Chapter 40: In the Dark
M A D D O X
My fault.
My fault.
Everything's my fault.
The words echo in my head, like the drip drip drip of a leaky faucet. Impossible to ignore. Impossible to turn off.
Why am I such a weakling? I've handled everything wrong. Everything. And now Ellie might be in danger—all because I lacked the intestinal fortitude to own up to my mistakes.
For some reason, I can hear Eleanor's tinkly laughter in my head, calling me the nickname she bestowed on me from childhood. Moxie. I finally get the joke. If there's anything in this world that I have less of, it's moxie.
I should have told Dr. Carlyle the truth—and I should have told Reese too. It was my fault Eleanor fell. I finally stood up to her, refused to play her games, and she came to The Overlook to confront me.
But no.
I didn't say any of that when I sat in Dr. C's office. I played dumb. I lied my ass off, too scared of the consequences if I told the truth. Now Reese blames Ellie, and she isn't playing games. If the look on her brother's face was any indication, Reese is out for blood... and Ellie has no idea of the approaching danger.
Another girl I've led to the brink of disaster, completely in the dark.
No.
No no no.
I can't let it end the same way twice. I have to find Ellie. Or Reese. Before they find each other.
"I'll help you search," I offered Emerson just now, bounding in his wake when he turned to leave my doorway. I'm not supposed to wander from my room, but that's the least of my transgressions at this point. Emerson took me up on my offer with a curt nod, and we set off down Winthrop's network of gravel paths in opposite directions, scouring campus for any trace of the girls.
So far, nothing.
I pick up my pace and don my own visor as I go, hoping it might alert to the presence of nearby users.
There are one or more InstaLove user(s) nearby. Interact to raise your score!
"Please be Ellie," I murmur under my breath. I turn the corner, and can't help but wince as the avatar appears.
Samantha
An interaction prompt pops up, but I ignore it. I whip off my visor and rub my eyes.
"Hey!" Sam says. "Have you seen my girlfriend?"
I shake my head. "She isn't in your room?"
"No, she never came back after her interview."
I frown, my impatience growing with every second that slips by. There are only two avatars I'm interested in locating at the moment, and Miranda isn't on the list.
"I'm just worried," Samantha goes on, biting her lip. "She seemed really quiet earlier..."
I'm sure Miranda's fine, but I scrunch my forehead, trying to recall the details of my conversation with Emerson.
Some girl named... Something with an M... Some girl lurking around outside...
"She's out here somewhere," I tell Samantha. "Emerson bumped into her before."
"Emerson Kemp? He's here?"
I nod vaguely and move to step past her, but I pull up short before I've gone three paces. I stop and turn around.
"Actually," I say slowly. "Do you want to help? As long as you're out here searching for people..."
Samantha's eyes narrow. "Why? Who are you searching for?"
"Reese," I explain. "Or Ellie. Before they find each other—"
"Oh!" she cuts me off. "I just saw Reese."
Something catches in my throat. I gulp to clear it. "You did? Where?"
"Fenmore! I just passed her. She was heading up the stairs."
***
E L L I E
The knock sounds again as my eyes fly around my room. I don't feel safe confronting Maddox. Here. In my room. Alone. No witnesses. Not when he knows how to hack the surveillance cameras.
There's not enough furniture in this room to hide. Should I try the closet? Or maybe take the fire escape?
I head to the window and yank at the sash, but it's jammed. The white paint chips away beneath my fingernails as I tug in vain.
"Going somewhere?"
A voice speaks behind me from the open doorway. I whirl around, clapping my hand to my chest to calm my labored breathing.
Not Maddox. Thank God.
It's Reese.
"Hey!" I'm panting slightly and I lean against my desk, removing my visor gently so as not to clear the message exchange I was viewing. "You should see this. I figured out—"
I break off in mid-sentence. Something in Reese's face makes the goosebumps rise on my arms. She removes her visor as well, and there's a look in her eyes that makes my heart thump louder—a look that says she's not interested in anything I have to say.
She comes toward me and I back away, but there's nowhere for me to go. She has me cornered.
"Wait!" I hold both hands in front of me, palms out, to stop her progress. My only way out of this mess is to show her the proof of my innocence. The proof I just had before my eyes. "Listen to me. I know who reset the distance parameter! I have the proof right here."
The visor dangles from its cord around my neck. I pull it off and hold it out to her. For a moment, Reese and I lock eyes—or I lock eyes with her, in any case. Her gaze seems to pass straight through me, glassy and unfocused.
I hold my breath, unsure whether my words penetrate that terrifying blankness on her face.
"Reese." I take a tentative step toward her, holding the visor before me like a shield. "Please. Look at this. You'll see."
Something seems to shift inside her head. She blinks at the visor, and then her eyes narrow.
"It's Eleanor's," I tell her quickly, seeing her hesitate. "She switched with me!"
"What?" Reese shakes her head, blue hair scattering about her shoulders. The pin-straight strands that she normally keeps so sleek and perfect, now messy and uncombed. She glares at me down the bridge of her nose. "That's not true. She would've told me."
No, Reese. She didn't tell you everything. I lower my eyes to the floor and address my words to her feet. "She didn't tell you about Stanford."
There's a long silence. My eyes dart to Reese's face again. She hunches forward slightly, like I just sucker punched her in the stomach. I reach to touch her arm, but she jerks away. "You have no idea what you're talking about."
That much is true. I'm an outsider here at Winthrop. I barely understand half the things the other students here say to one another—but none of that matters now. All I know is that I need Reese to stop flinging false accusations of in my direction.
"Just look at this," I insist, holding the visor out to her again. "Capital L. That was Eleanor's username, right? Her messages are in gray."
Reese scowls at me darkly, but she takes the visor from my hands and slips it on.
I hear her gasp, and my shoulders slump with relief. I know what she's reading: The part of the message exchange that I was just looking at before she knocked on my door.
"Do you see the messages?" I ask Reese breathlessly, waiting for her to react. "The distance parameter! Do you see that part?"
Reese takes off the visor, but she doesn't look at me. Her eyes shift over my shoulder toward the dorm room door. I'm not sure she even realizes I'm still standing here.
"M," she murmurs. "It was M."
Her whole body quivers like a tightly wound spring. There's a violence in her eyes that frightens me.
"Reese," I step toward her gingerly, careful to keep my tone level. "We should show this to Dr. Carlyle. He'll know what to do." I reach to take the visor back, but she snatches it away. Before I can say another word, she steps around me and takes off, heading for the stairs.
"Wait!" I chase after her. "Where are you going?"
Reese answers me over her shoulder, holding up the visor in the air, but she shows no sign of slowing down. "I'll take it from here."
I clatter after her, blinking against the sudden glare of the sun as we head outside. She's sprinting on ahead of me, turning at the first fork in the gravel paths.
"Stop!" I run after her. "The director's residence is the other way!"
But she doesn't stop. She isn't heading to Dr. Carlyle's office. She's heading past Grier, toward the western edge of campus.
I know what lies that way. A locked gate. A rough-hewn staircase made of rock. A trailhead. A cliff.
Every instinct inside of me screams not to go that way again. But I follow her. I have no choice. She has the visor—the only proof of my own innocence. I don't dare let it out of my sight.
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