Page 22 of Stranger Danger

Instead, I melt under my comforter the same way I’ve been doing for two and a half weeks now.

I throw a random video on for background noise and pull up the image I grabbed online. Grainy. Pixelated to shit. But I can still read I hate you. I swipe to my Polaroid. Back and forth.

He doesn’t actually hate me, right? I mean… he’s never met me.

I’m kind of awesome.

Oh my god, he’s never met me!

I bolt out from the comforter so fast that even Beckett stops typing and looks up.

“Are you—”

“Yeah,” I cut in. “I’m going to be back late, okay?”

Waiting for a response from my roommate isn’t going to happen. I can’t get out of the door and down the stairs fast enough.

It’s the easiest, dumbest idea. Why haven’t I thought of it before now?

All I have to do is find my pen pal in person!

Two hours later, I park my car at the end of another goddamn road and slam the door. I’m trying really, really hard to stay happy. Positive. But my skipping’s slightly off, and I almost trip on a crack in the pavement.

Break your mother’s back—hell, break my back.

My arms are frozen. It’s dark. It’s snowing. I can’t tell if my heart’s pounding because I’m excited or I’m starting to panic. Pavement shifts to grass under my sneakers, crunching too loud.

Two different people said they liked my mask. Someone else said they loved my ink. Another asked what club I’m going to. Part of me is rolling in compliments like honey. The other’s just… I don’t know. Upset? Sad?

I smack my cheeks under the bunny mask hard enough to hurt and grit my teeth.

No time for that shit.

I focus on each house instead. My pen pal has the most cut-and-dry MO I’ve ever seen. Break in through the back window. Strangle them. Position them into something “elaborate”—cops’ words, not mine. Then leave.

It’s yawn-worthy. We’ve seen this same schlock since like, the seventies or something. It’d be nice if he got creative.

But it means I know to look behind the houses to see if windows are open.

God, where is he?

I’ve gone down every fucking suburban street known to man.

Did he retire or something? Did I scare him off because I’m too awesome?

Come on, bro. Don’t get scared of the new dude in town just yet.

I thought we were having fun.

Something breaks inside the house to my right.

I stop walking and tilt my head to listen. Maybe it was my imagination, but I’m pretty sure I’m not that crazy. All the lights in the house are off, and when I look farther up…

The second-story window is cracked open.

My eyes dart to the siding, then the trellis, and I throw myself onto it. My fingers don’t want to close around the hard plastic. I force past the cold and climb faster, skittering around the ivy and leaves. Pushing the window open more, I slip inside.

Another shatter. Right across the hall. It sounds like whoever is in here with him is putting up one hell of a fight.