Josie linked her arm with mine.
“Welcome to the Green Warriors, Adalyn,” she said in a cheery voice that didn’t match the tone of the girls’ debate. “I’ll show you around town when we wrap up practice. There’s not much to see besides a few shops on Main Street and the Vasquez farm, which is a few miles south, but you’ve made an important acquaintance: me.” She grinned. “And that piece of red velvet is up for grabs if you want it.”
The confirmation that Green Oak was that small of a town wasn’t exactly uplifting, but Josie was nice. And I wasn’t used to people welcoming me with open arms. As much as I’d led a privileged life with hundreds of opportunities that had allowed me to peek into all kinds of social circles, I’d always kept to myself. It wasn’t easy for me to click with people, or perhaps it was me making it hard. Either way, the truth was that, besides Matthew, I didn’t have many people I considered friends.
So I wouldn’t turn away her offer. Or the cake. Being friends with the mayor would come in handy—and I definitely had more curves than Vanessa Hudgens, which had a lot to do with my sweet tooth.
Unfortunately, before I could even open my mouth to accept, one of the kids playing with her phone gasped loudly, drawing our attention.
“Isn’t this Miss Adalyn!?” she all but yelled, pointing at the device. All the girls drew closer. My heart tripped and my eyes widened in alarm. Josie frowned in confusion. “Holy cow.” The kid’s jaw dropped in shock. “Why is she beating the crap out of a giant bird?”
Well, so much for that respite.
* * *
I was on my way to bed when my phone pinged with Matthew’s message ringtone.
Before the silly five-second tune he’d set for himself last time we’d seen each other was up, my phone was in my hand.
MATTHEW: Have you checked socials since we talked? Or at all?
I sat on the edge of the horrendous, and I feared infested, mattress, staring at the screen for a few seconds. We’d talked on the phone a couple of hours earlier, while I was driving back to Lazy Elk from Josie’s Joint. It’d been a short call where I’d brought Matthew up to date—I had cake, possibly made a friend, Grandpa Moe is a charming old man, Green Oak is unbelievably small, there’re lots of outdoorsy things, my philanthropic venture is a children’s team, they already know about Sparkles, one of them wears a tutu. And to that Matthew had said, I told you so. Or an extended version of those four words that encouraged me to pack my things and go back to Miami. I’d hung up on him.
ADALYN: I haven’t been online since the airport. Much to do and reception is spotty.
The three dots jumped on the screen for the longest of moments, making me shift in place and rubbing the worn fabric of the comforter against my bare legs. Unfortunately, I’d only packed a matching set of silk sleeping shorts and a tank top—which was what I always slept in and yet another way in which I’d been uncharacteristically careless. Had I done the proper research and known my rental was going to be covered in things like antlers, dust, and coarse flannel comforters, I would have ordered the thickest, longest pajamas I could find.
MATTHEW: Just keep in mind that I am sending you this because I know you would hate not knowing about it.
That made my stomach drop. He was a shoot-first-and-think-later texter.
ADALYN: Why are you warning me? Just send me the link.
MATTHEW: Before I send it to you I want you to promise me that you will call me the moment you start spiraling.
ADALYN: I don’t spiral.
MATTHEW: Call it what you want.
ADALYN: LINK.
A strange, scratchy noise made me look up from my phone. I inspected the barely lit cabin, wondering if on top of everything else, I also had to deal with some… wild animal sneaking in.
A link popped on the screen.
I clicked and was immediately redirected to TikTok. The clip that started was familiar. I was wearing my burgundy pantsuit now packed in the suitcase under the horribly large antlers hanging on the wall, and my Louboutin heels. The memory might have been blocked or buried somewhere in my head, but I recognized the clip that had flipped my life upside down. I knew what came next. I was about to—
A techno beat started playing. Although it wasn’t a beat. Not really. It was the rip of the polyester of Sparkles’s costume that was being repeated—looped—to create a beat. With horror, I heard more sounds being added to the mix. My grunts. Growls. Squawky sounds that had left me and I couldn’t recall. Paul’s “What the fuck.” All of it. And it was…
“Horrible,” I heard myself whisper.
Appalling. Really.
Because I was a remix now. A song.
My eyes closed as I remained there, the thirty-second techno mix echoing around the cabin in a loop. I felt a burst of pressure climbing up my sternum, and a noise that sounded a lot like a sob left my mouth. But I knew it wasn’t one because I didn’t cry. I wouldn’t. Or couldn’t. So my eyes remained dry.
I reminded myself I was an unbothered queen. A queen of ice.
Then, I swallowed it all up, shook my head, pushed that pressure down, as deep and far as it would go, and returned to my messaging app.
ADALYN: Impressive.
Matthew sent one of those gifs I didn’t understand. But I didn’t ask this time. I was on a mission. This wasn’t important, and I was brushing it off.
ADALYN: So people are in need of more productive things to do with their free time. What’s new?
MATTHEW:…
MATTHEW: You okay?
ADALYN: I’m not spiraling, if that’s what you’re asking.
MATTHEW: You sure? This is a lot. It would be okay if you were… I don’t know. Running naked into the woods screaming bloody murder just out of pure frustration or something.
I rolled my eyes.
ADALYN: That’s very specific.
ADALYN: Is that how you picture someone spiraling? In the nude?
MATTHEW: I picture everyone naked. Even you. I’m a simple man with a simple enough imagination. It’s Occam’s razor theory.
ADALYN: That’s not what Occam’s razor means.
MATTHEW: You know what I mean.
I actually did.
ADALYN: Well, I’m not spiraling. Or naked.
MATTHEW: Okay. I believe you. But… call me if you need me, yeah?
ADALYN: Sure. Good night.
MATTHEW:… You’re such a bad liar. Night, Addy.
Yes. I was lying about both things.
With a sigh, I locked my phone and plugged it into my charger. I rolled on the bed, incapable of shaking that strange pressure off. As much as I tried my hardest not to give it any importance, learning of the remix had affected me. The clip was still getting attention. I was still viral. I was #LadyBirdinator, for crying out loud. And the girls—the kids of the team I was supposed to manage and use to create a success story that would redeem me and buy me a ticket back to Miami—had already found out about it. Josie had laughed it off, even bought my explanation about it being an accident. But it was a matter of time before the whole town knew and saw that video.
A very specific set of green eyes popped into my mind. I don’t think you’ll make it a single night there.
I shook myself, as if that would help shove that man’s face out of my head. I needed to relax if I ever wanted to get any sleep, and Cameron Caldani had the opposite effect. So I focused on loosening up my limbs and tried to keep my mind blank.
The tune of the techno remix slammed right back into me.
“God,” I muttered, reaching out for my AirPods.
I put them in, grabbed my phone, and hit play on a podcast.