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

“Okay,” I said. “Well, I guess it was the part where the main character—Lee, right?—when she actually sees her doppelganger face-to-face for the first time. She screams and runs, like she’s really shocked. But . . . but that doesn’t really make sense.”

Mi Jin nodded encouragingly. “How so?”

“Because there were all these signs before then that something weird was going on,” I replied. “Like finding that burned figurine, and when she felt like someone was watching her in the scene at her grandmother’s funeral. There were other clues, too . . . so by the time she sees her doppelganger, I get that it’s still scary. But not surprising. She knew something was up.”

“Huh.” Mi Jin nodded, a smile spreading slowly across her face. “That makes a lot of sense, actually.”

“Indeed it does,” Grandma agreed, and I noticed for the first time that she was holding a copy of the script. (Thankfully, it appeared to be a clean copy with no mean notes.) “The way you’ve described it, it sounds like her doppelganger has been lurking around for quite a while prior to the start of the story. It reminds me of the stalker I dealt with when I was a teenager.”

Oscar’s eyes widened. “You had a stalker? Like . . . Emily with Sam?”

“I sure did,” Grandma said lightly. “I started receiving letters from him after Vampires of New Jersey came out. By the time I was filming Return to the Asylum, things had gotten out of hand. I knew something bad was coming—I could feel it. So when the kidnapping happened, well . . . it’s like Kat said. I was horrified, but not surprised.”

“You were kidnapped?” I blurted out. Grandma had mentioned her stalker before, but I’d never gotten any details out of her.

“Not me. My stunt double. Sandra.”

She sat quietly for a few seconds, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. I waited, hoping she’d continue. Mi Jin and Oscar were watching her, too. I was pretty sure all three of us were holding our breaths.

Finally, Grandma spoke. “Sandra started working for me during Cannibal Clown Circus. I played an acrobat . . . it was the first role I ever had where I needed a stunt double. Up close, we didn’t look terribly similar. But we were around the same height and weight, and with a little hair dye, from a distance . . .” She trailed off, her eyes distant. “Well. It was easy to confuse us.”

I sat perfectly still, watching her. I couldn’t believe Grandma had never told me this story before.

“Well, one day we were at the studio till well after midnight,” she went on softly. “I was on edge—this was after five weeks of filming Return to the Asylum, and on top of that the letters from my stalker had gotten more frequent, and more disturbing. Sandra and I usually left the studio together, with my bodyguard. This was the second movie we had worked on together, and we were close. Spent all our time together. But our friendship was . . . well . . . it was intense. We loved each other, but we fought over the most ridiculous things. We had had another squabble that day, I can’t even remember over what. When we finished filming, I went and sulked in my dressing room until she left.”

Her mouth tightened, and a feeling of foreboding washed over me. Oscar had paled slightly, and he gazed at Grandma without blinking.

“He was lurking outside the studio, waiting for me.” Grandma sighed. “He saw me without my bodyguard—or at least, he thought he did—and seized the opportunity. Sandra never saw him coming. He snuck up behind her, dragged her into his car, drove off . . . by the time he realized his mistake, they were far from the studio. None of us even realized she was missing until the next morning when she didn’t show up to work.”

“Did you . . . did they find her?” Mi Jin asked. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer, and I could tell from his expression that Oscar felt the same.

Grandma blinked, her eyes coming into focus. “Yes! Yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply . . .” She waved her hand. “The police tracked them down in a few days, holed up in a little apartment about an hour from the studio. Sandra was unharmed . . . well, physically. But she was traumatized. Had no more interest in being my body double, for obvious reasons.” Grandma paused. “Our relationship was never the same after that. I blamed myself for what happened to her. Still do.”

I glanced at Oscar. “It wasn’t your fault, obviously. It was the stalker.”

“Well, of course I know that, sweetie,” Grandma said with a smile, bumping my shoulder with hers. “But I couldn’t help playing the what if game. What if I hadn’t sulked in my dressing room and let her leave the studio alone? What if I hadn’t fought with her that day at all? What if I’d gone to the police sooner with those letters, instead of convincing myself for so long that my stalker was just a particularly enthusiastic ‘fan’?” She spread out her hands. “Sandra never would have gone through such a dreadful ordeal.”

At some point, Mi Jin had pulled out a notebook, and she was scribbling furiously. Grandma arched her eyebrows. “Taking notes, dear?”

Mi Jin looked up, blushing. “Oh! No, not about Sandra. Just, like . . .” She gestured at the screenplay in Grandma’s lap. “Between your story and all that stuff Kat said, I have some revision ideas, and I wanted to get them down before I forget.”

“Wonderful!” Grandma handed her the script. “Why don’t I hold off on reading this until you’ve revised? We’ll consider it an official submission for Final Girl Productions.”

I couldn’t help snickering at the way Mi Jin’s eyes bulged. “What. Seriously. Um. Yes?”

“Excellent.” The elevator doors opened, and Roland and Jess appeared, loaded down with bags and equipment. Grandma stood, smoothing down her blouse. “Looks like we’re about ready to head out!”

I stood, too, picking up my backpack and waiting until Grandma and Mi Jin were busy helping the