“Dad, we’re going to the, um . . .” I paused, squinting at the name of the café. Ciel Numérique. “Uh . . . whatever that says.”
“Ciel Numérique,” Oscar said. “It’s French, I think . . . Which is weird. I thought Aunt Lidia said they speak Dutch in Belgium.”
“Dutch, French, and German are all official languages here,” Dad replied promptly, heaving a speaker out of the van. “Be back at the hotel by nine, okay? Not a minute later, and no detours.”
“Okay.”
Oscar and I headed to the intersection and waited for the light. “You speak French?” I asked him.
“Portuguese,” he replied. “Sort of. My grandparents speak it—the only time I really use it is around them. Some of the words are similar to French and Spanish, though.”
“That’s really cool,” I said, reaching for the door. “I—ow!” A thin, pale woman with dark hair and a haughty expression pushed past us.
“Excuse you,” Oscar said loudly. Scowling, she glanced from Oscar to me, and her eyes widened a little. Shoving on a pair of oversize sunglasses, she hurried down the street toward the bus stop without so much as an apology.
“Rude,” Oscar muttered.
I stared at her retreating back, hit with a feeling of déjà vu. “I’ve seen her before, I think. Did she look familiar to you?”
“Nope.” Oscar pulled the door open, and I followed him inside. We found two free computers side by side and sat down. I powered on my computer and waited for it to load, thinking about the sunglasses woman. It wasn’t until I saw the coastal wallpaper on the desktop that I remembered.
“The waterfront!”
“What about it?”
“That’s where I’ve seen her,” I told Oscar excitedly. “The day on the waterfront in Rotterdam. I bumped into her and she dropped her camera. It was her, I’m positive.”
Oscar opened his browser. “So?”
“So don’t you think that’s kind of weird that she’s here now, the same time as us?”
He shrugged. “Just a coincidence. She’s a tourist. Brussels isn’t that long of a bus ride from Rotterdam.”
“I guess.” But something nagged at me. Closing my eyes, I pictured her: pale, pointed face, sunken cheeks, sharp nose, long, straight dark hair . . .
“Kat.”
“What?”
“Look at this.”
Leaning over, I stared at Oscar’s screen, and all thoughts of the snotty waterfront woman vanished.
P2P FAN FORUMS
Do you believe? Think again.
Anonymous
“The most fraudulent show on television” is heading to Brussels to visit Daems Penitentiary. Fake lightbulbs are nothing compared to what they’ve got planned for this episode—after all, they know it’ll be their last one. Desperate times call for desperate measures . . .
Maytrix [admin]
Anon, please set up an account.
presidentskroob [member]
what makes you so sure it’ll be the last episode?
YourCohortInCrime [member]
Rumor is if ratings aren’t up by Halloween, the show’s getting replaced with that new vampire series. The Brussels episode will air on Halloween, so it’ll probably be the last one.
randomsandwich [member]
don’t forget the curse. even if the show makes it, this is Jack’s last episode.
Anonymous
It’s everyone’s last episode.
AntiSimon [member]
You don’t know that for sure. The preview of the Crimptown episode they released yesterday is already getting a lot of buzz. I think ratings are going to be good for that one.
skEllen [member]
SAM LOOKED AMAZING IN THAT PREVIEW!!! I CAN’T WAIT!!!
Anonymous
[comment deleted by administrator]
skEllen [member]
WHAT????!!!!!!!11!!!!!!!!!!1!! D:
YourCohortInCrime [member]
Whoa. Anon, I was on your side. But death threats aren’t cool.
Maytrix [admin]
Post deleted. Sorry, all. Please keep an eye out for this troll and let me know if he pops up in another thread. I’m closing this one permanently.
“Death threat?”
Oscar frowned. “Why would he threaten anyone?”
“To cause trouble,” I said in disgust. “Look—that post says it’s my dad’s last episode, and then Roland said it’s everyone’s last episode. And then he followed that with a death threat. The fans will definitely talk about that.”
Oscar watched as I opened the forums on my computer and clicked CREATE NEW ACCOUNT. “Um, what are you doing?”
“Making a forum account.”
“Why?”
Logging into my e-mail, I opened the new message that had popped up asking for me to confirm my P2P forum membership. “Because I want to post. I can’t write about this on my blog since I promised Lidia I’d get approval first. But they can’t stop me from joining the forums.”
Oscar stared at me. “You’re not going to say anything about Roland, are you?”
I ignored him, already typing furiously.
“Don’t.” Oscar shook his head, and I smacked his hand away from the mouse. “No, seriously, Kat. Don’t post that.”
“Too late.” I clicked SUBMIT, then sat back in my chair. My heart was pounding like I’d just sprinted a mile. Oscar let out a long, slow breath.
“Roland’s going to be mad.”
“So?” I tried to sound indifferent. “I’m not going to let him get my dad fired.”
Oscar grimaced. “I’m starting to think firing your dad isn’t the worst thing he could do.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” I snapped, clicking back over to my e-mail. “Roland’s not actually going to hurt anyone. It’s just stupid publicity stuff.”
But I couldn’t shake off a tingle of fear. And as I wrote a long e-mail explaining everything to Jamie and Hailey, I kept glancing over my shoulder, half-expecting to see a furious Roland barge through the doors at any second.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
STALKER IN THE CITY
P2P FAN FORUMS
A Message for “Anonymous”
Doctor Pain [new member]
My name is Kat Sinclair, and my dad is the new host of P2P. Some of you have already seen my blog. I actually only started it for my grandma and my friends to read. But I’m glad you guys like the posts.
I’m a skeptic when it comes to ghosts, but since I joined P2P, I’ve honestly seen some stuff I can’t explain. (I didn’t fake that picture of the outline next to Lidia. I still haven’t figured out what that was.) I’m going to keep posting behind-the-scenes stuff about Brussels and the Daems prison episode, and hopefully more episodes after that. I hope you’ll share them with your friends and convince them to watch and decide for themselves what’s real and what isn’t.
And Anonymous, if you’re reading this: The only
