especially when you don’t clean your half of the room or stink up the place with black herb tea. But I don’t really mean it. And I doubt anyone else does, either. Whoever sent the note is just trying to freak you out.”
“It’s working,” I said, hugging my shivery arms.
So there were at least two threats. I wanted to ask if there’d been any more but couldn’t without causing suspicion. My heart pounded and I felt fear rising. I could understand why Sharayah needed a life break away from her stalker. It was risky for me, though, because I couldn’t tell Sharayah’s friends from her enemies.
“Come on, Rayah, it’s already way later than we planned to leave and I’m starting to get pissed,” she added accusingly. “Don’t push me, okay? I was nice enough to stay with Sadie last night so you could have privacy with James. Now I find you’re not even ready and still wearing his shirt.”
“James?” I fingered the shirt. “That guy who left this … um … my boyfriend?”
“Ha, ha. Funny, Rayah,” the roommate said with a wry chuckle. “As if you’re ever serious with one guy. Sadie is waiting in the parking lot. Time to hit the road.”
“Road?” My stomach lurched.
“Screw your hangover, we’re leaving now.” She yanked me to my feet — she was surprisingly strong despite being almost a head shorter than me. “Sadie is doing the driving and you can sleep it off on the way. Let’s get out of here.”
“But I can’t go or I’ll miss seeing—” I cut off, realizing I’d said too much.
“Seeing who?” she asked icily.
“Um … it’s hard to explain.”
“Don’t tell me this has to do with that slacker James.” She folded her arms across her busty chest, narrowing her gaze as if daring me to cross her. “I warned you he was only after one thing, which he obviously got since you’re wearing his shirt.”
“This has nothing to do with him.” I had a sudden desire to rip off the shirt and take a shower. A long, hot, deep, body-cleaning shower.
“Then who?” she asked suspiciously. “Remember our Hands-off-Exes agreement. You better not be hitting on Kyle. Even though he’s a scumbag and I am so over him, it would be too weird to see you two together.”
“No, no! I mean … this isn’t anyone you know.”
“Then he can’t be very important, can he?” She smiled. “Let’s go.”
“I–I can’t! I have to stay and wait for—”
“Forget it! No guy is messing with our plans. We’re leaving now.”
“But I can’t go without at least leaving him a message!”
“Call him later.”
“My phone is broken.” I lifted the phone, shaking it so she could hear the rattle.
“Oops. I won’t even ask how that happened.” The roommate chuckled wickedly. “But no prob — you can use my phone.”
“Thanks. Where is it?” I held out my hand.
“In the car — where we’re gonna be in a few minutes.” Grabbing my hand, she yanked me toward the door. “We are leaving now.”
“Wait!”
“Sure, why don’t we wait?” she added with an ominous arch of her brow. “Let’s give your stalker plenty of time to find you. Maybe the note isn’t a joke. It could be the real deal and some psycho might really want to kill you.”
“Kill me?” I gulped.
“A note that says ‘I’ll watch you die’ isn’t exactly a love letter. But you must be braver than me. I can’t stop you if you’d rather wait around for your stalker than enjoy a fabulous vacation with your girlfriends.”
“Okay, I’ll go — but not wearing this.” It was hard to think clearly; all that was clear was fear. “I’ll change fast.”
“I bet you will.” Her smile was smug.
It was embarrassing to sway as I tried to walk, then stumbled around searching through three drawers before I found jeans that looked too long but fit great. Then I grabbed the first shirt I saw, something blue and long-sleeved. Relieved to take off the offensive James shirt, I tossed it aside and slipped into the blue top.
If only it were as easy to change out of this body and back to my own. Being my boyfriend’s sister was bad enough — but being a target of a psycho terrified me. I couldn’t exit the room fast enough. We made it down the hall and around a corner before I realized I didn’t have Sharayah’s purse — which held her ID, credit cards and the thick wad of cash.
“Oops! My purse!” I started to make a U-turn until Sharayah’s roommate gave me an icy look that stopped me cold.
“Stay right here,” she ordered. “I’ll get it.”
Reluctantly, I waited, glancing around nervously as if a stalker might pop out from a corner. I oozed relief when I saw pink hair and black leather.
She shoved the purse at me, then led me toward a set of stairs. I realized I was forgiven when she hooked her arm into mine and actually smiled. It was amazing how a simple smile made her face shine with a beauty I hadn’t noticed until now.
“Venice Beach, here we come,” she rang out cheerfully. “If there’s time, we might even hop over the border for some serious partying in Mexico.”
“Venice Beach? Mexico?” I repeated.
“That’s all we’ll manage in a week, although I’d love to hit Lake Havasu, too. I’ve always wanted to try some of that boat-to-boat partying,” she announced with a jazzy dance move. “Bring on the beach, booze and badass dudes — spring break begins now!”
Her tone was upbeat but underlined with a warning not to cause any problems, and I didn’t want to cross her anymore than I wanted to hang around and risk an attack from a stalker. Besides, if I didn’t go with her, I’d break GEM rule #1.
Apparently, one of my obligations was a vacation of partying.
Sorry, Eli, I thought. I’ll call you later.
Then I left for spring break.
* * *
I followed Sharayah’s roommate (what was her name anyway?) down a steep stairway, then through a maze of dimly lit halls to double glass doors that led outside to the parking lot. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched and kept looking around, but never saw anyone. Still, my uneasiness lingered.
It was foggy out and eerie lamps glowing like demon eyes around the parking lot added a gloomy theme to my personal nightmare. As we moved through rows of vehicles, their hulky shapes reminded me of crouching monsters. I shivered, wrapping my arms around a too-tall body that was so thin I could feel my ribs.
I peered back at the shadowy dorm I’d just left; three stories of bricked housing surrounded by shrubs and walkways. It looked traditional yet modern, the kind of dorm I hoped to attend someday with my best friend. Alyce and I had toured half a dozen campuses together, dreaming about what we’d do once we graduated from high school to real life: share a dorm room, study together, and score prestigious internships. Alyce had a trust fund and (grades permitting) she could pick and choose her college. But until recently I doubted I’d even be able to afford night classes due to my family’s lack of finances, and I envisioned a future of flipping burgers at some dead-end job. Then a miracle had happened — I was offered a scholarship to a college of my choice.
But being here wasn’t my choice. This was not how I imagined college life, isolated without my real friends and stumbling around in the wrong body. The simple act of walking felt all wrong, my strides so jerky that when I stumbled, only a quick grab on a rail saved me from a nasty fall. Fortunately my roommate didn’t notice, or else assumed I was too wasted to walk straight … and maybe I was.
“What took you so long?” a petite girl with shiny jewels woven in her long brown braid asked, stepping away from the silver SUV she’d been leaning against. Gold bracelets jangled from her tiny wrists and she wore a designer chiffon blouse with a midnight-blue miniskirt and knee-high black boots.
