Final Girl by Michelle Schusterman (beach books .TXT) 📕

“Actually, I was hoping you’d give me some feedback.”

My eyes widened. “What?”

“It’s just a first draft,” she said quickly. “I know it needs a lot of work. But it’s basically about a woman who’s being stalked by what she thinks is her doppelganger, and I just thought, hey, now I actually know someone who’s seen her own doppelganger, plus she’s a horror movie expert and a generally awesome human, so maybe she could give me some notes?”

Mi Jin clasped her hands together like she was begging, her eyes comically wide. I just stood there, floored. Mi Jin was one of the coolest and smartest people I’d ever met, and she was asking me for help? The idea made me feel extremely proud and terribly anxious at the same time.

“You . . . I . . . what . . .” I sputtered, then blushed. “But you’re my teacher. How can I give you notes?”

“Um, besides all the reasons I just said?” Mi Jin said with a little laugh. “Hey, if it helps, think of this as a critical reading assignment. If you want to read it, of course.”

“I do!” I said quickly. “I want to! I just . . . I don’t know if I’ll be much help.”

“I know you will,” Mi Jin said, beaming. “Thanks!” She gave me a quick hug, then headed back inside Lidia’s room. I walked slowly down the hall to my room, hugging the screenplay to my chest and feeling all warm inside.

I was just sliding my key card through the lock when I heard the ping of the elevator on the other end of the hall. I glanced over to see Dad and Jess stepping off.

“Hey!” I said, pushing the door open but waiting in the hall. “Done with the interviews?”

“Yup!” Jess said cheerfully. “Got some great stuff.” She headed into Lidia’s room, but Dad said, “I’ll be right there,” and continued down the hall toward me. At the sight of his expression, my good mood vanished.

“Is something wrong?”

Dad didn’t answer, just gestured for me to enter our room. Once we were inside, he exhaled slowly, then pulled out his phone.

“Your mother e-mailed me,” he said. “She’s pretty upset about this.” He held his phone out, and I saw some Facebook status update my mom had written about her wedding. Then I noticed the first comment below it. A comment from me.

Your real daughter will be home soon. And I’ll never leave you again.

My jaw dropped. “I didn’t write that.”

Dad tilted his head. “Do you think your account was hacked?” He said it like he was ready to believe me if I said yes, which made me feel even worse. Because it had been hacked, of course. But by the Thing, so once again, I couldn’t tell the complete truth.

“It must have been, yeah,” I croaked. “Or something. Because I didn’t say that. I would never say that.”

“It’s just that . . .” Dad glanced at the screen and sighed. “Okay, I’ll be honest. Your mother and I are both concerned that this is your way of trying to tell us something that you’re too afraid to just . . . say.”

I blinked, then blinked again. “What?”

“Your real daughter,” Dad read aloud, and I flinched. “Does this mean . . . as opposed to Elena?”

“What?” My mind was so full of the Thing, it took me a minute to register what Dad was implying. “Dad, I don’t care that Mom’s about to have a stepdaughter. I don’t.”

Another lie. Mom doted on Elena like she never had with me, and yes, it bugged me. But I’d never say anything so rude about her; especially not online, where my whole family could see it.

Maybe that showed on my face, because Dad looked disappointed. “And then this part, about never leaving again.” He lowered his phone, and the sadness in his eyes made my throat clench up. “Between this and my contract, I just . . . Kat, do you want to go back to Chelsea for good? To be closer to your mom? Because, sweetie, that’s okay. It won’t hurt my feelings if that’s what you want.”

And he really didn’t look hurt. He just looked so sad. The idea that he thought I’d rather be with Mom than with him hit me so hard, I couldn’t even get out a no. I just burst into tears, burying my face in my hands. Dad immediately wrapped his arms around me, which just made me cry harder. After several minutes of sobbing (and eventually, hiccuping) into his sweater, I pulled away and wiped my nose.

“I don’t,” I said as firmly as I could, but my voice wobbled and cracked. “I swear, I don’t. I want to be here with you.” I walked over to my bed and lay down face-first, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. Exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket. Dad was silent for a few seconds.

“Kat?”

“I’m tired,” I croaked into my pillow. “Can we talk about this later?”

Another pause. “Okay. I’ll be down the hall if you need me.”

A few seconds later, I heard the door click closed. I rolled over on my back and stared at the ceiling.

Your real daughter. When I’d first read that, before Dad mentioned Elena, I’d felt like I was on the brink of a realization. I lay still, hoping my brain would finish making the connection. Your real daughter . . . I closed my eyes and saw Laurie in the lobby of the Montgomery, asking for my autograph.

“What did you mean about meeting the real you?”

I sat up in bed, then lunged for my laptop. The Real Kat Sinclair—someone had left a few comments under that name on a Rumorz post and in the forums. It didn’t take me long to find them. The first was on Shelly Mather’s poll about the guest star. You won’t care about any of these idiots once you meet me. And the second was on the forum thread when I’d “confirmed” that my dad was staying on the show next season. I can’t wait to leave this stupid show and go home for good.

I