Free Hysteria by Megan Miranda Page A

like Bree was inconsequential.
     Like she didn’t matter enough to her at all.
    And then a third voice, quieter, said, “He doesn’t have the best reputation.” Taryn,
     I guessed.
    There was this beat of silence before I heard Bree laugh again. “Yeah, well, neither
     do I.”
    The door shut behind them and I was left with the silence again. With nothing but
     Bree’s words lingering in my head. Because Bree didn’t have a reputation yet. So I
     guess what she was really saying was neither will I. Like that was the whole purpose.
    Which was the type of thing someone said who had never truly had a bad reputation
     before.
    This is what the people with the bad reputation do: they take a sleeping pill and
     hope that their ghosts won’t come for them each night.
    But all the hoping in the world doesn’t change what happens.
    The ghosts always come.
    It starts in the distance.
    Boom, boom, boom.

 
     
    Chapter 6
    S omething wasn’t right. I could sense that even though I was nearly asleep. I shouldn’t
     have taken the sleeping pill. Someone was out there. Someone had thrown red paint
     on my door, playing a joke on me. Or maybe it wasn’t a joke. Maybe it was Brian’s
     mom. And here I was, sleeping. Almost sleeping.
    The heartbeat filling the room paused, the room still buzzing with energy, and then
     there was a harsh whisper. “Mallory,” it said, sounding far, far away.
    Something grazed my shoulder. Just barely. Like I might’ve imagined it. And then fingers
     tightened around my shoulder and I felt warm breath on my ear. A whisper. Wait.
    My eyes shot open.
    Morning. The alarm was blaring beside me. I fumbled until I found the snooze button,
     then rubbed at my left ear, where I still felt the warmth. I jolted upright and moved
     my arm in a giant circle, stretching my shoulder. But when I stood up, I could still
     feel it. The spot where four fingers had pressed down on the front of my shoulder.
     The feel of a thumb on my back.
    Something lingered in my room. Like the dust hovering in the slant of light beside
     my bed. Like the air before a thunderstorm. The threat of something coming.
    I ran to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, the neck of my shirt jerked
     down past my shoulder. I stretched the skin and squinted at the mirror. I thought
     I could just barely make out four pink marks.
    Taryn barreled through the bathroom door, half awake. She glanced at me, quickly looked
     away, and went to a shower stall on autopilot.
    The mirror fogged up as I bent close to the sink, straining to see. I pulled at the
     skin of my shoulder repeatedly and wiped at the condensation on the mirror, but everything
     was muted. Filtered. Like viewing the world through white curtains.
    Another girl came into the bathroom, pointed to the other shower stall, and said,
     “Are you using that?”
    I took a step away from the mirror. And then another.
    “Hey, I asked if you were using that shower.”
    “Huh? Yeah. Um, I need to get my stuff,” I said, stumbling by her.
    “Somebody needs some coffee,” she mumbled as I passed.
    Shower. Khaki pants. Brown shoes, not broken in yet. Scarlet shirt. I grabbed breakfast
     in the cafeteria on the way to first period and saw Reid in the student center with
     a group of guys, including Jason.
    Reid patted someone on the shoulder and excused himself, and I walked a little faster.
     I felt Jason’s eyes following me.
    “Mallory,” Reid called. “Wait.”
    The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and I backed into an alcove behind
     a column. The whole hallway seemed to throb like my room at night, when I wasn’t fully
     awake.
    Reid jogged over to me. “Hey,” he said.
    But before he had a chance to say anything else, I said, “Did you see anyone last
     night?”
    “Huh?”
    “In the dorm. Around the dorm. Last night.” Because there was red paint on my door.
     Because something grabbed onto my shoulder.
    “Not that I noticed. What happened? You