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

tile. I tried to scramble to my feet, but the shelf tilted forward precariously, raining down more glass bottles and sharp metal instruments. A heavy cylinder hit my head, and bright spots danced in front of my eyes. I grabbed at the shelf again, this time to steady myself, but missed and landed hard on my hands and knees. Shards of glass sliced my palms, but I ignored the pain and got to my feet.

The Thing stood right in front of the portal. It smiled.

“Five seconds.”

But the voice didn’t come from either of us. It was distant, almost like it was coming from an intercom. The portal started to flicker, and the Thing turned to step inside.

I’d never reach it in time. Without thinking, I grabbed the Elapse from around my neck and hurled it at the Thing. It smacked into the back of its head, and the Thing stumbled. I lunged across the room and seized its hair and pulled.

“Five seconds.”

The Thing screamed, struggling to turn and face me with its head bent backward. I saw the Elapse on the floor just before the Thing stomped on it with a sickening crunch. A fresh wave of anger coursed through me, and using all my remaining strength, I shoved the Thing away from the portal as hard as I could. Then, ignoring its shrieks of anger, I threw myself inside.

I felt its fingers graze my ankle and tug desperately before I slipped out of its grasp. The screams quickly faded to nothing.

The light was even more intense this time. I crossed both arms over my eyes, wincing at the stings from the cuts on my hands.

“Just five seconds.”

“What . . .” I mumbled, and the grogginess of my own voice startled me. I needed to stop running before I crashed into something. Except . . . except I wasn’t running. I was lying down. On . . . nothing.

I was floating.

The light dimmed, and I lowered my arms. I was looking down at room 313, back to normal now with white floors and blue-green wallpaper instead of black and red. The corner was just a regular corner, no sign of a portal or anything unusual.

And Oscar was there, kneeling on the floor next to someone. Someone unconscious.

Me.

Panic seized me. Had the Thing somehow made it out of the portal? That’s not me! I tried to yell, but I couldn’t make a sound. Then I noticed blood on the girl’s hands, and I relaxed. The Thing hadn’t made it out. It was me on the floor.

That’s a weird thing to feel relieved about, said a voice in my head. You do look kind of dead. And it’s not a good sign that you’re up here watching yourself, is it?

That’s true, I agreed. I should go back down there.

As soon as I had the thought, everything went dark. I felt heavy, all of a sudden, like my bones had turned to concrete.

“I don’t know what happened, I left her alone for just five seconds!”

Oscar’s panicked voice was suddenly very close. I realized my eyes were closed, and struggled to open them. His face swam in my vision, his worried expression quickly changing to relieved when I focused on him.

“She’s awake!”

Another face was there, and another . . . too many. Dad, Grandma, the whole crew. No cameras, at least not pointed at me—both hung limp at Jess’s and Mi Jin’s sides. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, hands feeling my forehead, pulling me up into a sitting position, bracing my back when I slumped over.

“What happened?”

“Is that blood?”

“Her hands—Mi Jin, get the first aid kit!”

“Did you fall?”

“Did you hit your head?”

I blinked slowly, trying to get my thoughts in order. “No, I didn’t . . . I’m fine, I just . . .”

“Okay!” Grandma said loudly, and everyone else fell silent. “Let’s give her a little space, shall we?” She helped me up and led me over to the bed, sitting down next to me as Lidia handed her the first aid kid. “Where on earth did these cuts come from?”

“Glass,” I mumbled. “Some bottles fell off the shelf.”

Grandma glanced at the shelf, where the jars and instruments still sat undisturbed. “Mmhmm,” was all she said. Then she smiled up at Jess. “Mind if I sit here with my granddaughter for a bit? The rest of you really should get down to the cafeteria and find Lidia.”

She said it kindly, but there was no hint of a question in her voice. Jess hedged for a moment, tapping her fingers on the side of her camera.

“Yeah, of course. You sure you’re okay, Kat?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Jess smiled, then headed back out into the hall. The rest of the crew followed, although Oscar looked pretty reluctant to leave. Dad stayed by the bed, watching as Grandma opened a tube of antibiotic cream.

“You should get down there, too, Jack,” she said without looking up. “She’ll be fine.”

“I’m okay,” I added, doing my best to sound normal despite the grogginess that still lingered. “Totally fine. It’s just a few scratches. I was taking a few photos when the light went out, and I tripped and fell.”

Dad sighed, and I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. I was lying again, and he knew it. I had to stop doing this. I was only making things worse.

“Actually, that’s not true.” My heart pounded faster, but I forced myself to say it. “The truth is . . . the doppelganger we saw on the bridge was here. It’s not a doppelganger, though, not exactly. It’s an artificial ghost I made. Like Brunilda Cano. But it’s like a version of me that . . . that Mom would like better. It ripped up your contract and left those messages on Mom’s Facebook, all of that stuff. And tonight, when you guys left the room, I stayed just to take a few photos, and it . . . attacked me.”

“Attacked you?”

“The portal in the corner,” I said hurriedly, wanting to get this over with, fully aware of how ridiculous it sounded. “It opened, and I went in, and that’s when it pushed me into the