The Blonde Dies First by Joelle Wellington

Author:Joelle Wellington
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Published: 2024-07-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

With the athame in our grasp, we’re riding a high that not even Drew’s unfamiliar emotional state can dampen. She doesn’t speak the entire train ride home, so I overcompensate, throwing myself into conversation with anyone who’ll listen. It’s a bit of a debate, who’ll keep ahold of the athame, but one that’s settled by giving it to Gael for now. His mom won’t find it weird if she sees a goofy-looking knife in his room, especially if it’s in one of the bags from Freaks & Leeks. She’ll assume it’s a prop toy.

“But it’s gotta go to you eventually, Yaya. Jack Strode said that’s how we’d kill it, and you’re the Final Girl, so it’s gotta go to you,” Gael warns.

Yaya looks green at the idea but doesn’t say no. Not anymore.

“So… the demon is a sickness,” Leila declares into the brewing silence, repeating what I’ve just relayed from Avery’s explanation. “And it’ll infect us one by one.”

I latch on to the conversation, unable to deal with sitting in the ambient noise of the train car.

“It’s almost like an STI without any of the sex,” I say jokingly. Gael elbows me and I raise an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“I promise you won’t die a virgin,” he says solemnly.

“Oh, fuck you,” I bark sharply, and he does his obnoxious little jackal laugh that draws all the stink eye from the other passengers on the train. I stink eye right back at them. It’s one in the afternoon on a Sunday, they should be wide awake.

“No one is going to die at all,” Malachi says decisively. “None of y’all are allowed.”

“Hey, why don’t you tell the demon that,” Leila jokes.

Malachi smirks. “You don’t think I will?” Then he stills. “Maybe we can have Yaya say it. Give it a proper scare. What do you say?” It’s a kind way to check in on Yaya, but she still starts at her own name and looks over at both of us.

“I don’t think I’m up to saying anything to it,” she says quietly.

“Secretly, the villain is always afraid of the Final Girl,” Gael says firmly.

“Don’t say that,” Yaya mutters. “We should get inside someone’s house before it shows up.” She shakes herself as if that’ll make the nerves slide off her. “I need to… I’m not ready.”

“Not yet,” Malachi agrees. “But you will be. You’ve got it.”

There’s something isolating about it, I realize. The way we keep insisting that she’s different, even if we mean to inspire confidence. It’s not so different from when we gas up any of the others when they’re about to do something great. Something amazing. Like Gael with his films or Leila with her art or Malachi when he puts his heart on the line again. Except the stakes are higher. They mean more, and that means the confidence we’re channeling is unshakable. And for the briefest of moments and for the first time ever, I’m jealous of Yaya.

I only wish they would have that kind of confidence in me.

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