Chapter 14
EMMA
His lock screen is the basic default background: a stagnant and lackluster blue streak. Apparently, there’s nothing important enough in his life to keep front and center. Not even a random sunset from his last family vacation. Just an ugly blue stripe across his screen.
He really has changed.
There’s a six-digit passcode but nine numbers stare back at me.
What would his password be now? I know what it used to be years ago.
It was simple and silly. Just four sevens in a row because it was his favorite number.
I guess back then it didn’t matter if someone figured it out since he didn’t have anything to hide.
I try a bunch of sevens even though I know it won’t work, and it immediately buzzes, indicating it was the incorrect password.
Three small words appear at the top of the screen.
Three attempts left.
I shouldn’t have wasted a whole guess on a password I knew would be wrong. What else could it be? It’s not like he was ever very sentimental, so I don’t think he’d pick a date that reminds him of someone or something. Again, he has a default lock screen now, for heaven’s sake.
I chew on my lip, thinking about what other six numbers he’d use. I try his birth date.
Wrong.
Two attempts left.
I didn’t think this through. I should’ve waited until I saw him put in his password before stealing his phone.
It wouldn’t have been that hard since he’s like every other teenager who picks up their phone at every notification.
All I had to do was think ahead and be patient, but I’ve never been good at that.
I scratch my head. What does Myles like other than baseball? Is there some special baseball-related date he’d use as a password? Or maybe something to do with innings or home runs?
“Where did Myles go?” Ms. Simon asks, stepping into the room.
I jump, tucking the phone into my pocket because I don’t want her to call me out for not cleaning. “He went to the bathroom.”
She sits down at her desk. “I see. Well, the room already looks a lot better.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, hovering around the cleaning supplies when all I want to do is look at his phone again. “Actually, I could use the bathroom too.”
Ms. Simon checks the time on the clock and nods. “Try to hurry back. The lunch period is almost over.”
I jog out of the room, my eyes set on the bathroom around the corner. I keep my hand over the pocket where it bulges from the cellphone, patting it as I walk.
Movement in the corner of my eye pulls my attention to the room across the hall.
My steps slow when I see him.
Myles is in Mrs. Humphrey’s classroom by her desk. He’s doing something with the printer that’s tucked into the corner.
I come closer but stay off to the side, hiding out of view.
What is he doing? And why now?
He gazes over his shoulder more than once and then takes the freshly printed paper, folding it. He stuffs it into his pocket and raises the top of the printer, revealing the scanner for the copier. He takes the paper and puts it back in the binder on the desk.
He’s definitely not supposed to be in there, and he’s definitely not supposed to be making a copy of whatever belongs in that binder.
Myles, once again, is up to no good.
He puts the binder in the file cabinet next to the desk and pushes it closed.
The second he turns I jump away from the door and make an attempt to book it to the bathroom. I still need to look at Mallory’s messages.
“Where is it?” he says, catching me by the back of my blazer.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He spins me around.
“Yes, you do.” His face is red like he just ran a marathon. Whatever he was doing in Mrs. Humphrey’s room has him stressed. “Where’s my phone?”
I cross my arms, determined not to let him take it before I get a chance to use my last two guesses. “Why were you in Mrs. Humphrey’s room?”
There’s a flash of worry on his face like he’s been caught red-handed, but it transforms into a glare. “Didn’t I tell you to stop following me around?”
“Since when do I listen to you?”
There’s a beat of silence as his eye twitches, studying me. I swear there’s a glint of pain. “That’s right. You never did.”
We aren’t touching, but he just stabbed me in the chest. Even though I hate him, I hate myself for not listening to him the night I drove that car.
Is this all because of me? Did I ruin him and create this monster?
He holds out his hand. “Give it back.”
I step closer to the bathroom, hand falling over my pocket. “I don’t have it.”
His eyes drop to my hand. “Fine. Be that way,” he says, lunging toward me.
I shriek as he wraps one arm around me and reaches for the phone.
I try to wrestle out of his grip while keeping my pocket away from him, but he’s a lot stronger than he used to be. He’s like a solid wall, and I can’t stop him.
“Hey!” I yell when he reaches into my pocket. “You can’t do that!”
He lets go the second the phone is in his grasp.
“Give it back,” I say, reaching for it like a wild monkey trying to get the last banana on a tree.
He shields himself by holding his hand out to block me as he stuffs it into the pocket of his pants.
I should’ve hidden in the bathroom instead of letting my curiosity get the best of me. I blew my chance of seeing what Mallory messaged him, and I know he’s going to guard his phone with his life. I won’t get another opportunity to take it.
“Just tell me what you’re doing with Mallory,” I say, stomping my foot.
“Leave me alone,” he says, pushing me back as his voice cracks. I don’t know if it’s from the stress of what he just did or if it’s because of me.
But there’s something about the strain in his voice that makes me stop. My arms drop, cold at my side.
He backs up, frazzled with tired eyes. “You spent the last few years pretending I don’t exist, so just give me a break and ignore me again.”
A chill runs down my back as I stare at the boy who used to be my best friend. For a second he isn’t the boy who’s going to kill Mallory. He’s the boy I hurt. He’s the boy who held his dying dog in his arms, crying into Duke’s fur.
I don’t know what to say because everything he said is true.
“Can’t you do that?” he asks with a heavy, pointed glare.
I don’t move. I can’t. I’m stuck in quicksand, sinking into the chaos of guilt and hatred. I don’t understand how I can feel sorry for someone who is capable of killing my sister, and yet he keeps stirring up those awful emotions.
I stand there, unable to reply, and he doesn’t wait for me to find words. He walks back to Ms. Simon’s room.
I find Mallory seconds after the final bell, and her jaw drops.
Despite my attempt to scrub my clothes in the bathroom, they’re still dirty and wrinkled.
The colors are faded and hardly noticeable on the navy blazer or plaid skirt, but I don’t think there’s enough bleach in the world to get the stains off my white shirt.
Not to mention my hair, which is wet from rinsing it in the bathroom sink.
Her horrified expression only intensifies as I get closer. She hides her face with her hand like doing that will make her smaller or invisible somehow, but I don’t care about embarrassing her right now.
I want to be near her.
“What did you do now?”
I grimace as I follow her eyes down my shirt. “I had art.”
“You’re wearing art,” she corrects. Her shoulders slump forward as she lifts my collar. “I just washed these yesterday. Do you think your clothes magically clean themselves? I have enough to do today and now I have to . . .” She trails off, shaking her head.
I’ve once again disappointed her without even trying. All I need to do is breathe and it sends her into cardiac arrest.
She makes her way through the crowd, heading to her locker. I follow her, waiting off to the side. I don’t want to upset her more, but I feel better when she’s in view.
“Do you need something?” she asks as she loads her backpack up with every book imaginable. It has to weigh about as much as a sack of rocks, but she doesn’t flinch when she pulls the strap over her shoulder.
“Can you drive me home? I don’t want to walk.”
“I drove you yesterday.”
I never ride with her, always opting to walk, but driving with her seems like the best way to make sure she stays out of trouble.
“Please,” I beg.
She sighs, clearly not excited about it. “I’m not going home right away.”
“Why not?”
She scowls. “Since when do you care?”
She’s not wrong. The whole time we were in high school together our lives were complete opposites.
She’d go early while I’d barely make it before the morning bell.
She was in countless clubs and after-school activities while I left as soon as school ended because there wasn’t anyone I needed to talk to.
“I just don’t want to walk alone,” I say.
Her head tilts and she studies me. “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
There it is. Despite her frustration, she cares. I might annoy the living daylights out of her, but she’d fight a war for me if I needed her to. That’s the weird thing about us. Even at our worst, I know she won’t desert me.
If our roles were reversed right now and she was the one trying to save me, she’d take care of me no questions asked.
“No, I’m okay.”
She feels my forehead with the back of her hand. “Are you sure?”
I playfully push her hand away. “I’m fine. I promise.”
She chews her lip, probably not sure if I’m lying or not, and I don’t blame her. I am acting odd, but she refuses to believe why. I know if I try to tell her about the future again, she’ll push me away, which is the exact opposite of what I want.
“Well, go wait by the front of the school. I’ll come find you in a little bit,” she says.
“I’ll come with you—”
“No,” she says a little too quickly. She closes her locker and takes a step back. “It won’t take long.”
Her gaze dips, immediately making me curious. I have a feeling there’s a reason she doesn’t want me to tag along. My stomach twists because I already have an idea of what she’s going to do. I don’t want to be right, but I’m almost certain it has something to do with Myles.
“Okay,” I say, but I don’t plan on going to the front of the school.
I wait for Mallory to get ahead enough she won’t notice me following her. She’s about fifteen feet ahead of me, and the top of her head is barely visible through the crowd.
She dips around the corner, and I quicken my pace. I peer around the corner before following her farther.
She walks down to the library. I wait a few minutes and then step inside after her. I cautiously move down the aisles until I spot her at the far back.
My heart plummets as she stands next to Myles.
I hide in the aisle in front of them, peeking over the tops of the books. I hold my breath, determined not to make a sound and give my location away.
“Do you have it?” Mallory asks.
Myles sighs, looking away. “Yeah, I have it.”
She holds out her hand. “Well, where is it?”
He rocks his jaw. “This is the only time I’ll do this for you.”
Do what? What in the world could Mallory possibly want from him? She doesn’t need anyone else’s help. She’s perfect.
Mallory’s face is cold, her eyes focused on him like a target. “We’ll see.”
“No.” Myles shakes his head. “I could get suspended for something like this if I get caught.”
“Well, would you rather me tell your coach what you did?”
My jaw falls. Is my sister blackmailing him? And what did he do? Is that why he pushed Mallory? It seems like a petty reason to hurt someone.
My mind is spinning. I want to jump out of hiding and ask a million questions, but I control myself. I bite my tongue because I have to see what happens next.
Myles reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulls out a piece of paper that looks oddly familiar. The way it’s folded solidifies in my mind that it’s the same paper I saw him copying from Mrs. Humphrey’s room.
Why does Mallory need that?
My mouth goes dry and I’m queasy.
My sister is a rule follower. She’s the girl everyone looks up to as a role model. My father can’t go an entire conversation without bragging about her to everyone he knows.
So why does she need a paper from Myles?
“You didn’t tell Emma about this, did you?” Myles asks.
I jump at the mention of my name, almost knocking over a book.
“No. Why?”
He takes a moment to reply like he’s thinking about his words carefully. “She’s been acting weird the last couple of days.”
“Tell me about it. She told me she’s from the future and you were going to kill me.”
He shakes his head. “Yeah, she’s been saying a lot of weird things.”
Mallory sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “She’s just upset. She wanted me to take her to Lancaster, and I said no.”
He tilts his head. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“Maybe she misses you,” she mumbles.
“What?”
Exactly. Why would she tell him something like that? I don’t miss him anymore. The boy I missed doesn’t exist anymore.
Mallory takes the paper and stuffs it into her bag. “Just forget it. I’m sure she’ll go back to normal soon.”
Myles touches her arm, eyes wide in confusion. “What did you mean?”
“She misses you,” she says.
He scoffs. “Do you see me right now? She did this.” He gestures to his stained clothes. “Trust me when I say she doesn’t care about me.”
Mallory zips her backpack up. “Look, I don’t want to get in the middle of this, but remember when I visited you after you got hurt last year?”
He nods.
“She made me do it.” She slings her backpack over her shoulder. “She misses you.”
Myles’s face flushes.
Mallory barely makes it a step before he stops her again. “You can’t just say that and leave.”
She pushes him off. “I have to go.”
“But—”
“If you really want to know how she feels, then talk to her, not me.”
I taste blood from biting my tongue so hard. I did miss him, but that was a lifetime ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.
Mallory walks away, and I pull a book off the shelf to hide my face. My heartbeat speeds up as she passes the aisle, hoping she doesn’t notice me.
She doesn’t, and I’m tempted to race after her, but I can’t help but notice the way Myles hasn’t moved. His jaw is locked, and he stares at his feet.
I wonder what’s going through his mind. Why did Mallory have to go and tell him something like that? Her timing couldn’t have been more wrong. The last thing I want to do is talk to Myles about the past.
I want to find out what that paper was. I want to know what she’s hiding.
Still, I can’t bring myself to look away from him.