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

Suddenly, all eyes—and phone cameras—were on me. Anxiety washed over me in a quick wave, and I clenched my fists.

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

My voice came out way more aggressive than I’d intended. But I couldn’t help it. I’d never really liked Shelly Mathers’s articles, but this was different. She was cornering us into an interview without even asking if we wanted to give one. There was no way she’d ever do that with Dad or the rest of the crew . . . because they were adults.

They would be furious when they found out she’d done this. Somehow, that realization made me feel a little braver.

Shelly’s eyes hardened, although she kept smiling. “Oh, Kat, I’m so glad to hear that. We’d hate to lose Jack Sinclair, wouldn’t we?” she added over her shoulder, and several of the fans nodded fervently. “So I guess we don’t need to worry about the fact that he’s currently discussing joining Live with Wendy as co-host?”

I just stared at her, mouth hanging open. Live with Wendy was a local talk show that filmed in Cincinnati—only about an hour from Chelsea. But Dad hadn’t said a word to me about a job offer. Shelly was just making stuff up. She must be.

Except . . . why would a reporter in New York know anything about a talk show back in Ohio?

“He’s . . . I . . . no.” My tongue felt too thick in my mouth. “He’s not leaving Passport to Paranormal.”

Eyebrows raised, Shelly waved her phone. “Good to know. I’ll quote you on that.”

“Um . . .” I shook my head, vaguely panicked. “I’d rather not—”

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted, and we all turned to see a security guard standing behind the fans. She was a good head shorter than Shelly, but stared her down with a look so fierce, the fans around her all took a step back. Shelly smoothly pocketed her phone as she turned around.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to have to ask you all to leave,” the security guard said. “Only tenants and their guests are allowed in this building.”

Shelly gave a little laugh that made the hairs on my arms stand on end. “Oh, fine. I’m sure I’ll catch them later.” She winked at Oscar before following the fans to the exit, where the doorman was waiting. Oscar’s charming on-camera smile was back, but he watched her warily. One of the fans, a teenage girl about my height wearing a T-shirt that said #TeamSamland, lingered behind. She glanced hesitantly at the security guard before holding out a glossy photograph and a Sharpie to me.

“Sorry, I just . . . I was wondering if I could get your autograph?”

My face burned. “What? Seriously?”

“Yeah!” She waved the photograph, which I recognized from the P2P website. It was a promo shot the cast had taken on the boardwalk in Rotterdam, right after Dad had joined. “I’ve been watching Passport since it started, but it’s so much better with you and Oscar. And I love your blog!”

The security guard still had her eye on Shelly’s retreating back, but she made a gesture at me that said “go ahead.” I took the paper and pen, unable to think of a reason to say no. “Oh. Thanks.” I scribbled my name on the bottom right corner, and she bounced up and down on her toes.

“Thank you so much! Oscar, can I get yours, too?”

“Sure!” Oscar said eagerly, taking the photo and marker from me. “What’s your name?”

“Laurie!”

I watched as Oscar wrote For Laurie: Believe! Oscar Bettencourt in big, sprawling script, and rolled my eyes. Of course Oscar had perfected an autograph. I wondered if he’d practiced it before.

“Hey, Kat,” Laurie said. “What did you mean about meeting the real you?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

She took the photo and marker from Oscar. “You know, that comment you left on Shelly’s poll this morning? The one about who people wanted to see as a guest star on the finale? Something like ‘you won’t care once you meet the real me’?”

“Sorry, I don’t—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” the security guard interjected, and Laurie blushed.

“Sorry! Thank you! It was great to meet you both!”

She hurried across the lobby and out the doors, where her friends were waiting. Shelly was nowhere in sight.

“Thanks, Kim,” Jamie said to the security guard, who smiled at him.

“No problem. I’m going to have to tell your parents about this, okay?” Kim glanced at the door again. “What was that reporter’s name again?”

“Shelly Mathers.” Hailey made a face. “From Rumorz. I liked her better before I met her in person.”

I glanced at Oscar, who had gone silent after Laurie left. He was the one who’d kept reaching out to Shelly, agreeing to her interviews. But clearly this little incident had made even him uncomfortable. After Dad and Lidia found out, there was no way they’d ever agree to more Rumorz interviews.

My stomach clenched as I remembered something else. I’d told Shelly my dad definitely wasn’t leaving the show. I’ll quote you on that. But what if it wasn’t true? What if she published it, and it turned out my dad actually was taking some job in Ohio?

No way, I told myself firmly. He would never keep something that huge from me. And besides, his contract had been gone this morning. It was fine. I had nothing to worry about.

“Kat? Ready?”

Jamie’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and I realized Oscar and Hailey were already heading for the elevator. “Oh! Yeah, coming.”

I pulled out my Elapse as I walked, trying to focus on the Thing. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what I’d told Shelly Mathers. If she was going to publish what I’d said, I had to warn my dad. Which meant we were finally going to have the conversation we’d been avoiding about our plans after the season finale.

“It’ll be fine,” I told Oscar as we hurried down the street, my voice muffled in the scarf I’d wrapped around half my face. The wind had picked up, and every