A week ago, it wouldn’t have bothered me to lie to her. Dishonesty is supposed to be bad, but lies are the only protection I’ve ever had. Only now that I know Alex sees the same things I do around here, my lie feeds on me. It’s a betrayal now, and I hate it.
But look how well you’re handling it. It’s Norcut’s voice in my head, like she dug a hole inside me and her words grew in the dark. It’s true though. I’m not shaking. My voice doesn’t break. I sound . . . fine. Even my stomach is unclenching.
“Interesting that they found another,” Alex adds, leaning her head against the doorjamb. “I hadn’t heard about him.”
“Do you always know if there’s a new person coming in?”
“Pretty much. Kent has to be prepared. You can’t spring stuff on him or he gets hostile.”
I laugh. “This is Kent on good behavior?”
“I know, right?” Alex retreats to her bed and gathers up all her homework, all her notes. She looks so young right now, closer to twelve than twenty. “Kent’s some sort of a code whisperer genius. He’s an utter asshole, but he does good work. And the work is what matters around here.”
She sounds so final I don’t bother pressing it any further. I take a T-shirt and shorts from my dresser, moving mechanically through my evening routine. I shouldn’t push her. I shouldn’t—“So, if that’s a new guy, we’ll meet him tomorrow, right?”
“Right.”
Wrong. I spend the next three days doing schoolwork in the morning and puzzling through viruses in the afternoon. The bloated one keeps coming back. Every time I delete it, it returns. There are three versions waiting for me now, which is mildly interesting. Does it take over the host by flooding the server with so many requests it overloads them?
I run another check and wait for Milo, who never shows. I try not to look for him, but my eyes keep straying to the glass doors and the hallway beyond them. He should be walking in any moment now, right?
So why isn’t he? What does that mean?
And where are they keeping him? Alex said we only have two floors, but the top floor is all work spaces and the bottom floor is bedrooms and common areas. You would hear him. Well, maybe not hear him, but you would see him.
Wouldn’t you?
Kent rolls his chair into my line of vision. “Do I need to give you more work?”
My cheeks go nuclear, but I open my eyes very, very wide. “Why? Do you need help with yours?”
Someone behind me sniggers. I think it’s Jake.
Kent scowls. “Get back to work, Tate.”
I face my computer and rub my eyes until colors explode behind the lids. I need to concentrate and yet all my Milo questions are stuck on repeat.
I kick away from the desk and head for the bathrooms, ignoring Kent’s grumbles as I pass. The hallway is drenched in late-afternoon light. The setting sun slants shadows across the opposite building and I’m almost to the bathroom door when I realize I can see into that office space again.
The Laser Microphone guy—the same one Alex and I saw in the opposite building a few days ago—is back.
I lean one shoulder against the door and pretend to admire the wedge of sunset I can see between the buildings. I count windows to double-check myself, and yeah, that’s definitely the office I noticed on the night I arrived.
And that’s definitely the same guy.
This time though he just seems to be watching—staring really. I know he can’t see me, but as I turn for the bathroom his head tilts and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s studying me.
It’s after dinner and after therapy and after probably everyone else has gone to bed and I can’t sleep because I can feel my hair growing.
Six cups of coffee can do that to you.
“I can’t lie here anymore.” I sit up, shoving my blankets to the foot of the bed. “Am I allowed to go to work?”
“Don’t you listen to anything?” Alex’s voice is muffled by her comforter. I think she’s trying for pissy, but it makes me want to laugh. And then annoy her even more. “It’s not a prison. Do whatever you want, but do not bother me.”
At the very end of Alex’s bed, something twitches under the blankets. A foot. I ease forward, grab the edge of her comforter, and yank, sending the blanket flying. Alex shoots upright, but I’m already running for the door.
“You are so going to pay for that, Tate!”
A pillow hits the wall next to my head as I bolt into the hallway and run for the elevators. The guys are playing video games in the common room, and thankfully, none of them notices as I pass. One floor above, the workroom is quiet except for the low murmur of the air-conditioning, and I don’t bother with the overhead lights before returning to my station. I power on my computer and drop into the chair, studying the illuminated buildings around us as it cycles through the system start-up.
I could get used to working like this: the darkness, the quiet. It’s like being the last person in the world . . . until a shadow separates from the dark.
I turn, face it.
“I missed you.”