The Mary Shelley Club by Goldy Moldavsky (ebook reader for manga TXT) 📕

“So it’s more than just a group. It’s an actual club.”

“Shit shit shit.”

“Do you take minutes? Is there a treasurer?”

“Please stop talking to me now.”

“I don’t get the secrecy,” I said. “What’s the big deal?”

Thayer stopped and I almost bumped into him again. He was about to say something when a big guy walking with a trio of minions came up behind him. He rammed his bowling ball of a shoulder into Thayer’s back, sending him stumbling toward me. The big guy leaned over to whisper something in Thayer’s ear, laughing with his cronies before walking away. I didn’t hear what he said, but reading his lips was easy enough.

“Did he just call you a…” I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Thayer said, rubbing his shoulder. “Especially since he’s the one whispering sweet nothings in my ear!” That last part he shouted out, but only after the guy was far enough away to barely hear it.

“Trevor Driggs is an asshole.” Thayer sighed.

“Hey!” I was already on the move. When I’d reached Trevor, I tapped him on the shoulder. “What the hell is your problem?”

He turned to me. “Excuse me?”

“What makes you think you can talk to people like that?”

It took him a minute, but then Trevor looked at me and at Thayer, who’d caught up to us. And he laughed.

“Getting the new girl to fight your battles for you, Thayer?” Trevor turned back to me. “What are you gonna do, rip my hair out?”

My face flushed. It was a stupid, uninventive jab, but it still got to me. My new reputation had caught like wildfire.

The late bell rang. Trevor and his band of morons snickered as they walked away and Thayer and I were left, watching them go.

“I can’t believe he said that to you,” I said. “Are you okay?”

Thayer shrugged. “Do you know what scares Trevor more than anything else in the world?”

I shook my head.

“Well, I do.” Thayer hugged his books to his chest. “Thanks for trying to help. I like you, so I’m going to do you a favor. I’m gonna pretend we never talked. Nice knowing you, New Girl.”

 7

IT WAS OBVIOUS that Freddie and Thayer didn’t want anything to do with me. So naturally, I couldn’t stop thinking about them.

Later that day I was in Three-Dimensional Anatomy, my one art elective this semester. Every week we were tasked with rendering body parts out of different materials. Today it was clay, and I probably should’ve been paying more attention. At the very least I should’ve been watching out for Lux, who was in the class and had been shooting me daggers any chance she got. But my mind kept wandering to thoughts of Freddie and Thayer’s club. While everyone else at my table was busy molding the gray lumps in front of them into hands or ears or noses, I rolled my clump absentmindedly on the table.

First Freddie had slipped up, and now Thayer. The only facts I had were that they were part of a secret club that was up to no good. I’d already begun to think of them as puppet masters, the invisible hands behind all the strange and scary things that happened to the people at this school. It sounded kind of sinister. Bad. But I couldn’t help thinking that it also sounded kind of … awesome.

At first it seemed like just pranks, but I was beginning to draw a connection. There had to be an element of horror in the club, too. I mean, the séance could’ve been a scene in a teen horror movie. And the rumors of past pranks all sounded kind of familiar. Like horror tropes, or urban legends.

I didn’t even know the full purpose of the club yet, but I already knew I had to be a part of it. I wanted that same burst of adrenaline that I used to get from horror movies. The exhilaration of rubbing shoulders with fear and knowing it couldn’t touch me.

Maybe these pranks could get me there.

“Rachel?” I jumped when Paul spoke. He was the art teacher, and he insisted that we call him by his first name. This, as he’d told us on the first day of class, was to let us know he wasn’t like the other teachers around here. That and his hair, which was thin and long, just grazing his shoulders.

“Yes, Paul?”

“What are you making?”

I looked down at my three-dimensional human anatomy lump, which I had unwittingly rolled into a sad-looking phallus. I squished the clay between my fingers to destroy it immediately. “Still working on it.”

Paul winced and pointed to the supply closet next to the window. “Maybe you need more clay.”

“Great idea, Paul.” I stood and walked to the closet, which was lined with shelves full of gray lumps in plastic wrap. I went to reach for one when another hand snatched it off the shelf. I turned to see who it was, annoyed.

“Ah, great,” I muttered.

“Well, hello to you, too,” Lux said. She stepped closer, forcing me to back into the closet. After I’d seen her at the start of class and she didn’t immediately rush to kill, I’d figured I was safe, that maybe she’d calmed down some. Apparently not. I wanted to get back to my seat and out of her way. I reached for a different lump of clay, but Lux grabbed that one, too.

“Really?” I said.

“I’ve got a big art piece. The biggest.”

“Congrats.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about you and what happened at the party.”

“Look, I’m sorry about your exten—”

“Not that. I’m talking about that boy on your phone, Matthew Marshall?”

My breath caught. I’d thought for sure she’d forget his name.

“Matthew Marshall,” Lux said again, watching me gleefully. She seemed to get some weird enjoyment out of saying his name. Or from watching my face as she said it.

“Don’t say his name.”

“Matthew Marshall Matthew Marshall Matthew Marshall. I knew you were a freak, but I didn’t know how much of