Chapter Text
Nichelle does not cry like how she does on a screen.
It shouldn’t be that surprising. In order to become a good movie star, you should learn how to cry at the drop of a hat. There’s probably classes for crying on camera and everything.
Emma has watched Gorgeous People High every year since it first came out. She can vividly picture the turning point of the movie: Nichelle, delivering her powerful speech about the beauty of friendship on the school rooftop with a megaphone in her hand. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking every other word, but she looked so hopeful and strong then.
And even with Nichelle’s fumble during the third challenge last year, she threw herself on the ground and bawled her eyes out. Somehow, the temper tantrum looked fitting, not necessarily in a completely bad way, but in a way only Nichelle Ladonna could show. If there is one thing she is amazing at, it is looking good through every emotion, even despair.
It turns out, none of that compares to how Nichelle really cries when there are no cameras in sight.
Breaking the news to Nichelle was not easy. When she first landed on the island, she looked so happy, like her world was starting anew. She hugged the fake contract close to her chest, held it like it was the center of her universe. Millie couldn’t figure out what to say, so Emma decided to take the lead.
Emma had expected tears. Yelling. Questions. Disbelief, even. Her brain worked on overdrive, coming up with potential things to say to remedy the situation. By the time Nichelle landed, she was sure she was prepared for anything.
What she wasn’t prepared for was the numbing silence.
Even now, hours after telling Nichelle, the resort is more silent than usual. The hum of the air conditioner battles against the slight drone of the flat screen TV. Emma nibbles on her pinky’s nail, strangely finding comfort in the sound of her teeth scraping against the uneven surface.
It doesn’t help that they’re some of the first people out of the game. Chase is probably recording some stupid stunt for his stupid videos, Lauren has yet to be seen—truthfully, Emma is unsure if she should feel relieved or terrified by the fact that she hasn’t caught even a glimpse of her since she got here yesterday—and Nichelle locked herself in her room.
Millie is the only person Emma has come across. They haven’t talked much, settling for tiny conversations here and there, but they’ve been around each other for basically every waking hour of the day. They’re not close or anything; it’s just better to be around someone rather than sitting in complete solitude.
Tap, tap, tap. Millie’s pen makes a steady beat against one of her journals, the page blank. From what Emma has seen on the island, Millie can fill up a page in one of these things in less than ten minutes. Even her mind is silent, or silent enough where none of the words reach her journal.
Finally, Emma decides to speak. “I feel awful about what happened with Nichelle,” she finds herself admitting.
Millie’s pen stops moving. “Same,” she agrees, opting to close her notebook with a sigh. Her head leans against the couch’s cushions, and Emma finds herself reveling in the sound of her curly hair brushing against the leather. “I wish there was something we could do for her.”
That’s possible, right? Optimism likes to run rapidly in Emma’s veins, making her see the potential good in every scenario. There has to be something that can at least distract Nichelle from all of this…
And then an idea crosses her brain.
Emma slams her hands on her knees, and even though it stings, she smiles through the self-inflicted pain. “We’re having a slumber party!”
“A slumber party?” Millie tilts her head. “Tonight?”
“Well, yeah! Just think. Instead of wallowing in our collective misery—”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say we were wallowing.”
“We were so wallowing, just in between all the small talk.” That’s why all their talks have been so small: the conversation would always get sad, and then they’d be back in Silentville. “But it’s okay, because now, we’ll do less wallowing and more partying. Parties solve almost every issue there is.”
“That’s… probably true?” It sounds more like a question than a definitive answer, but Millie looks confident enough in it. “I mean, they always seem to happen in books or movies. At least a good seventy-five percent from the top of my head.”
“Exactly, you get it!” Emma hops up on her feet, the coffee table shaking slightly. “Oh, I’m gonna make invites! That way it feels more real! I’ll see you soon, okay?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, instead focusing on each of her steps as she runs to her room. Thanks to her scrapbooking hobby, she’s got tons of art supplies: colored pencils, fancy sheets of paper, stickers, all the good stuff. Thirty minutes is more than enough time to get everything prepared.
First, the invites. Then, the party. And in the end, a good time that will erase any bad memories from Total Drama.
This is going to work. It has to.
It didn’t take long for Millie to receive her physical invitation from Emma, the paper slightly wrinkled from the way it slid underneath her room’s door. It’s a tiny thing, rushed but filled with a lot of attention and care. Small stickers and colorful handwriting coat the tiny, folded pages, the words alone practically bursting with colorful excitement.
Millie smiles at it before propping it carefully on her nightstand. She then rests her hands on her hips, eyeing her bookbag and the items lying across her bed.
What does one pack for a slumber party anyway? She hasn’t been to one since she was around five, and even then, she feels that she was only invited because the birthday girl happened to be her cousin.
“It should be the same as packing for a hotel, right?” she asks herself in a mumble. After some thinking, she nods. “Yeah, sure, let’s try that.”
Millie grabs everything she thinks she needs. Her water bottle. A can of bug spray. Some hair ties. A blanket. A pillow. Her satin bonnet. A toothbrush and toothpaste. Her journal. Her lucky book. Her not-so-lucky-but-still-lucky-enough book. Her backup lucky book.
That should be it.
Millie stares at her bed some more before rushing to her drawer. She pulls out a pack of sticky notes, then squeezes it in her bag.
Okay, now that’s it.
It takes extra effort to close her bookbag. She grunts as the zipper finally gives way, shutting the bag nice and tight. It looks a bit bulky, the corners of her books pressing against the material, but that’s what happens when you think of every scenario. It never hurts to be overly prepared, even if she’s only going to a harmless slumber party.
“Oof .” When Millie picks up her bag, her shoulders drop, the heaviness causing a big strain in her arms and lower back.
Well. Being overly prepared never hurts mentally, that is.
After thinking, then rethinking, then rethinking about her thinking, she’s ready to go. With careful, wobbly steps, she makes her way to her door, her bunny slippers gliding against the wooden floor. An empty hallway greets her, nothing around but the cool air blowing from the vents and the buzzing lights above.
CLANK.
The sudden noise makes Millie squeak. Her foot almost slides a bit too far, but she finds her balance just in time to avoid falling down. “H-Hello?” she calls, looking around the dimly lit hallway.
No response.
Huh... Must have been the wonky air conditioning. It keeps making weird sounds now, mostly throughout the night. Maybe she should try and tell a staff member about it.
That’s a problem for tomorrow, though. With a shrug, Millie turns back around and makes her way to the lobby.
The door to the lobby opens, then closes as Millie walks through. There’s nothing but the woosh of air.
Then: CLANK, CLANK, CLANK.
The air vents of Playa Des Losers dent slightly as Lauren crawls through, her knees burning slightly. Her eyes stay wide open, even as she passes through dust and grime, peaking through the slight cracks in the metallic walls.
“A slumber party, huh? And only girls are allowed.” A giggle, melodic and threatening all at once, echoes down the hall. The smile on her face grows. “Sounds fun …”
Knock, knock, knock .
Emma stands in front of Nichelle’s door. To calm herself, she rocks on her feet, her arms swinging back, then forth. It’s only been about a minute of waiting, but each second feels just as nerve wracking as the last.
It felt best to give this invite in person rather than slide it under her door like she did with Millie. Not to say Millie is less important. She’s very important! Nichelle just needs extra comfort, and Emma thinks it would work out perfectly face-to-face.
Emma shakes her head, trying her best to push down her optimism, just a tad. She doesn’t want to make Nichelle feel like there’s any pressure to accept or deny the invite. Besides, it’s not like she needs her to come to the slumber party.
Okay, maybe that’s a lie. She does need her to come to the slumber party, really badly. She made notes about it and everything. But still! Nichelle gets to make that choice in the end. And there’s nothing Emma could say or do to change her mind.
It’s just—she wanted to at least try and sell the idea. She wouldn’t consider herself an expert at persuasion, but she does know how to change a mind or two, especially with her barely contained, sunshine energy that never seemed to let up.
Just as she’s about to knock again—and it would have been the last time, or maybe the second last time—the door swings open. Nichelle leans against her door frame, putting on a smile that looks just as good as it does on movie screens.
Emma has never noticed how fake it looks until now.
“Hey, Emma,” Nichelle says so casually, it’s a surprise to know she had been crying a few hours ago. Her eyes drop to what’s in Emma’s hands. “What’s that?”
“It’s an invitation.”
“For me?”
“Mhmm!” Emma rushes to hand the invite over. Her hands slightly brush against Nichelle’s, and somehow, she feels warmth even after the physical contact is long gone.
Nichelle’s brow raises, her eyes scanning the front of the card. “‘You’re invited.’” She flips the card around to read the back. “Please, please, pleaseeeeee come.”
Emma feels her face flush. Maybe she wrote a little too desperately on this card. The all-caps and six exclamation marks are definitely overkill. “There’s, uh, stuff on the inside, too,” she squeaks.
“Oh, yeah.” Slowly, Nichelle takes a finger to unfold the paper. Her eyes trail from the left to the right, taking in every word. Her face doesn’t give away how she’s feeling about it, lips settled in a straight line.
Not one to just accept silence, Emma tries to sway her to Team Slumber Party. “It’s going to be super fun. We’ll play games, do some crafts, have girl talk, all the good stuff. It’ll only be us and Millie, ‘cause Chase sucks, and Scary Girl is… well, Scary Girl. I think she’s more into scaring than parties anyway.”
Emma lets out a tiny laugh, mostly to fill in the heavy, tense silence.
Nichelle doesn’t make a sound, her eyes still focused on the invitation.
Luckily, Emma prepared for something like this. Along with other things. (Seriously, she wrote a lot of notes.) “And I’ve got some nail polish, too—it’s kind of old, but it works good enough if you coat it, like, ten times, I swear—and we can find some snacks somewhere in the dining area, and oh, maybe squeeze in karaoke too, and—”
“I’ve never been to one,” Nichelle interrupts, her voice light.
Emma’s brain halts. “Huh?”
“A slumber party. I’ve never been to one.”
A part of Emma is shocked because this is Nichelle Ladonna. She seems like the type of girl to be invited any and everywhere. Then again, she’s been in the movie industry for as long as she could talk, at least according to her Wiki page (and Emma did not stalk it, thank you very much; she just liked to browse it on occasions). Maybe girls like Nichelle didn’t have time for silly, childish things like slumber parties.
Suddenly, Emma feels embarrassed. This was such a dumb idea. Why oh why would she expect a movie star to be anywhere near a slumber party, especially one hosted by someone who makes videos for social media? She’s probably used to things like soirées or other fancy-sounding words for parties with big platters of food and small talk about their bank accounts.
Oh, well. Emma is not one to accept defeat with a frown. At least, not in front of the opposing side. So she puts on her best smile, looks Nichelle in the eye, and asks, “So, what do you think?”
“I…” Nichelle’s mouth opens, then closes. She stands there, frozen for a few moments. Just as Emma is about to ask if she’s okay, she speaks again. “You know what? I’ll think about it. But thank you, Emma, seriously. This is too cute.” She does a tiny wave, invite in hand, and flashes another fake smile before she closes her door just as softly as she had opened it.
Emma stands there, staring at the wooden door for a good minute before turning on her heel to leave. She tries her hardest to keep her excitement at bay, but she can’t stop the way her skin tingles.
No point in dwelling on the what-ifs. She’d see if everything worked out later tonight.
(And if she shoots a quick prayer to the universe, then that’s nobody’s business but her own.)
“It’s fake.”
“Huh?”
“The contract. It’s fake.” Emma massages her hands. Her nails look like they've recently been through her teeth, chewed to uneven stubs. “Julia. She…”
Nichelle doesn’t need to hear the rest. That one name did enough.
Emma keeps talking, but it all sounds like it’s coming from a distance. The lake’s waves crash against the resort’s sandy beach. The drone whirs as it flies back to the main island. Each inhale she takes is met with a sharper exhale.
The world grows blurry, and then—
Nichelle blinks the tears away, forcing herself to focus on the walk ahead. Her hands clutch onto her tote bag, her bottom lip between her teeth.
No time to cry. She had done that enough times today. Her mother might have raised a quitter, but she did not raise a crybaby.
Besides, she should be happy now. She’s going to a slumber party. That should be exciting. Apparently. It’s hard to guess what’ll happen since this is her first time.
The only experience she’s had that was almost a slumber party yet not quite was during one of her movie shoots when she was very young. Since they were running on a tight schedule, the filming crew and directors all agreed to have everyone stay overnight and film for as long as it took to get each scene just right.
“It’ll be so much fun, I promise!” her agent had exclaimed the day of, smiling so brightly, she could blind a camera.
The whole thing had not been fun in the slightest. For twelve hours, they stayed at a beautifully decorated lot and said the same lines over and over until their mouths couldn’t say another word. Each room was brightly lit, burning her eyes more than the tiredness that slowly consumed her. It took a lot of work to make the right faces when the cameras were pointed in her direction. Even now, years later, she still feels some of the exhaustion from that day, following her like a shadow she can’t get rid of.
This one isn’t some job in disguise. It’s a real slumber party with real people acting like their real selves, not a script in sight.
That makes it much more terrifying.
Pushing back her nerves as best as she can, Nichelle forces her mind to stay in the present. The air vent’s insistent CLANK is somehow the only thing keeping her grounded.
When she reaches the door to the lobby, she grabs the ivory handle. Grips it, right until her knuckles turn white. Then, she releases all the tension in her hand and gently pushes open, a smile pasted on her face.
Emma jumps up from the floor, shocked and happy all at once. Her hair is in its usual side ponytail with a cat clip holding it up, and her pajama shorts match the clip perfectly. How cute. “Nichelle! You came.”
“Yeah…” Nichelle waves slowly at Emma, then turns to do the same at Millie, who’s lounging on the couch. “Hi.”
Millie blinks, clearly taken aback, then returns the wave with a crooked, forced smile. She’s in a simple sweater and baggy pajama pants that stop right at her ankles. The bunny slippers on her feet seem more glad than she is. “H-Hey,” she stutters.
Then, silence.
Damn, this is awkward. Now that she thinks about it, she isn’t particularly close to either of these girls. She can’t even remember the last conversation she had with Millie, if there had ever been one at all. And Emma… Well, after this season, they weren’t at the friendship stage, that’s for sure.
How are they supposed to get through a whole night like this?
Emma must notice the tension, or she can’t deal with silence for very long. Either way, she claps her hands, the sound echoing through the lobby. “So! Slumber party!” She plops back down on the ground. It looks like she already started some crafting. Piles of extremely colorful art supplies are circled around here.
“Slumber party,” Millie repeats, but she sounds less enthusiastic about it, her voice cracking with obvious nerves. Her hands fiddle with her notebook, her usual comfort item.
Nichelle’s mind tries to think of every sitcom she’s ever seen. Don’t people usually do activities together at slumber parties? Maybe presenting her gifts will help ease some of the tension.
“I have face masks for us.” Nichelle grabs them from her tote bag. “I got them during a special screening in South Korea.”
Emma beams as bright as the light shining above. “Ooo, nice!”
Millie’s eyes are more wary. “Are they good for sensitive skin?”
“Uh…” That is a question Nichelle did not prepare for. “I’m not sure.”
“Oh. I’ll probably pass, then, just in case.”
“Okay. That’s okay.”
More silence.
Alright, Nichelle knows a dead scene when she sees one, and this one is six feet under. Quitting must be the theme today because she’s ready to throw in the towel again. Maybe she should just go back to her room and—
“AHHHH!”
A familiar sounding scream cuts through the air. Nichelle jumps, then clutches at her chest, hoping her heartbeat slows. The packaged face masks go tumbling to the ground.
Millie’s reaction is more contained, her hands clutching against the couch’s cushions. “Was that—”
“ Ugh , Chase!” Emma confirms, crossing her arms. She doesn’t seem scared at all; if anything, she’s pissed. “He’s the absolute worst. Back when I held slumber parties at the beach house, he’d always scare my friends away for content. I bet he has a camera stashed here somewhere, just waiting for a good clip.”
That makes sense. Somewhat. Even though Nichelle didn’t interact much with Chase, she could tell he is a major prick with an ego that surpassed even hers. How Emma ever dealt with that guy for as long as she did is a mystery.
But the camera… She knows there isn’t a single camera here. Growing up around them makes it easier to know where to spot them. Chase is similar to the paparazzi: messy and only looking for content. They wouldn’t care too much about where the camera is hidden; they would just care about the content recorded. The bookshelves look normal, there’s no hint of a lens near the collection of DVDs, and the tables are pretty much bare, not an electronic in sight.
If Chase isn’t recording this whole thing, then what is it all for?
“But he sounded like he was in real danger…” Millie sounds concerned, or as concerned as one could feel for someone like Chase.
Emma shakes her head stubbornly. “Don’t fall for it. He’s a good actor when he wants to sell a good prank. Just ignore him. He’ll get bored eventually. He’s probably jealous because he wasn’t invited and never will be !” Her voice raises near the end of her sentence.
There's no retort to that, just a loud clank of the air conditioner again.
A long sigh escapes Emma’s lips. She plops down on the couch, leaning her head back against the cushions.“Only a pack of chips will save me,” she says, massaging at her temples. Then, she snaps her fingers. “Oh, shoot. I forgot to get the snacks because I got distracted.” She gestures to her art pile.
Millie is quick to stand. “I can go and grab them real quick.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
Emma sends her a grateful smile. “Thanks, Millie. I left them in the dining hall near the back.”
Millie nods in understanding before taking her leave, her bunny slippers sliding against the floor and her notebook in her hands.
Great, now there’s just two of them left. Maybe Nichelle should have gone to grab the chips instead. Millie was smart, using the opportunity to escape, if only for a short moment.
Nichelle knows that look all too well. Sometimes, when she’s watching scenes play out from the sidelines, she’ll notice how her costars pace about, their nerves evident in the way they mutter to themselves or massage their hands. She wants this to work so badly.
It’s a shame Nichelle is about to ruin that for her.
“So you said you have face masks?” Emma asks, her legs bouncing. “I never really tried them before, at least, none of the fancy ones you have, but—”
“Look, Emma,” Nichelle interrupts. She crouches down to Emma’s level and places a hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Emma asks, her voice pitching a little too much to be considered real. She should leave the acting to the professionals.
“I’m guessing the only reason you did this was to cheer me up. And even though that’s so sweet, it’s not necessary. I’m fine, honest. So I’ll just head back to my room and chill.” She puts on her best smile again.
The way Emma’s face falls so quickly sends a wave a guilt in the pit of Nichelle’s stomach, almost enough to wipe that smile off her face. “B-But I—”
“AHHHH! ”
That scream wasn't Chase.
The two freeze. The air conditioner isn’t making weird sounds anymore, leaving them with cool air and their shaky breaths.
“Was that…” Emma starts slowly, her hands trembling.
Nichelle answers for her, her heart in her throat. “Millie.”
Millie’s ears hurt. A lot.
She’d like to at least inspect her surroundings, but she can’t. Her field of vision is gone, the darkness enveloping her so much, she can’t help but curl in herself. She’s cold and terrified.
And falling. She is definitely falling.
She’d scream, but the force from the fall knocks the air out of her lungs. She doesn’t even know how she got in this situation. One moment, she’s in the dining hall, picking up snacks that Emma left behind. A small sticky note attached to the table caught her eye. She was able to read the words: 'Look for her below, but beware.'
Then, all of a sudden, the floor opened underneath her. And now she’s here. Falling.
Gosh, she really hates falling.
It’s only until she actually lands when she’s able to make any sound at all. “Oof !” The air is practically knocked out of her lungs, but other than that, she’s okay.
Surprisingly, there’s no pain. She looks down at what caught her. It seems to be the equivalent of a large pillow, probably something Chris would use in a challenge.
With a grunt, Millie rolls off the pillow and stands, looking around the room. There are a lot of weird things around: a bunch of totem poles to her left, some water skis to her right, and a weird standee of Céline Dion one would find in a music store in front of her.
“Where am I?” she asks herself quietly.
“Resort basement,” someone croaks from beside her.
Millie has to squint to confirm the source of that voice. “Chase?”
Chase is on the ground, a hand handcuffed to a metal pole. He waves with his free hand. “Hey, Millie...”
“And a big hello to me!”
A figure arises from the shadows, almost as if they were born and raised in them. Her nightgown brushes against the floor as a strange gust of wind blows from seemingly nowhere at all. The smile on her face is large and sharp, the definition of terrifying.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know who this is. “Lauren?” Millie squeaks.
Lauren does a curtsy so low, it’s a miracle her knees don’t snap in half. “In the flesh.”
Ah. Okay. This makes sense. Which is unfortunate because the only way Lauren, aka ‘Scary Girl,’ and ‘sense’ make their way into the same sentence is if ‘terror’ and ‘potential death’ are nearby.
Millie massages at her hands, trying to calm her nerves. “W-What is all this?”
“Well, a girl’s gotta get back in the scaring habit after months of worthless study, and you’re the best subject around!” Lauren answers casually with a wave of her hand. “I waited until you were all alone. And now I get to see how much I can make you scream while the others solve my riddle. Doesn’t that sound like a blast?”
“Uh.” Millie laughs, each ha more pitched than the previous one. “Yeah…?”
Separating at least one of them from the others was a smart move on Lauren’s part. There’s a reason why so many groups don’t make it out of horror movies: without a group’s foundation and dynamics, everything crumbles around them. But still…
“Why are you making that face?”
Millie jumps at Lauren’s question. “What face?”
“You’re having a thought, but you’re not saying it out loud.” Lauren frowns, and it’s probably the most chilling thing Millie has ever seen. “What is it?”
A smart person would probably keep their mouth shut. There’s already a low probability of survival as it is, what with the embodiment of fear being near her.
But when Millie gets a thought, she can’t help but say it aloud, especially when she’s asked.
“It’s just—” Millie gulps as Lauren moves closer to her, her face mere inches away from hers, and oh gosh, she might actually be living her last days here in some creepy basement with Chase of all people. “This seems incredibly… easy, doesn’t it?”
Lauren tilts her head, her eyes wide and unmoving. “What do you mean?”
“The clue. I caught a glimpse of it before falling, and it’s just—it’s really easy. To solve. At least in my opinion.” To ease her nerves, she plays with the long sleeves of her shirt, fingers curling against the cotton. “If you want to make a real horror, you have to implement some mystery and psychological aspects into it and follow the right steps.”
“Hm…” Lauren taps at her chin, her long, black nails poking at her pale skin. “I’m not good at mysteries. I tried depending on Chase for it, but…”
If Chase could cross his arms, he probably would have. Instead, he settles with a pout. “Hey, I said I could prank them, not scare them to literal death.”
Lauren’s eye twitches, her smile growing again. “Maybe if you let go of that camera and tried harder, then—”
“I can help out!” Millie blurts out.
Lauren’s blue eyes turn to her so quickly, it’s a shocker that they stay inside their sockets. “You can?”
“You can?” Chase sounds less amused.
Millie nods. “Sure, why not?”
“Uh, she literally kidnapped you?!”
Slightly good point. “‘Kidnap’ is a strong word here, isn’t it?” Millie tries to argue.
Chase’s jaw drops. Rightfully so. “You cannot be serious.”
But strangely enough, Millie is. Her mind just works like that sometimes. She sees something that interests her and boom , all of a sudden, she’s all in. Apparently, helping someone else through her own disappearance is her new interest. Better to play along instead of asking why that is.
“Okay.” Slowly, Lauren walks steps to Millie’s side, and though she’s taking up a lot of personal space, she doesn’t seem to mind. “Let’s say I let you in on my scare. What’s our first step?” Her eyes stare blankly ahead, almost as if she’s going to picture every word Millie says.
“Before anything, you have to know your characters first.” Millie pauses. “Or, er, your future victims. Gosh, ‘victim’ is kind of harsh, isn’t it?”
Lauren shrugs. “I don’t think so!”
“Of course, you don’t,” Chase grumbles.
“We’ve got Emma,” Millie starts. “A bundle of nerves. Throw a jump scare her way and she’ll bite her nails down faster than a beaver bites through wood. Probably the ideal type of person for this.”
Chase grows a smirk on his face. “Ha! She’s such a wimp when it comes to horror. One of the best people to prank.”
“And then we have Nichelle,” Millie continues.
“Oh, her? She’s careless. Probably easier to scare than Emma.” Chase shrugs.
Millie shakes her head. “Not entirely. You ever notice how she paints her nails?”
“They’re pink. Who cares?”
“Not the color, the detail,” Lauren answers correctly. “Every Thursday night, she does her nails the same exact way. Cuts and files them into a short, almond size before painting them in carnation pink, first the left side, then the right. It takes her around an hour to finish.”
“Why do you know that?”
“The same reason I know you’ve avoided watching Monster Slayers II this whole time, ‘cause you’re scared of the goblin.”
Chase clears his throat loudly. “Oh, uh, you must have me mistaken for Ripper—”
“Those are great points,” Millie interrupts, facing Lauren. “This means while you can afford to be obvious with your clues, you can’t be too obvious, especially later down the line. Otherwise, this whole thing will be over in a flash.”
Lauren tilts her head. “So, now what?”
“You focus on jump scares. And they work. Obviously.”
“But?”
“But I think we should focus on the psychological, too.” Millie takes in a deep breath. Time to seal the deal. “Do you know how terrifying it is for someone to break down every single part of you and compose it into a mind game that you feel you can’t control? And then, WHAM, you hit them with a scare so extreme, they see the other side.”
“Huh…” Lauren nods slowly. There’s a new smile on her face, one Millie has never seen before. It looks more innocently excited than scary. “Yeah, yeah, I wanna try your way instead!”
Phew. Perfect. Lauren took the bait, her eyes thrilled and hungry all at once.
Honestly, now that Millie is thinking about it, maybe she’s taken a little hold of the bait, too.
Gently, Lauren grabs a hold of Millie’s hands. Her skin is cool, yet comforting in a way, almost like a dip in the pool after a long, summer day. “Welcome to the team, partner.” She squeezes her hands before letting them go to turn toward Chase. “And you’re fired.”
Chase doesn’t seem to have a problem with that. “Great. Can I go now?”
“No.”
Chase definitely has a problem with that, though. “What? Why?!”
“You’ll ruin our scare by ratting us out, and that’s a big no-no.”
“But—”
Millie interrupts again, her brain buzzing with ideas she doesn’t want to lose from Chase’s complaints. “I came down through a trapdoor. I’m guessing there’s some sort of mechanism that brought me here?”
Lauren’s energy turns bright again as she turns away from her unfortunate prisoner. “Astute as always, Millie. Follow me.”
Lauren leads her to what looks like a control panel, positioned near two chairs and a large screen. The buttons below gleam and buzz, just begging to be messed with. They all seem to be labeled, making it easy to maneuver. From voice modulation to cameras to even lighting functions, this thing is basically a tech crew’s wish come true.
Millie ponders for a bit as she stares at the control panel, sinking into one of the seats. Distantly, she hears Lauren throw herself on the other, wind whipping as she spins around absentmindedly. Her fingers tap against her thighs, ideas flying through her mind like waves.
Millie has read a few horror novels in her spare time. Though each book has their major differences, they also have enough similarities where she can pinpoint the perfect things every author needed to include in order for them to score at least four out of five stars. It’s not an easy job, but she’s positive that she has the brain power to execute this correctly.
Once the idea clicks in her brain, she nods, determined. “Got any paper and a pen?”
“Here you go!” Somehow, Lauren swipes into thin air and pulls out a notebook and a pen that definitely looks like they were in Millie’s room before she left for the party.
Deciding to ignore that, Millie clicks her pen and opens a page in her notebook. “Okay. Here’s what we need to do first.”
Nichelle has only run this fast once. Back when she went through her vigorous training, her parkour teacher made her run around a huge building over and over, timing each lap to test both her speed and her stamina. “You’re not stopping until your time is under one minute,” he once barked out in that deep, grating voice of his.
Nichelle’s body sunk to the ground, her chest desperately heaving for air. “That’s literally impossible.”
“Is it? Or are you just making excuses?” Nichelle would never forget the way he crouched down to her level, looking down at her as if she were common trash. “If you want to be an embarrassment again, then that’s on you.”
She got it down to under a minute eventually.
The world around her blurs, her legs pumping with a burst of energy she’s still not used to, even after months of training. It’s admittedly harder to run with a matching silk pajama set and fluffy pink slides, but with every step she takes, she can hear a “try harder” or a “do better.” Her arms swing at her sides, her body leaned forward just right enough where she can boost her speed.
When she finally makes it to the dining area, it’s vacant. Her eyes whip around, trying to catch any hints. The fluorescent lights buzz above. There are some snacks thrown across the ground—bags of chips, packages of gummy bears—but no sign of Millie anywhere. Except…
Nichelle walks over and picks up Millie’s notebook, lying in the middle of the ground. She almost opens the thing, then decides against it. If she saw even a glimpse of her name in there, she’d probably break. And she’s not supposed to be breaking at a slumber party, even if said slumber party is going through a horror moment.
“Oh no. Nonono— please tell me this is a prank.”
Nichelle looks over her shoulder. Emma is farther back, standing near the table where the snacks once were, her body shaking. She walks over to look at what Emma’s picked up. It’s a message on a scrap of paper, written in handwriting that’s somehow messier than hers.
“‘If you want your precious friend back, you must solve my riddles to find her…’” Nichelle looks from the message to Emma. “What is this, one of Chase’s pranks?”
Emma shakes her head. “That’s not Chase’s handwriting.”
“You think it’s Scary Girl?”
“I don’t know. Riddles like this seem too tame for her, don’t you think?”
True… Nichelle bites her lip. If it’s not any of the other contestants, then it could be anybody. A staff member seeking revenge and potential compensation. Chris, with another one of his stupid schemes. Hell, it could be one of those sentient animals who roam around the outskirts of the resort every day.
Thinking too hard about it won’t get them any closer to answers. “Well, we have to find her.”
Emma nods in agreement. “Where would we start, though?”
The ground suddenly trembles, a loud creak entering the dining hall. Emma falls back with a yelp, but Nichelle is quick to catch her, one hand holding onto her waist while the other grips the table. Her eyes shut in concentration, trying to keep hold of Emma while also retaining her balance.
When the shaking and the creaking finally subsides, Nichelle slowly opens her eyes. Somehow, the wall near the back of the dining hall has opened. There is a set of stairs, leading down to… somewhere.
How ominous.
Emma stands upright again, but she stays close by anyway, and Nichelle finds herself appreciating the proximity. “Well, I guess we start here then?”
This is how people die in horror movies. Nichelle isn’t much of a horror movie enthusiast—she has a range and sticks to it like any other good actress—but even she knows the basics. If you want to keep your life, avoid running into danger and focus on finding help for yourself.
But, Millie… The girl might have a mind Nichelle will never understand, and she definitely lost a few points in her book after pushing poor Damien down that deadly excuse of a slide, but she doesn’t deserve to be in any sort of danger. If there’s any way to save her, she is going to take it, even if it is some creepy ass door leading to who knows where.
So, taking a deep breath, Nichelle walks alongside Emma into the unknown.