. She was now huddled with Vlad behind his laptop, his hand over hers as her brand-new BloodLust avatar sunk its fangs into its first human flesh.