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

bite of my hot dog. “Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to get away from there.”

Freddie’s mouth was full but he nodded. “Yeah, Manchester’s a trip at first, but you get used to it.”

“How did you get used to it?”

“I figured out a way to game the system. You have no idea how much those people will pay for a halfway decent book report.” Freddie devoured his last bite of hot dog, leaving a small smear of ketchup in the corner of his lip.

I remembered what Saundra had said, about Freddie’s illicit yet lucrative extracurricular hustle. “I don’t think I can game my way out of this one.”

“Rachel, I know Lux blames you for what happened at the séance. I’m sorry if that has made things tough for you at school. But it’ll blow over. Something new will happen that’ll have everyone talking and they’ll move on.”

“Will you and your mysterious club be responsible for this something new, by any chance?”

“Maybe.” His eyes shone behind his glasses and his lips quirked, but I couldn’t take him seriously with that bit of ketchup still on his face.

“You’ve got some…” I gestured at my own lip, and he swiped his hand over his mouth. “So if I ask you what you guys have planned, will you tell me?”

“Sorry, I can’t.”

I tore a bite off my hot dog and began walking ahead, forcing Freddie to catch up.

“Why do you want in so bad?” Freddie asked. “You don’t even know what we do.”

“I think I’d like it.”

“You might hate it.”

“I think I need it.”

It sounded weird when I said it like that. Desperate. Kind of vulnerable. But it was out now and I couldn’t take it back. “Did you hear that I almost killed Lux McCray with a pair of scissors?”

“Yeah,” Freddie snorted. “She makes up all kinds of stuff.”

“It’s true.” I stopped walking and turned to face him. He was taller than me, and I had to tilt my head slightly to look him in the eye. “I mean … I wasn’t going to kill her, obviously. But I did attack her with the scissors. That part is all true.”

Any trace of laughter left Freddie’s face, but he didn’t look at me like the rest of the school did, like I was a freak. “Did she threaten you?”

“Not exactly. I just lost my cool.”

“We all do.”

“Yeah, but I thought I could deal with it. Lately, though, everything I’ve been doing isn’t cutting it anymore. I just need to find something that’ll make me not lose my cool. Like … an outlet.”

“And you think my club will do that for you?”

“I’m willing to try it.”

I thought about what Saundra had said to me that night at the party: I just needed to find my people and everything else would fall into place. Maybe Freddie and Thayer and their club were my people.

As Freddie watched me, I wondered if this conversation would end like the last one we had, with him walking away and leaving me wanting. But this time felt different.

“What’s your number?” he asked.

 11

I CHECKED THE time on my phone, then the street signs again.

A few hours after I gave Freddie my number, a cryptic text had popped up on my phone.

Midnight at the corner of Camp Crystal Lake’s killer and when Cillian Murphy finally wakes up from his coma.

I had figured out the references pretty quickly, but had no clue how to meet someone at the corner of Jason Voorhees and 28 Days Later. Then I’d figured “28” must relate to a street, someplace in Kips Bay or Chelsea in Manhattan. But there weren’t any streets named Jason on Google Maps. Finally, I’d searched for Voorhees, which also was not a street, road, boulevard, or avenue in Manhattan. But then Google asked if I meant Voorhies Avenue.

Bingo.

Voorhies Avenue intersected with East 28th Street all the way at the southern edge of Brooklyn, close to the beach. I couldn’t imagine anyone from Manchester even knowing this place existed, let alone setting foot there. But it was the only place that fit the clue.

Unless there was another Voorhies Avenue—one that wasn’t misspelled—up in Westchester or something. But if I had to take the Metro North to get there, I was out. Sneaking out of the apartment without waking my mom was one thing; trekking to the suburbs was another. That was a different level of scary.

As I stood there watching the minutes go by on my phone, I wondered if I’d made a terrible mistake. Getting lured to a faraway spot, when no one knew where you were, to go meet some strangers felt increasingly sketchy. It was too quiet here among the crammed-together houses. I hated quiet streets. They reminded me of Long Island.

The only noise came from the beating of my heart, getting louder in my ears and quickening with every passing minute. Soon, it was drowned out by the sound of a car engine. Far, but getting closer.

I could see a white van coming down the block, the only vehicle that had been on the street for the last fifteen minutes. When it slowed down in front of me, I noticed the lettering on the side: ROPA VIEJA CATERING, with a fading photo of what looked like chicken and rice underneath.

Was this my ride? Confusion set in, which only made my heart beat faster. I tried to peer through the window, but it was opaque.

“Hello?” At the sound of my voice, the side door slammed open.

Two figures jumped out so fast they were nothing more than a blur. Before I could scream, everything went black, as if I’d been knocked out.

But I was still awake, still breathing. I realized a hood had been pulled over my head.

I began yelling and my hands went immediately to tear the hood off, but someone yanked my arms down. I kicked but my boots cut through wide-open air. I continued shouting as they lifted me, as my knees hit a hard surface, as