I went to Apple’s bag next. It was humongous, and I was already dreading having to go through all her things, but when I pulled back the zipper there was—no joke—nothing but popcorn inside. Loose popcorn, a seemingly endless supply, spilling out of the bag like she’d just raided a concession stand.
I went to Erin’s bag next. There were overnight clothes and a red bikini that opened in the front. I guess she thought there’d be time for swimming on this stalking trip. I didn’t expect to find much else in Erin’s things, except I sort of did. Unbelievably, there was a tiny dagger in Erin’s bag, hidden in a side pocket. It was about the size of my pinkie, attached to a silver chain, its edge about as sharp as that of a spoon, but it was a dagger nonetheless. I recognized it immediately. It was an exact replica of the dagger Rupert X. used to wear around his neck. Any Strepur would remember it; he’d famously posed with it between his teeth for a Rolling Stone photo shoot. In the black-and-white photograph Rupert X. had been shirtless, the dagger necklace the only thing he’d worn. I didn’t know Erin got a necklace that looked just like it. I wondered why she never wore it.
“Oi, where’d you go?” Rupert P. yelled from the other room. “Waiting to be set free here!”
I came back to stand before him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t find anything sharp.” The dagger was just a charm, too tiny, the edge too dull. Useless.
Rupert P.’s head rolled back, resting on the top of the chair. “You were only teasing me.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You were never going to let me go.”
“I was. I am.”
“My nose itches,” Rupert P. said suddenly. “Will you scratch it for me?”
I walked forward and scratched his nose with my right index finger. I didn’t see it coming when he grabbed my left hand. Even though his forearm was tied to the armrest, he could still reach his fingers out, and they wrapped themselves around my wrist. His grip was strong. I couldn’t shake free of him.
“Let me go!”
“I heard that one before,” Rupert P. said. “Oh yes, it was me saying it. Not so fun now, is it?”
I pulled my arm, but it was like it was trapped in an iron cuff. “Is your kidnapping of me just a deep-seated manifestation of your daddy issues?”
I froze, my arm going limp in his grip. “What?”
“Your bracelet.” He turned up his nose like he’d just smelled something bad. “It says ‘Daddy.’ ”
I looked down at my arm, his fingers digging into my wrist, my bracelet peeking through between them. He must’ve been able to see in the crack between the blindfold and his nose.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“Does he spoil you rotten?”
I tried wrenching my hand free again.
“Is he the shoulder you cry on whenever people surely make fun of you for being a weirdo?”
“Don’t talk about my father.”
“I hope I’m not out of line when I tell you that wearing a ‘Daddy’ bracelet is absolutely the creepiest kind of jewelry a girl could wear,” Rupert P. said. “You must get loads of dates.”
“It’s something to remember him by.”
I shouldn’t have said it. I knew I shouldn’t have said it when Rupert P. turned his face up, looking directly at me, even with the blindfold on, and smiled. “So he’s dead, then.”
I didn’t answer. I guess that was confirmation enough for him.
“Let me guess,” Rupert P. said. “The Ruperts have personally touched your life in a very trying time, yeah? Has Rupert K. taken over the role of the most important man in your life now? That’s rather disturbing? Call it armchair psychology if you must, but I am in an armchair and in the presence of a psycho. I think that means I have some authority on the matter. No, you’re not spoiled rotten. You’re just a rotten girl.”
I yanked my hand with enough force that I stumbled back. My arm finally came free of his hold, but his fingers still clutched my bracelet. I landed on the floor with a pathetic thud just as the elastic broke. The white beads that spelled out “Daddy” spurted onto the ground, bouncing all over the carpet and rolling away from me.
“Your daddy would be so proud.”
I want to tell you that his words didn’t affect me at all, that he was just saying mean things because he was pressed about being tied up, obviously. But that wouldn’t be very honest of me. I wiped my cheeks as soon as I felt them become wet.
I got on my hands and knees and crawled, collecting all the beads I could find, and the string, even though it was broken. And then I crawled toward Rupert P. and grabbed the knot again, blinking back my tears so I could better focus on the task of untying him. You’re probably wondering how I could be nice to him after the things he’d just said. But this wasn’t just about being nice. At that point I just wanted to set Rupert P. free so that I wouldn’t have to hear him talk anymore.
The knot was coming loose when I heard the door open behind me. I’d hardly turned around to see who it was before Apple was on top of me.
“What were you just doing?” she said.
“Get off me!” I said.
“Were you about to molest my Rupie?!”