Chapter 2: Targets
Four months had passed since Matty Clements vanished. Four months since Astra and her sister had last spoken.
Ever since that movie night, Ali had treated her as if she were invisible—at home, at school, everywhere. No shouting. No accusations. Just a wall of silence.
It had started that very night.
The night Matty disappeared.
After scrubbing the blood from her skin and rinsing it from Bon Bon’s white fur, Astra had showered, washed her hair, and collapsed onto her bed, exhausted. She remembered the weight of sleep pressing down on her, thick and dreamless—
—until she was yanked back to consciousness by arms wrapping around her so tightly she could barely breathe.
Her mother.
Mary’s fingers were tangled in Astra’s still-damp hair, her face buried against it, tears soaking through the strands. The sobbing was raw, ugly, uncontrollable. It shook the bed. It shook the room.
It shook her memory.
Bon Bon had been woken too, his little rabbit mouth opening in a wide, irritated complaint before he realized what was happening. It was the sound of their mother’s grief that snapped everything into place.
The theater.
She had left her mother and her sister at the theater.
She and Bon Bon had slipped out after she excused herself to the restroom. She was supposed to go back to her seat beside her mother. Instead, she had followed Matty. Climbed onto the roof of a speeding car. Used him as bait.
It had been simple.
Convince Matty he wanted to run away. Let the creature do the rest.
The thing had conjured a car out of thin air—complete with a fake, smiling family inside—to lure him. They had predicted that part perfectly. They always did their homework. They followed. They waited for the moment it revealed itself.
They miscalculated one detail.
The creature was stronger than it looked.
It had flung her off the car like she weighed nothing. Played with them. Slipped away. And Matty—well.
Wasted bait.
Astra had been annoyed. Not frightened. Not guilty. Just annoyed.
And in that irritation, she had forgotten that her mother and sister were still sitting in a dark theater, waiting for her to come back from the restroom.
She hadn’t meant to leave them there. The plan had been quick—catch it, return before the credits rolled. Clean and efficient.
But the plan had failed.
By the time she remembered anything, she was already home.
Ali had walked into the bedroom while Mary was still clutching Astra to her chest. Astra remembered the look in her sister’s eyes—pure, blazing rage. There had been a bright red imprint across Ali’s cheek, the mark of five fingers. Astra had stared at it, vaguely curious.
How festive, she had thought. Only one cheek, though. Strange choice.
Bon Bon, in a moment of sharp temper at being woken so dramatically, had snapped his small rabbit teeth against their mother’s neck. The bite hadn’t broken skin—his teeth weren’t strong enough—but Mary had mistaken it for hunger and carried Astra downstairs to get food.
Her sister had been left alone in the doorway.
Astra remembered the way her sister touched her own cheek afterward, hissing softly at the sting.
And somehow, Ali had decided that silence was worse than screaming.
Back in the present, Astra pinned another photograph to the tracking board on her wall—a little girl’s face cut neatly from a missing poster. The map of Derry spread across the center, red string and ink marks crisscrossing between locations. Matty’s photo sat near the top, connected to the Derry movie theater with a dark, deliberate line.
Since his disappearance, more children had gone missing.
A pattern was forming.
She and Bon Bon had intercepted several targets before the creature could take them, but something about their presence changed its behavior. Whenever it sensed them, it transformed—grotesque, theatrical, exaggerated forms clearly meant to terrify.
They never were.
Instead, the creature grew almost… animated. Excited. It would shift shapes rapidly, as if performing, before snatching its intended victim and vanishing without giving them a clean opening.
It was rude, honestly.
“Maybe we should change tactics,” Bon Bon said thoughtfully, a box of chocolate cookies clutched in his plush paws.
Astra glanced at him. “Oh?”
“Approaching the prey first isn’t enough,” he continued, gnawing at the cardboard with casual determination. His long white ears tilted toward the board, toward Matty’s picture—where two arrows extended from his face.
Astra followed his gaze.
Two words were written there in bright red ink.
Friends.
Crush.
Understanding bloomed immediately. Her smile widened, slow and delighted.
“More bait?” she asked sweetly.
Bon Bon’s stitched grin stretched further. “More bait.”
Satisfied, Astra circled the two words. Then she opened the cookie box and handed him one. He accepted it with exaggerated dignity.
“Astra, honey. Dinner’s ready.”
Her mother’s voice floated up the stairs.
“Coming!” Astra sang back, cheerful as ever.
She scooped up Bon Bon and, with a quick, unapologetic motion, confiscated his half-eaten cookie.
“Hey!” he protested.
“Dinner first,” she said firmly. “You’ll ruin your appetite.”
They left the room, laughing softly to themselves.
On the wall, the board remained—Derry at the center, surrounded by smiling photos of missing children. Above Matty’s picture, two arrows pointed outward, circled in red.
Friends.
Crush.
A better plan.
This time, they wouldn’t forget anything.
___
In the suffocating stillness of her darkened bedroom, Ali sat hunched at her desk, her chin resting on her palm, her eyes closed as if shutting out the world might silence the noise inside her head. She had no sense of time anymore. Day and night had blurred together into the same dull gray.
When she finally lifted her gaze to the old alarm clock on the bedside table, its faint ticking sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet. Morning had long since passed. She had been locked away in her room for hours—since breakfast, at least. Her parents hadn’t called her to eat. Not for breakfast. Not for lunch. They probably wouldn’t call her for dinner, either.
They might not even remember she was here.
A bitter smile tugged at her lips.
Four months had passed since Matty disappeared. Even now, the memory of that morning at school still struck her like cold water. The hushed voices in the hallway. The teachers whispering. The word missing spreading from mouth to mouth like a sickness.
She had known something was wrong long before anyone said it aloud.
That night, she’d felt it—an unease she couldn’t explain, settling deep in her chest like a warning she didn’t understand. And later, as her mother drove them across the bridge, she saw it. The family car, wrecked and abandoned on the roadside just beyond the guardrail, its metal frame twisted under the pale glow of the streetlights. Beneath the bridge, caught in the slow, black current, something small drifted in the water.
A pacifier.
Matty’s.
Even then, she hadn’t allowed herself to think the worst. She had only thought something terrible had happened—not that he had vanished completely.
But what haunted her most wasn’t the wreckage. It was the look he had given her that same night at the movie theater. Their eyes had met across the dim lobby, just for a moment. In his expression, there had been something fragile, something urgent—like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Like he needed her to listen.
Like it was the last chance he would ever have.
And she had looked away.
She had been embarrassed—ashamed of the childish rabbit puppet her younger sister carried everywhere, afraid of being laughed at. So she pretended not to see him. Pretended not to notice the silent plea in his eyes.
By morning, he was gone.
The guilt had never loosened its grip on her chest. It lived there now, heavy and permanent.
Still… missing didn’t mean dead.
Ali straightened slowly in her chair, her fingers curling into tight fists in her lap. That single thought was the only thing she allowed herself to hold onto. Missing meant somewhere. Somewhere real. Somewhere reachable.
Somewhere he could still be breathing.
A soft knock broke the silence.
Ali startled, her heart lurching as her eyes snapped toward the door. She listened carefully. There was the faint scrape of porcelain against wood, then the quiet retreat of footsteps down the hallway.
She already knew who it was.
When she opened the door, a plate sat on the floor, piled with slices of meat that had long since cooled. No note. No voice. Just the offering.
It had to be Astra.
Their parents might forget she existed, but Astra never did.
Ali stared at the plate for a long moment before picking it up, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge. The gesture was small, almost meaningless, yet it stirred something complicated inside her chest.
She hadn’t spoken to her sister since that night.
The night everything fell apart.
They had gone to the movies together, the three of them. At some point, Astra had asked to go to the restroom—and then she hadn’t come back. Minutes passed. Then more. Their mother’s worry had grown into panic, sharp and frantic.
And when Astra was finally found, the panic turned into blame.
Ali could still hear her mother’s voice—cold, furious, unforgiving.
She lifted her hand unconsciously, brushing her fingertips against her left cheek. The skin was smooth now, long healed, but the memory of the slap remained vivid. The shock. The sting. The silence that followed.
Her mother had never hit Astra.
Not once.
Why?
The question had no answer, yet it lingered constantly, whispering in the back of her mind. They were both her daughters. Yet Astra was cherished—protected, forgiven before she had even done anything wrong. Ali, on the other hand, existed somewhere at the edges of her mother’s attention, acknowledged only when something went wrong.
She had spent her entire life trying to be good. Quiet. Responsible. Invisible.
And it had never been enough.
Astra, impulsive and impossible to control, had always stood at the center of everything. Even when she hurt others. Even when she caused trouble. Even when she frightened people.
Ali had told herself she hated her for it.
Sometimes, she almost believed it.
But standing there now, holding the plate her sister had left behind, she felt the truth settle heavily in her chest.
She didn’t hate Astra.
She hated how much Astra still cared.
Because without that small, stubborn kindness—without those quiet reminders that someone in this house still saw her—Ali wasn’t sure she existed at all.
____
The next day
Morning settled over Derry High School in a slow, familiar rhythm. Students poured through the front doors in loose waves—boys shoving each other with careless laughter, girls leaning shoulder-to-shoulder as they whispered and giggled. Lockers slammed. Shoes squeaked against the polished floors. Life went on, loud and ordinary.
At the curb, Astra lingered beside the car while her mother fussed over her for the third time in less than a minute.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to pack something for you?” her mother asked, voice soft with worry. “What if the cafeteria food isn’t good? Or it isn’t healthy enough?”
Astra suppressed a sigh. Her mother had already asked twice. Ali had slipped away early, escaping the ritual entirely, leaving Astra alone to endure it.
“I’ll eat at school,” Astra said, patient in the way children learned to be when resistance was pointless.
Her mother hesitated, searching her face for something—hesitation, weakness, need—but Astra offered none. After a moment, she relented, brushing invisible lint from Astra’s sleeve before letting her go.
Astra turned and walked toward the entrance, her red hair catching briefly in the morning light before the doors swallowed her into the hallway.
She never understood why adults worried so much about lunch.
It wasn’t like she ate it.
As she walked, the white rabbit puppet resting over her hand tilted its head slightly, its glassy blue eyes scanning the hallway with exaggerated curiosity.
“Well?” Bon Bon whispered, his small voice bright with anticipation. “Who are we playing with today?”
Astra’s gaze drifted across the moving crowd, calm and deliberate.
“Not playing,” she murmured. “Hunting.”
Bon Bon’s ears perked. “Oh, that’s even better.”
Matty Clements had been missing for four months.
Four quiet months of candlelight vigils, paper flyers curling on telephone poles, and tired adults pretending hope was something that could be preserved if they said his name enough times. No body. No answers.
Just absence.
Astra doubted there was much left of him to find.
Their plan was simple: find the ones who mattered most to him. The ones whose grief still bled fresh beneath the surface. People like that were bright. Loud. Easy to notice.
Easy to follow.
And whatever had taken Matty would notice them too.
A gathering of grieving children was an invitation.
A buffet.
Bon Bon leaned closer to Astra’s ear. “So, which sad little lamb are we borrowing?”
Before she could answer, a boy in a bulky green turtle costume stumbled into their path, thrusting a stack of paper flyers toward them.
“Bert the Turtle says, ‘Duck and Cover!’”
He sounded proud of it.
Bon Bon froze.
Slowly—very slowly—his nose wrinkled.
“…I don’t like him,” he muttered.
The boy blinked, uncertain whether the comment had been meant for him.
Astra stepped past without taking a flyer.
She had never liked turtles.
She didn’t know why. The feeling had no shape, no origin—only a quiet, persistent urge, like an itch beneath the skin.
Beside her, Bon Bon twisted halfway around to glare openly at the costumed boy, baring his small buck teeth in theatrical offense.
The boy flinched and hurried away, his stack of flyers tilting dangerously.
Bon Bon let out a soft, satisfied huff.
“Problem solved.”
“Focus,” Astra said.
“I am focused,” Bon Bon replied indignantly. “I’m focusing on hating him.”
Astra ignored him.
Her attention had already shifted.
Ahead, two girls were walking side-by-side. One had messy black curls that bounced with every step. The other, shorter , wore thick glasses that magnified her eyes, her posture slightly folded inward as if apologizing for taking up space.
Astra slowed.
Her gaze fixed on the girl with the dark curls.
Recognition came easily.
Not from memory.
From instinct.
“Lilly Bainbridge,” Astra whispered.
The name felt right in her mouth.
Bon Bon followed her stare, his ears lifting with interest.
“Oh,” he said softly. “Her.”
Astra said nothing, but the faint curve at the corner of her mouth lingered a second too long to be accidental.
Further down the hall, unnoticed, Ali stood among her friends.
She wasn’t listening to their conversation.
Her eyes were fixed on Astra.
On the stillness in her younger sister’s posture. On the way she watched people—not like a student, not like a child, but like something waiting.
Ali couldn’t explain it. The feeling came without reason, sudden and cold.
Astra turned slightly, and for a moment, their eyes almost met.
Ali’s breath caught.
There was nothing obvious in Astra’s expression. Nothing she could point to later and explain.
And yet—
Her hand rose unconsciously to the bracelet around her wrist, her thumb brushing over the small turtle charm her grandmother had given her years ago.
The smooth metal steadied her.
Across the hall, Astra was already walking again, Bon Bon murmuring something only she could hear.
They didn’t look back.
____
Standing by the window of her bedroom, Ali watched the figure of her younger sister making her way back toward the house.
Astra didn’t look like someone who had just sneaked out in the middle of the night. She strolled along the path at an unhurried pace, occasionally spinning around, idly admiring the puppet on her hand as though she had been outside for nothing more suspicious than a pleasant walk.
Ali narrowed her eyes.
Something about it felt wrong. Astra was always… strange. Secretive. As if she were constantly involved in things no one else understood. And lately, with Matty gone missing, that uneasy feeling in Ali’s chest had only grown stronger.
Somewhere deep down, she couldn’t shake the thought that Astra knew more than she let on.
Her fingers tightened on the windowsill.
A few minutes earlier, she had woken from a dream.
Not an ordinary dream.
In it, she stood in an endless, silent space—no sky, no ground, no horizon. Only a vast emptiness stretching in every direction. And in that emptiness stood a turtle.
A massive turtle.
Its shell was ancient and scarred, its eyes dark and impossibly old. The two of them simply faced one another, unmoving, as if locked in a silent understanding.
Then the turtle’s mouth moved.
Slowly.
As if trying to speak.
Ali was certain it had been saying her sister’s name.
She had woken to a loud metallic crack outside.
When she rushed to the window, she saw Astra below, casually shaking her leg after kicking the lamppost hard enough to break it.
That was how Ali knew Astra had sneaked out.
But why… she had no idea.
And the dream lingered in her mind like an unfinished sentence.
A faint creak broke the silence of the room.
Ali turned sharply.
The wardrobe.
One of its doors shifted slightly.
Another creak followed.
Something thin and pale slipped through the gap.
A hand.
The fingers were unnaturally long and skeletal, skin clinging tightly to bone like old parchment. The hand pushed the door wider with a slow, deliberate motion.
Then a second hand appeared, opening the other side.
Ali’s heart clenched.
A cold pressure wrapped around her lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
Her instincts screamed at her to run.
But her body refused to move.
Her gaze drifted to the creature’s fingers.
Something glinted faintly in the dim light.
A ruby ring.
The sight of it tugged at her memory.
She had seen that ring before.
Somewhere.
“Alisson… my dear.”
The voice slithered from the darkness inside the wardrobe.
It sounded old.
Dry.
Wrong.
Ali’s skin prickled as the creature leaned forward.
A face emerged from the shadows.
Gaunt. Twisted. Stretched over a skull-like structure that barely resembled a human face anymore. Its skin sagged loosely, its lips shriveled and grey, revealing teeth that were far too long and far too sharp.
The thing wore a silk dress—the sort elderly women used to wear decades ago.
It looked like a corpse that had been left too long in the ground.
And yet…
Something about it felt horribly familiar.
Not the creature itself.
But the person it resembled.
Why did she feel like she had seen this face before?
And why—
Why did the sight of it fill her with guilt?
A sharp pain stabbed through her skull.
The room flickered.
Memories surged forward like broken glass cutting through her thoughts.
Blood.
So much blood.
A scream that tore through the walls.
A face so badly gnawed that it barely looked human anymore.
A blood-soaked hand reaching toward her.
She saw herself again—small, trembling, barely seven years old—rocking the motionless body of someone lying in a pool of something sticky and red that smelled sickeningly sweet, like strawberry syrup.
The living room of their old house was in ruins.
Papers were scattered everywhere, ripped apart as though something had shredded them with claws.
Where was Astra?
Where had she gone?
A low growl sounded behind the younger version of herself.
The memory shattered.
Ali clutched her head, wincing.
She didn’t notice the creature approaching until she lifted her gaze.
It was right in front of her now.
Its jaw unhinged wider than any human mouth could possibly open.
Rows of needle-like teeth glistened inside the darkness of its throat.
Ali tried to scream.
Tried to run.
But when she looked down—
Two impossibly long arms had stretched from the creature’s body, wrapping tightly around her torso.
They had extended like rubber.
Like something that did not obey the laws of flesh or bone.
She couldn’t move.
The creature tilted its head slightly, studying her like a toy it was about to break.
Ali squeezed her eyes shut.
And waited.
Then—
CRASH.
Something exploded through the window.
Glass shattered across the room as a small figure slammed into the creature with brutal force.
The impact sounded like a hammer striking bone.
The creature was launched backward, its head snapping violently to the side as it flew through the doorway and into the hallway wall.
The door tore from its hinges and skidded across the floor.
The arms around Ali vanished instantly.
She stumbled back, gasping.
Standing where the creature had been was Astra.
She looked perfectly fine.
Not even winded.
As if crashing headfirst into a nightmare strong enough to rip doors off frames was nothing more than mild exercise.
She glanced down at Ali briefly.
“Still alive? Good.”
Her tone carried the casual relief of someone checking whether a toy had survived a fall.
Beside her, the white rabbit puppet lifted its head slightly, ears twitching as it listened toward the hallway.
Low growls echoed from the darkness beyond.
The creature hadn’t left.
Bon Bon’s ears perked up with interest.
The two of them had spent days setting traps trying to locate that thing.
And somehow, it had walked straight into Ali’s room instead.
Before Ali could even form a question, Astra was already moving.
She dashed into the hallway like a bullet.
What followed sounded less like a fight and more like two wild animals tearing into each other.
Ali rushed after her, heart pounding violently.
The hallway lights flickered as she reached the doorway.
Astra had the creature pinned against the wall.
Her teeth were clamped around its neck.
She bit down hard.
The creature shrieked, its claws raking across Astra’s arms and shoulders. The force of the blows would have shredded an ordinary person.
Astra didn’t seem to care.
Her hands gripped the creature’s limbs like steel restraints, forcing them outward while she leaned her full weight into the bite.
The creature twisted violently, its skeletal body bending at angles that should have snapped bones.
How was this child so strong?
It tried to dodge her strikes, but Astra moved with unsettling speed tonight—quicker than the creature had ever seen before.
Fury rippled through its decaying body.
With a wet tearing sound, another arm burst from the side of its hip.
The new limb lashed toward Astra’s face, claws aimed for her eyes.
Astra tilted her head.
The claws sliced through empty air.
In the same motion, she slammed her heel down onto the arm.
The impact crushed it against the floor with a sickening crunch.
The creature screamed.
Meanwhile, Bon Bon had joined the fun.
The white rabbit leaned forward and bit straight into the creature’s left hand, his teeth sinking deep enough to tear through grey flesh.
The creature shrieked again.
It grew another arm in desperation, scooping up dust and debris from the floor before blasting it straight into Astra’s eyes.
Astra flinched and jumped back, rubbing them.
The creature seized the opportunity.
Its body began dissolving into the surrounding shadows like ink bleeding into water.
It had no interest in continuing this fight.
That girl was wrong.
Not human.
The pain from her earlier strike still throbbed deep inside its skull, like something had hit the very center of its being.
It needed to learn more about her.
Its fading eyes lingered on Astra as she wiped dust from her face.
Then the creature vanished completely.
The hallway fell silent.
Astra blinked a few times before shrugging.
“Rude,” she muttered.
Bon Bon tilted his head toward the darkness where the creature had been.
Then the two of them simply turned around and headed back toward Astra’s room as if nothing unusual had happened.
Ali stood frozen in the wreckage of the hallway.
Her bedroom door lay splintered on the floor.
Glass glittered across the carpet.
And somewhere deep in the darkness of the house, the echo of that creature’s voice still crawled through her mind.
Leaving her trembling.
And very, very alone.
____
The next morning at the Smiths’ house, the atmosphere was a little strange. The parents were busy cooking in the kitchen, but the two sisters... Ali didn’t take a bite of the pancakes, instead just staring intently at her younger sister. Astra didn’t eat either; she just poked her fork at the hot, crispy bacon in front of her without any intention of eating. Bon Bon was different from the two sisters; he buried his bunny face in his plate and gnawed away at the bacon.
Ali regretted not being able to use her own eyes to see right through her sister, wanting to know what exactly made Astra so special. This morning, when her parents discovered her bedroom door was badly damaged tore from the hinges, they didn't scold her at all, especially her mother. They calmly called a repairman to replace the door today, showing no intention of reprimanding her. Strangely, given her mother's personality, Ali should have been severely reprimanded, but for some reason, she was very gentle today, smiling brightly, yet in a way that was quite frightening.
Ali wanted to know what special ability Astra possessed that caused such strange things to happen around her. Besides, the thought of the creature that appeared in her bedroom last night sent shivers down her spine. She wanted to know why her younger sister had the power to drive it away; beside, wasn't her sister walking on the road in front of the house before it appeared? How did she end up on Ali's window?
With those questions in mind, Ali ignored the delicious pancakes in front of her and focused on Astra's every move, as she boredly poked her fork into the bacon in front of her.
For some reason, Astra felt a lack of appetite today. She couldn't bring herself to bite into the bacon her mother had specially cooked for her, even though it looked delicious. The crispy exterior and juicy interior should have made her devour dozens of pieces, but today was different. She felt that everything in front of her didn't look appealing at all; it didn't taste as good as it used to. The taste she had yesterday when she bit into that creature's neck—that bite truly pierced through its skin and flesh, breaking through its shell and reaching deep into its core. The warm sensation as her teeth seemed to touch the light within the creature was so comforting, so incredibly delicious. It was so good that she couldn't sleep last night. So delicious that this morning, looking at the bacon in front of her was like looking at dry paper. So delicious that she ignored her older sister's scrutinizing gaze. She doesn't know what her sister is doing anymore.
But she did notice their mother’s presence as she approached her, gently placing a kiss on the side of her heas, and affectionately asking, “What’s wrong, dear? Was the cooking not good today?” she asked, alluding to Astra’s untouched bacon.
The girl shook her head, leaning against her mother as she wrapped her arms around her. "No, it's just that I don't have an appetite today. Can I go to school a little earlier today, Mom?" she asked, her left hand vigorously wiping Bon Bon's greasy face with her napkin, making the little rabbit protest in vain.
If Mary Smith's word is absolute in this house, then Astra Smith's word is supreme. Because her words can command obedience, just like now. And so, because Astra skipped breakfast and wanted to go to school earlier than usual, Ali had to forgo breakfast as well just so her mother could drive her to school without leaving her behind.
Annoyed, Ali rubbed her rumbling stomach, but she didn't forget her duty to observe Astra; she didn't want to miss anything unusual. Astra, however, still looked very dejected in the car. She wasn't hungry, she just craved it. She longed to bite into that creature again. Seeing her so dejected, Bon Bon became curious and asked, "Hey, what's wrong with you all morning?"
His voice held a mix of curiosity and worry. Since yesterday, he'd noticed she'd been acting strangely, always lost in thought, and refusing to eat breakfast.
Sighing, the girl confessed to him, "I want to see that creature again. Do you remember yesterday when I bit into it?" she asked him.
He nodd.
"It tastes so good, it tastes amazing. I don't know how to explain it, it just tastes delicious to me. Sounds strange, right?" she continued.
Hearing her words, Bon Bon pondered the matter in his little head. Last night, it wasn't just her who tasted the creature when she bit into it; he did too. Just as she said, it tasted delicious. Even if he buried his rabbit face in countless slices of bacon this morning, they wouldn't taste as good.
So he glanced at Ali, who was watching them intently, before whispering to Astra, "So the plan is still going ahead, right? I mean, you're planning to use that annoying little brat as bait to lure the creature out?" He pointed toward Ali; he didn't like her, but he was also a little surprised that Astra wasn't mind to use someone she considered her sister as bait.
Astra hummed,she really didn’t intend to use her sister as bait. She only intended to use Bainbridge and Matty’s old friends as bait to lure the creature out. It’s just that after everything that happened yesterday, it seems her sister has something that attracts the creature. So, she hopes her sister understands; she won’t let her sister die, she just wants to lure the creature out.” “Of course,” she replied.
As the car neared the school, Astra continued to ponder her and Bon Bon's plan. If she had correctly assessed the instability and psychological state of a girl like Lily Bainbridge, then after hearing Matty's voice from the sewers, Bainbridge would think about it this morning, leading her to believe that the pacifier-loving boy was still alive and would go looking for him.
She certainly wouldn't dare go alone; she'd have to find people connected to Matty, including her sister Ali. She'd probably use psychological tactics to convince them to go find Clements with her. From there, everything would lead to the creature being lured out to devour them. And that would be the perfect chance for her and Bon Bon to confront it again.
And this time, they wouldn't let it go.
_____
Ali’s stomach twisted with hunger, a hollow, gnawing ache that made it harder to keep her expression steady. Still, she forced a polite smile and nodded along as her friends talked around her.
It was mostly Elaine and Rhonda, their voices overlapping in a steady stream of gossip. Patricia cut in now and then, her tone sharp and authoritative as always, steering the conversation whenever she pleased. Ali added the occasional word—just enough to seem engaged—even when she barely understood or cared about what they were saying.
This was their routine: lingering in the hallway before class, talking about boys, picking apart other people’s lives. Ali had long suspected the real reason they waited here, though. Patricia liked an audience, and she was waiting for Lily Bainbridge and Marge Truman to arrive.
Marge always tried so hard to belong. Too hard. She hovered between loyalty and ambition, sticking close to Lily while quietly chasing Patricia’s approval. Compliments, small laughs at the right moments, careful glances to gauge reactions—Marge played the role well, even if it was obvious. Patricia saw it too. Of course she did. And she used it, nudging Marge into awkward positions, letting her believe she was favored while turning her into a convenient tool to provoke Lily—or anyone else.
Ali understood all of this, even if she never said it out loud.
Marge was technically part of the Pattycakes, like her, but she often drifted away to be with Lily. And Lily… Lily used to be one of them, before everything changed. Before her mother took her to Jupiter Hill—the only mental hospital in Derry. When she came back, the rumors followed her like a shadow. People whispered. Laughed. Gave her a name she never asked for.
Loony Lily.
Ali never believed it.
She had sat near Lily in class more than once, had listened to her speak, watched the way she carried herself. There was nothing wrong with her. Nothing that deserved the way people treated her.
But belief didn’t matter. Survival did.
So Ali smiled when the others mocked Lily. She nodded when they tore people apart with careless words. She played along, because being part of the Pattycakes meant safety. It meant not being alone.
And it meant not being a target.
Though one thing still puzzled her—no one ever said a word about her younger sister.
Not even Patricia.
It wasn’t out of kindness.
Everyone remembered what happened the first week they arrived.
Someone had tried to tease her sister while she was at her locker—something small, stupid, the kind of thing people did all the time. Ali hadn’t even paid much attention at first. It was normal.
What wasn’t normal was how it ended.
There had been no shouting, no warning. Just a sudden, quiet shift. Then her sister reached out, grabbed the boy by the head, and slammed his face into the locker door with a force that echoed down the hallway. Once. Enough.
And then she simply walked away.
Calm. Unbothered. As if nothing had happened.
The boy collapsed where he stood.
After that, everything changed.
The school called their mother in—but not in the way anyone expected. Not as the parent of the one who caused it, but as the parent of the one who had been “provoked.” The boy’s parents apologized. He apologized too, voice shaking, guided by their hands pressing him down. Meanwhile, her sister sat nearby, quietly eating candy the principal had given her, being asked if she was alright.
No one forgot that.
Rumors spread quickly. They twisted, grew teeth, took on a life of their own. And soon, no one dared to go near her sister—not unless they were very sure of themselves.
So instead, they went after Ali.
They had figured something out. Something useful.
Her sister loved her—of that, Ali had no doubt. But she didn’t protect her the way people expected. She didn’t step in at the first insult or shove. She watched.
Always watching.
Ali remembered it too clearly: the times she had been cornered, pushed, mocked, and her sister had been there, standing off to the side. Quiet. Observing. Sometimes murmuring to that rabbit puppet of hers in a soft, playful tone that didn’t match the situation at all.
It made the bullies bolder.
Only when things went too far—when the line shifted from cruel to dangerous—did she act. And when she did, it ended quickly.
But afterward… that look.
Her sister would glance at her with something distant, something coldly assessing. It wasn’t anger. Not quite.
Disappointment.
The same look their mother sometimes gave her.
As if Ali had failed something she didn’t understand.
As if all of it—the bullying, the waiting, the silence—had been a test.
And she kept failing.
That thought lingered longer than any bruise ever had.
Which was why, despite everything, Ali clung to the Pattycakes. With them, she was safe. Shielded. Untouchable.
Safe from the bullies.
Safe from being tested.
Her stomach growled again, sharper this time, pulling her back to the present. Elaine was still talking—something about a boy she’d been following, her voice bright with excitement.
Ali barely listened.
She hadn’t eaten this morning. Not properly. And it was because of her sister again. Just because Astra wasn’t hungry didn’t mean Ali wasn’t. The unfairness of it sat heavy in her chest, mixing with the ache in her stomach.
“Ali? What do you think?” Elaine asked suddenly.
Ali blinked, forcing herself to focus. “Yeah… I think you should go for it,” she said automatically, the words slipping out without thought.
And then she saw them.
Lily and Marge were approaching from the far end of the hallway, deep in conversation. Lily looked tense—more than usual—her shoulders tight, her gaze distant.
Ali watched as they drew closer.
Then she heard it.
“…Matty Clements talking to you through the pipes?”
The name hit her like a sudden chill.
“Just forget it,” Lily murmured, her voice low, strained.
Something was wrong.
Marge pressed on, asking more questions, but Lily didn’t respond. By the time they reached the group, Marge had already switched masks—smoothing her hair, adjusting her clothes, putting on that eager, flattering smile.
“Hi, Patty,” she said lightly.
“Hi, Margie,” Patricia replied, her smile just as polished—and just as hollow.
It was enough. Marge didn’t mention what she had just heard. Of course she didn’t.
“Just a second,” Marge said quickly, grabbing Lily’s arm and pulling her toward the girls’ restroom.
Ali watched them go, only half-interested—until something else caught her eye.
A familiar figure in the distance.
Her sister.
Astra moved quietly, almost lazily, as if she had nowhere important to be. But her gaze was fixed—sharp, unwavering—on Lily. Without hesitation, she followed them into the restroom.
Ali’s irritation flared instantly, hot and sharp.
Of course.
Because of her, Ali hadn’t even had time to eat. And now she was… what? Following Lily?
Something about it felt off.
Wrong.
Her stomach growled again, louder this time. She pressed a hand against it, glancing around to make sure no one noticed.
She needed food.
Now.
Whatever was happening in that restroom—whatever strange tension was building—it could wait.
Her hunger couldn’t.
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