Final Girl Michelle Schusterman (the gingerbread man read aloud TXT) 📖

and Jess were sitting close together, watching something on Dad’s iPad. Lidia was on her phone, finger pressed to her other ear, brow furrowed. Mi Jin had her laptop out and was typing furiously. Sam had dozed off with his head on Roland’s shoulder, and Roland was reading a paperback he’d bought in the airport’s bookstore. The title looked really long and dull; I could only make out the words Clinical and Human.

“You should tell Roland.”

Oscar frowned at me. “What? Why?”

“Because he’s a therapist. No, seriously,” I said when Oscar wrinkled his nose. “That’s what he did before the show. He had patients, and a lot of people go see a therapist because something happened to them. You know, something traumatic. And I know Roland’s sarcastic and weird sometimes, but he’s really good at this kind of thing.”

“Have you talked to him about stuff like this before?”

“Yeah, I talked to him about my parents’ divorce a little.” I grinned. “And back when we first met, I told him I didn’t like you. And he told me it was because we were too alike . . . which was true.” Oscar rolled his eyes again, but his lips curved up a tiny bit. “But seriously, I think he’d have some good advice for you.”

Oscar looked over at Roland, and so did I. He looked up from his book, eyebrows arched questioningly.

“Can I help you?”

I glanced at Oscar, then shrugged. “I was just saying that your book looks really boring.”

Roland sniffed. “I’ll have you know that this chapter on third generation cognitive behavioral therapy techniques is a literal roller coaster.”

Before I could reply, a voice came over the public address system.

“Flight 3366, with nonstop service to Seattle, will begin boarding in a moment.”

With a loud groan, Roland elbowed Sam. “Wake up, sunshine. You’ve got two flights and twenty hours of flying to get your beauty sleep.” Sam stared around blearily, his black hair sticking straight out of the left side of his head, and Roland pulled him to his feet. Oscar and I stood, too, picking up our bags, and I stared at him expectantly.

“Well?” I asked in a low voice.

“Okay,” Oscar said at last. “Yeah. I’ll talk to him when we get to Beijing.”

CHAPTER FIVE ALL WORK AND NO PLAY

P2P FAN FORUMS

Jack Sinclair confirmed for season 4!

Maytrix [admin]

Just saw this article on Rumorz by Shelly Mathers. She ran into Kat in NYC, who confirmed her dad’s definitely in for next season. Phew!

The Real Kat Sinclair [new member]

Shelley Mathers is a liar. My father and I are moving back to Ohio. I can’t wait to leave this stupid show and go home for good.

YourCohortInCrime [member]

ROFL what

AFTER almost twenty-four hours of travel, I was pretty much delirious. I kept nodding off during our drive through Beijing, my head jerking forward every time the car lurched to a stop. By the time I woke up the next morning, I only remembered the trip in flashes: Green-and-yellow buses. Frost-covered rickshaws. Glass skyscrapers. An enormous hotel with signs in both Mandarin and English. Key card. Bed. Pillow. Face-plant.

I sat up slowly, my head still thick and foggy with sleep. The blinds were closed, but I could tell it was light outside. Dad was sitting cross-legged on the bed next to mine, his laptop screen giving his face a bluish glow. He smiled at me as I grabbed the glass of water on the night table and gulped it down.

“Morning. Well, afternoon, almost.”

“Ugh.” I set down the empty glass. For a few minutes, we sat there quietly. Dad was reading what looked like the itinerary Lidia had e-mailed to all of us before we left. I just watched him, thinking. About his shredded contract. About his reluctance to sign it. About what Shelly Mathers had said. His other job offer. The one he hadn’t told me about.

I couldn’t keep being angry at him for something I didn’t even know he’d done. So I took a deep breath and said:

“Live with Wendy. Is it true?”

Dad looked up, his mouth slightly open. “I’m sorry?”

“Shelly Mathers said that show Live with Wendy asked you to be cohost. In Cincinnati. Did they?”

His face tightened. “Yes. And I’d love to know how some Rumorz reporter found out about it. They’re keeping that search a secret until they fill the position.”

“So I guess they’ve forbidden you to tell me, then.” I winced at how whiny that sounded. But I had a right to be hurt. Or at least, I thought I did.

Apparently, Dad disagreed. Because instead of looking contrite or apologetic, he closed his laptop and turned to face me.

“Kat, I didn’t tell you because I haven’t decided whether or not to accept the offer yet. And despite what you apparently think, this is my decision to make, not yours.”

Stung, I just stared at him for a few seconds. “But . . . but if you take it, that means we’re moving back to Ohio.”

“Yes, it does.”

“But . . .” Anger was quickly replacing my hurt feelings. “But that’s my decision, too, isn’t it? I’m a cast member—shouldn’t I get a say in whether or not I leave?”

Dad sighed. “Believe me, I know you want to stay. But I’m the parent. I need to do what’s best for you—best for both of us.”

“And that’s moving back to Chelsea?” I threw the sheets aside and stood up, trembling. “You love this job, too! What’s this really about? You still don’t trust me? Or you think it’s too dangerous? Because—”

Ping! I stopped, and Dad and I both glanced at his phone on the night table. It was a text from Jess that just said FYI, followed by a link.

I crossed my arms, silently fuming as Dad tapped the link. But a second later, my righteous anger dissipated as I heard my own voice coming through the phone’s speaker.

“Actually, my dad turned in his contract to Fright TV this morning. Did you hear that rumor? Or did you start it?”

“She actually posted video of me?” I cried, hurrying