“And Isabel?”
She shrugged. “Fun’s over now. I’ll do whatever you guys want.” But I knew what she meant was she’d do whatever Erin wanted.
I looked at Erin. I didn’t feel like talking to her, but it was her turn to make her opinions known. She looked drained, and I thought maybe it was because of our argument earlier. She raised a shoulder. “Whatever,” she said.
So we opened the door to our room.
*
There was something wrong.
I could feel it even before I knew what it was; something about the darkness in the room, the stillness. Rupert P. was still there, but it was too quiet. His head was bent forward, unmoving. I knew the other girls could feel something was wrong too, all except Apple. We all stayed still while she moved forward. She walked up to his chair. “Rupert?” she said.
Silence.
“Rupie?”
The tights weren’t around his mouth anymore. They were wrapped around his neck.
Erin, Isabel, and I may have been the farthest from him, but I think we all got it before Apple did. But when she did get it—when she lifted his head and saw his eyes and mouth bulged open in a silent scream—she was the only one to say it out loud.
“OMG,” Apple said. “He’s dead!”
I know what you’re asking yourself. You’re asking how a group of teenage girls managed to kill the biggest flop in the world’s most popular boy band.
The truth is, I had no idea.
Not right then.
All I knew was what the screams of four hysterical girls reverberating in a very expensive hotel room sounded like. All I could hear was the cacophony of our screeching, and all I could see were arms flailing, tears streaming, hair pulling: the vision of horror. And right in the middle of it—the thing we were avoiding and the source of our hysterics—sat Rupert Pierpont of The Ruperts.
Dead.
I don’t mean it like hashtag-dead. I mean, Rupert P. was literally dead.
I never thought my knees would buckle at the sight of him, but here I was, falling. I sat on the ground as the rest of the girls continued flailing. If you muted them and didn’t stare directly at their faces, it would’ve looked like they were prancing. Seriously, I’d never seen Apple more agile in my life. She was leaping from corner to corner on the balls of her feet, twirling her fingers around strands of her hair. The only way you could tell she was at all distressed was by looking at her features, which kept morphing into twisted, wet shapes. Even Rupert P. looked upset by what was happening.
Shit.
My pocket buzzed, knocking me back into reality. I fished my phone out and there was Mom’s latest text.
How was the dinner, honey?
I looked up and met Rupert P.’s eyes. He was shocked, outraged, forever.
My fingers shook, but I still managed to type out a message.
So yummy.
Mom responded immediately.
Did you remember to thank your friend’s parents?
I scoffed.
Ofc. I’m not a Neanderthal.
Apple bumped into/collapsed against a wall, and the sound snapped me back into reality. Or the nightmare that was my reality. Rupert P. kept looking at me. Where was AdBlock when you needed it?
I put my head between my knees, suddenly feeling light-headed. I took deep breaths. I tried to think. FYI, it is very hard to think in a room full of screaming girls, especially if you’re one of them.
“Stop screaming.”
None of them heard me. It wasn’t their fault—I might have whispered it. I made eye contact with Apple, the loudest of all of us. “Apple, stop screaming.” She crouched down beside me, got in my face, and yelled, “I CAN’T!”
“If we don’t stop screaming people will hear us and send someone!”
That did it. Our screaming turned into silent heaving as we tried to compose ourselves.
“How did this happen?” Erin said.
“Who was in here last?” Isabel said.
“We’re going to need a polyethylene plastic bin and a few gallons of acid,” Apple said. We stared at her. “I watched Breaking Bad, I know how to get rid of a body!”
For the first time we had just acknowledged that Rupert P. was no longer a person. He was a body. And all of us realized it at the same moment. Though it was just a small moaning at first, the screaming was gearing up again, deep from all of us.
“Everybody calm down!”