The Creeping by Alexandra Sirowy

were trying to tell them it was Jeanie’s dad and they didn’t get it?”
    â€œNo, Zo,” I explain. “I repeated myself two hundred and fifty-five times. There was no mistaking what I said.”
    â€œYou’re killing me with suspense,” Zoey says, distracted. I can tell she’s probably giving herself a pedi by how disinterested she sounds. “Drumroll . . . what were you saying?”
    I take another deep breath and swallow. “I was saying, ‘If you hunt for monsters, you’ll find them.’ ”
    A loud clatter on the other end of the call. Plastic against tile. Zoey curses and then fumbles with the phone. She shouts, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, right? What the hell, Stella? If this is a joke, you’re a real twisted psycho-slut and you just made me smear nail polish all over my new jeans.”
    â€œThis isn’t the kind of thing I’d joke about. Two hundred and fifty-five times , Zo. Shane counted.”
    â€œOMIGOD . . . I mean, what does that mean? Why was six-year-old you talking about monsters?” She sounds so concerned that for a moment I let myself believe she’ll only be supportive and that it won’t matter that I kept it from her. “Wait a tampon’s bloody second.How long have you known? I mean, you don’t remember anything from that day, so how do you know what you said?”
    I close my eyes. “I asked Shane to let me see the case file last September. I don’t know why or what I was looking for. My dad was never going to tell me . . . .”
    A long pause. “So you’ve known for nine months and you didn’t tell me ?” her voice is quiet, laced with venom.
    â€œI didn’t tell anyone,” I rush to explain.
    â€œAnyone? What the hell, Stella? I’m your best friend. I’m not just anyone. We’re supposed to tell each other everything, and instead you’re keeping something this juicy from me for nine effing months? I told you when I went down on Patrick Hoser. Stinky effing Patrick Hoser! I tell you my most mortifying secrets.”
    But all I hear is Zoey calling my deepest, darkest secret “juicy.” Of course she would see this detail as tantalizing. Of course she’d be livid with me. How could I have been such a fool as to think she wouldn’t be? “It just kind of freaked me out, and I didn’t know what I thought about it. It blindsided me. How could I tell you? You would have made up your mind about what it meant instantly. You would have told me how to feel about it. Maybe I just wanted to figure things out on my own for once?” Tears pour down my face. Is that really why I didn’t tell her? It rings partially true, but not completely.
    â€œPlease, Zo, don’t be mad. I’m telling you now and I need your help. I’m desperate for your help.” I hiccup out the last word.
    I imagine Zoey sitting rigid on her bathroom floor, seething at the betrayal. “Yeah, whatevs. My mom’s calling me for dinner, so I’ve got to go.”Before I can beg her to stay on the line, she’s gone. Only silence left.
    I stare moon-eyed at my phone. Zoey has never hung up on me before. Shouted, berated, cussed, screamed, pulled my hair, and even thrown food at me, sure. But never once has she just fallen silent and refused to fight. Is it really so unforgivable that I kept something that scary to myself? Can’t she fathom that I might have been frightened to tell her? That I might have been worried what she’d think?
    â€œShit,” I hiss, glaring at the ratty and worn stuffed bunny that rests on my pillow. Now who’s going to help me remember Jeanie? Obviously Daniel could, but do I want to be alone with him? I doubt he’d be willing anyway. He’s so freaking certain that I know more than I’m letting on. I mentally run through the list of those close