That’s today, isn’t it?
A girl hopped into her field of vision. Kat had the instant impulse to turn around, but she concealed her inner distaste with a quick rub of her forehead. “I’m fine.”
Whitney Navarro. In everyone else’s eyes, Whitney was Kat’s best friend, but Kat never saw Whitney that way, and she was positive Whitney didn’t see herself that way either. The two had gone to school together since fourth grade, and although they’d tried to make plans together in their last year of middle school, Whitney had always flaked. She hadn’t shown a real interest in Kat’s life until their last semester before freshman year, when Kat had finally switched up her style. Sure, maybe she was overthinking it, but the idea that Whitney liked the role she played in Kat’s tragic story more than Kat herself always lingered in the back of her mind.
“Is this about…”
Kat shook her head as Whitney trailed off, a smile growing on her lips. Of course Whitney thought it was about that. Gosh, it would have been so nice to dump Whitney and find some new friends. Unfortunately she didn’t have anyone else to run to. No backup. No alternative option. For the past two years Kat’s entire social life had been hanging by a string—that string being Whitney Navarro.
“Can you take your seizures somewhere else?” Aaron approached them with a basketball cradled in his arms. “We’re trying to play a game here.”
“That’s incredibly offensive.” Whitney turned to him, her auburn locks jumping gently on her shoulders. “And Kat’s having a bad day.”
“Well, Kat’s always having a bad day.” Aaron dribbled the ball as he stepped deeper into the court, blowing a kiss with his free hand in Kat’s direction. “Still love you though.”
Kat gave him a fake smirk as she stepped behind the court lines, nothing moving but her glossy lips. As she backed up—her boots clicking against the gym floor—she finally took notice of the eyes in her direction. Did these people really have no better way to spend their time than observing her pathetic life from a distance?
Kat’s fake smile washed away as the half-court games picked up speed again. Questionable migraine or not, coming here every day during lunch was starting to get really boring. Supposedly Whitney only liked to hang out in the gym to watch the cute guys play basketball, and by cute guys she really meant Jay Mendoza.
“Hurry.” Whitney grabbed Kat’s wrist and dragged her to the wall a few feet away. “Jay’s coming.”
Kat followed Whitney’s shimmering eyes to find Jay walking over from a court on the opposite side of the gym. He’d changed into basketball shorts at the start of lunch but was still wearing the same t-shirt and checkered flannel from earlier. A strange combo, but charming in its own way.
Whitney fluttered her eyelashes only inches away from Kat’s face. “Is my mascara flakey?”
Kat shoved her away. “Back off, you creep.”
“You’re no fun.” Whitney pouted and leaned against the wall.
Jay high-fived a few of the other guys on the way over, and Kat scoffed. Jay was just as popular and mysterious as she was, but the only difference was that he genuinely didn’t realize he’d befriended ninety percent of the school’s population. He was always focused on who didn’t like him, trying to fix his relationships with the drive equivalent to a drugged cult leader.
“You realize Jay’s a jerk, right?” Kat plopped her backpack onto the floor and leaned against the royal blue wall mats.
“Name one guy who isn’t.” Whitney grinned at her peach-painted nails. They were a different color than yesterday—and they weren’t even chipped yesterday. This girl was overkill. “It comes down to percentages, and I’d say Jay is only about twenty percent jerk.”
Jay waved in their direction, and Whitney waved back. She looked like the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, and not in a cute way.
Jay stopped a few feet in front of them and fumbled with his hands. First he crossed them, then held them behind his back like he was posing next to his friends for one of those cliché pre-prom Instagram photos. Kat raised her brows as Jay settled with dangling his arms awkwardly by his sides.
“I’m sorry about Aaron. He can be insensitive sometimes.” Jay glanced over his shoulder and held his gaze on the nearby game as though that might somehow decrease the tension in the air. If anything, it only made it worse. “Are you doing okay, by the way?”
It took Kat a moment to process that Jay was speaking to her and not Whitney. Right, the fall. She’d nearly succeeded in blocking the event from her short-term memory. The last thing she wanted to think about during lunch break was the heartless Peter Moon. She didn’t even know the guy. Maybe once a week she’d hear people rant about his latest blog entry as she walked through the hall, and sometimes after school she’d see him at Halos, the restaurant she worked at, but other than those rare instances, Peter would never cross her mind.
When she dropped to her knees earlier, she’d seen a peek into Peter’s life. It was vivid, like a picture in her mind. She knew exactly what his uncle looked like, but she was confident she had never seen the man before. It did make her curious, though. The Peter in that memory wasn’t at all how she’d imagined him while reading his Moral Moon entries. The boy he’d been exactly two years ago on his fifteenth birthday was much more energetic. Charismatic. Now why would a perfectly normal freshman with nothing to hate but his parents’ YouTube channel suddenly show up sophomore year with a blog to hate on people he hardly knew?
“You’re not gonna say hi to me?”
Whitney’s raspy voice knocked a smile onto Kat’s face. There it was—Whitney’s insufferable personality. Her need to confront people was perhaps the only thing Kat liked about the girl. She had a talent for stirring up unnecessary drama to get her way, and whenever Kat found her life looping the same song—no matter how catchy it was—she thrived with having a girl like Whitney around to shuffle the playlist.
Jay’s lips twitched a few times, struggling to spit out whatever words were on his mind. “It’s not that, it’s just—”
“I’m tired of your bullshit excuses, Jay.” Whitney stormed past him and disappeared through the front door of the gym. A few boys oohed from the courts, and the color drained from Jay’s face.
Kat knew Whitney wasn’t actually mad. Her act was nothing more than a method to manipulate Jay into chasing her down, texting her sorry, or at least spending more time than usual thinking about her. Classic Whitney move.
Kat plucked her backpack from the ground and tossed a strap around one shoulder. “Well, that was fun.” The Big Hero 6 keychains dangling from each zipper clinked against each other, drawing Jay’s attention. “Why don’t you go tell her she’s pretty and give her a hug or something?” Kat offered Jay an encouraging pat on the shoulder before walking toward the propped-open back door to the gym.
Footsteps echoed behind her, and Kat’s neck went tense.
“I really don’t wanna pry,” Jay said, “but you’re still curious, aren’t you?”
“If you don’t wanna pry, then don’t ask. And no. I’m over it.” Kat emerged into the afternoon air, meeting the school track in front of her and the parking lot to her right. She had a free sixth period and her shift at work didn’t start until 2:00, so she had about forty-five minutes to kill.
“Are you sure?” Jay’s smooth voice was right behind her now. “Those keychains on your backpack tell me otherwise.”
Kat made a sharp right. Literally anywhere was better than here. She squinted and held a hand up to her forehead. The light reflecting off the windshields was strong enough to blind her after standing in the due-to-replace gym lights for so long.
Jay’s voice grew louder, but his soothing tone hadn’t been compromised. “Can you at least tell me why you fell earlier?”
“None of your business.” Kat squeezed between two cars and swerved around the next one, trying to lose him.
“Kat.”
“Is this a game or something?” She spun around, Jay hardly stopping in time to avoid running into her. “You’re just gonna keep following me until I say exactly what you wanna hear?”
Jay turned to the side, resting his hands on the roof of an old Nissan. “I don’t like bothering you, but I’m worried.” A smile broke through his lips, which felt wildly out of place.
Kat crossed her arms. “What?”
“It’s nothing.”
Wow. So you expect answers from me, but you won’t reciprocate?
Jay must have sensed her annoyance, because he sighed and turned his chin to face her. “I heard something about you disappearing?”
Kat nodded, encouraging him to explain.
“I’m sorry. It’s stupid, isn’t it?” He reverted his focus to the car as he rubbed the dust off the roof in patterns with his thumb. “I didn’t think much of it at first, but when you fell earlier I thought there might be something going on. I was just concerned that—”
“Stop acting like you’re my brother, because you’re not.”
“I know.”
“That was two and a half years ago. Get over it.”
“I know!” Jay pushed himself away from the Nissan, nearly shocking Kat into losing her grip on the one strap of her backpack she clung to. “But can you honestly tell me that you’re over it?”
Kat gulped at his narrowed eyes and tense jaw. She’d never seen Jay so worked up before.
“I was in eighth grade,” Kat said. “It’s time to move on.”
“So? I was a sophomore and I’m still not ready to let it go.” The stiffness in his jaw faded away, and his voice lowered to its normal volume. “We can figure this out. I’m sure of it.”
“But the world doesn’t owe us answers, Jay.”
Here they were, two students from Brookwood High held together by the past alone. Jay did that stupid thing where he twirled with the edges of his flannel, and as Kat watched his fidgeting hands, her oversized glasses slipped down her nose.
“I’m planning to go back.” Jay tucked his restless hands into his pockets. “See if there’s any more clues.”
Kat pressed her glasses over the bridge of her nose to keep them from falling.
“You can come if you want. It’ll be like old times.”
A knot formed in Kat’s throat as she released her glasses. No way. Why am I even considering it? She offered Jay a quick smile—a genuine one—before sliding her second arm through the dangling strap of her backpack and turning around. She held her breath as she navigated through the packed parking lot, and with her focus glued to the sidewalk in the distance, she reminded herself that she’d never find answers. Jay’s blind optimism couldn’t fight the fact that they’d already slammed into a dead end.
19:15:54
STRANDS OF HAIR glued themselves to Jackie’s sweaty forehead as she ran down the outdoor hallway, her feet burning from the impact of her pounding steps. She’d abandoned Peter in Room 43, leaving as soon as she’d found herself standing inside a circle of students, the capsule in her outstretched hands no longer there.
What she’d experienced in book club hadn’t been normal. She’d zoned out into a memory of the past, except it wasn’t her memory of the past. Jackie remembered Peter’s fifteenth birthday vividly. She remembered Nicholas giving Peter advice on accepting his parents’ method of storing memories, and she remembered Peter telling Nicholas to stop trying too hard for his dates. She remembered other random details too—that Peter’s parents ran a family YouTube channel called Moon Monkeys, that his little sister’s name was Grace, and that his birthday was today—April 2nd.
All of this she remembered as though the memory were her own.
Jackie headed for a field of sparkling grass past Brookwood’s art wing—the furthest building on campus. She sprinted the last few steps to the end of the cement walkway, adjusting to the soft dirt beneath her feet as she pivoted to the right and hid herself behind the brick wall.
With her chest rising and falling at a rapid speed, Jackie threw her back against the art building and slid onto the grass. First Capsule had brought her back in time, and now this? Now she was seeing memories that weren’t even hers?
The morning chill had been replaced with a raging afternoon sun that roasted Jackie’s cheeks, but she had too many thoughts on her mind to care. After catching her breath, she lowered her chin to face the empty field of grass. Not one student had bothered to enjoy their lunch out in nature, not to her surprise.
Jackie opened her iPhone to the Capsule app. LEVEL ONE now had a line running through it to mark its completion. Before tapping LEVEL TWO—which was now written in bold—a blinking arrow on the right side of the screen encouraged Jackie to swipe left, revealing a second page to the game, where a red button labeled EMERGENCY faded in with a brief description. EACH USE REDUCES THE COUNTDOWN BY THREE HOURS.
Below the emergency button was a section labeled POWER-UPS featuring only one badge, a gray circle labeled ONE. Jackie tapped the badge, triggering a pop-up.
POWER-UP ONE: BONUS MEMORY
COST: ONE HOUR
EXPERIENCE A BONUS MEMORY FROM ANOTHER MIND. THE MEMORY OF INTEREST MUST BE STATED UPON ACTIVATION. The button beneath the description read ACTIVATE.
So this really is a game.
Capsule had been structured with a goal, levels to complete, and costs to using different power-ups, but everything took place in the real world. No one could see the game but her, Peter, and potentially Kat. A human couldn’t be behind this—the power was too strong, godly even. Yet as curious as she was about how this game had appeared on her phone in the first place, she had to prioritize completing the levels. Capsule hadn’t lied yet, which meant Peter and Kat truly were endangered by the clock.
“What the hell was that about?”
Jackie nearly jumped when a shadow cast over her.
Great. She gripped her phone tighter, the sharp edges of the case threatening to penetrate the skin on her palms. It’s him.
Peter stood on the grass next to her with his arms crossed. He’d abandoned his belongings in book club to run after her, and although Jackie knew that he had questions haunting him, she didn’t have the answers either of them sought to find.
“It was like I saw something. Like—I don’t know—a vision? Or a memory, but more clear. A dream maybe? I was watching myself.” Peter stepped in front of Jackie, trying to catch her gaze. He moved his hands around in front of him as he spoke. “Did they see it too? Why did it look like they had no clue what was going on? And why did you just run off like that?”
“I don’t know, okay?” Jackie swiped back to the first page of Capsule. “I’m just as confused as you are.”
“Do you at least know why we’re the only people who saw it?”
“Probably because we’re the only people in the game.” Jackie held the screen out toward him. “Looks like whatever just happened was Level One. Four more levels and we win.”
Peter chuckled. “You think this is real? How cute.” He leaned over and snatched the phone from her grip. “No, we bring this to the police. Whoever’s behind this app is trouble.”
“Wow, what a great plan. Never thought of that one before.” Jackie stood from the grass and dusted the dirt off her palms. “I’m sure the police will believe something they can’t see.”
“They may not be able to see that weird floating thing, but they can at least see the app.” Peter lowered his arm, the sanity in his eyes fading. “Can’t they?”
Jackie held her hand out in front of her, and Peter reluctantly gave her phone back. She tapped LEVEL TWO, revealing a new pop-up with the phrase CHERRY ICE—the same name as the only ice rink in Brookwood.
The warning bell for their next period rang, marking the end of lunch. Jackie tucked her phone away. “Can you
drive?”
“If you don’t value living, sure.”
Is that supposed to be a joke?
“I don’t have my license,” he clarified.
Jackie rolled her eyes and passed him, heading for the sidewalk.
“Why do you ask?” Peter called after her.
Jackie glued her lips shut. The last thing she needed was to waste time explaining the confusing aspects of the game to Peter.
Let’s get this over with.
Peter ran after her, his footsteps loud even against the soft dirt. “Look, I already messed up my perfect attendance this morning. May as well destroy it.”
Jackie walked faster. What was that supposed to mean? Now that he’d seen some weird memory of his past, he was suddenly interested in believing her story? Less than half an hour ago he’d accused her of creating the app and having a crush on him, and now he wanted to follow her to Level Two? This guy was a complete fraud, and if she weren’t determined to prove Mrs. Mendoza wrong, she could have easily sat around and waited for the countdown to expire.
He matched her pace as he walked next to her. “So where are we going?”
“The next level’s at Cherry Ice.”
“Cherry Ice?” Peter smiled. “And you’re planning on walking there?”
Jackie reached the sidewalk at the end of the field. “What other option do I have?” She stopped and looked left and right, wondering which direction was east.
“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s like—a ten minute drive from here. Let’s get a Riderr.” Peter pulled a phone out of his pocket. It was the first time Jackie had seen him with it before. “My dad logged into his account on my phone for emergencies.”
“Don’t you have to be eighteen for that?”
Peter tapped the screen, revealing a black-and-white photo of Nicholas Moon. His uncle wore a button-up shirt, his grin vibrant enough to fool Jackie into thinking the image was colored.
“I can pass.” Peter swiped up and tapped the Riderr app on his home screen. “I’d say this counts as an emergency.”
Capsule Page 7
