Chapter 40.
Alek doesn’t know for sure that something has happened to Hannah Wagner. But she’s like everybody else remaining in the competition, which means she’s grading high on paranoia these days.
Would Hannah have decided to quit the competition and go home because of something that had happened overnight, maybe on a call to her own parents? Anything was possible.
But it seemed impossible that she’d leave without saying goodbye.
Alek enters the ballroom. It doesn’t look anything like it had the night before, having been transformed into what looks like a vast computer room, rows of tables and chairs, oversized computer screens in front of chairs with headphones draped over the backs of them.
A lot of people are already sitting down. Alek looks for red hair, not wanting her to be gone.
Not wanting her to have pushed her red button.
Alek jumps when there is a tap on her shoulder, then sees Wyatt standing next to her.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.
“Did you happen to see Hannah this morning?” Alek asks him.
“No, why?” Wyatt asks. “Is she okay? She seemed fine when I left her last night.”
Alek’s eyes keep moving. “She wasn’t in her room.”
Wyatt’s face shifts—confusion first, then fear.
Alek’s eyes finally land on Hannah’s red hair.
She’s at the far end of the room, in the last seat at one of the long tables, staring at her computer screen. Body perfectly still. Eyes locked on the screen. Hannah’s headset is already on. The mic light is glowing red.
Alek checks her watch. Still ten minutes before this morning’s tests are scheduled to begin, the board games to which The Host had alluded.
Alek and Wyatt move fast, weaving between chairs.
Alek is the one startling Hannah when she touches her shoulder.
“Sorry,” Alek says, when she sees Hannah jump. “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” Hannah says. “Just nervous, I guess. I’m not sure what to expect today. It’s why I just wanted to get here early to collect my thoughts. Sorry I didn’t wait for you.”
Hannah’s eyes flick to the corner of her screen where a small window is still open. It reads: AUDIO: LIVE. CONNECTION: OPEN. She clicks it closed.
“You sure you’re okay?” Wyatt asks.
“I’m fine,” Hannah says. “Really I am. I just need to be by myself and start getting mentally ready.”
Alek thinks: You’re always mentally ready.
“Okay then,” Wyatt says. “I’ll leave you alone.”
“Wait,” Hannah says.
She turns away from the computer and looks up at him. It’s as if Alek is no longer there.
“What happened last night can’t happen again,” Hannah whispers to Wyatt.
Wyatt blinks like he didn’t hear her right. “Why?”
Alek watches the color drain from his face.
Wyatt says, “I thought . . .”
Hannah looks around the room—at the cameras, the screens, the staff moving in the corners.
“Because it wasn’t private,” Hannah whispers. “None of it is.”
Wyatt’s mouth opens. Closes.
He looks . . . honestly hurt.
“I thought—” he starts.
Hannah shakes her head once. “Not now.
“It’s not about you,” she adds, and it sounds like she hates that sentence because it’s the kind people say when they’re lying.
But she’s not lying.
She’s scared.
Wyatt tries to hide the hurt Alek can see he’s clearly feeling, along with the surprise.
“Okay,” he says, and walks away. “Okay.”
Alek watches him go, feeling the damage in the air.
Hannah doesn’t look at Alek.
She stares at the screen.
“I want to win,” Hannah says when Wyatt is out of earshot.
“We all do,” Alek says.
“I’m just trying to do it the right way,” she says.
“Hannah,” Alek says, “we’re all trying to do that, too.”
Hannah looks down the row to where Wyatt is standing. He looks away when he sees Hannah staring at him.
“Hannah,” Alek says. “Talk to me.”
Hannah’s eyes stay on the monitor.
“I can’t,” she whispers. Then Hannah, shifting her stare to Wyatt, says, “I just can’t.”
And goes back to staring at her screen.
Alek watches Hannah’s eyes track the cameras, the screens, the staff.
Not nervous. Measuring.
Patrick Arrasmith