“Holy shit,” Kat muttered under her breath. “You guys weren’t kidding.”
The capsule shook.
It trembled mid-air before jumping an inch higher, driving itself into the water, and vanishing from sight.
Jackie didn’t waste time in her jungle of thoughts. There had been far too much of that today already. Now was time for action. She ripped the shoes from her feet, sand fluttering to the ground in gentle streams.
“What are you doing?” Peter took a step away from the water as a wave approached him.
Jackie rolled her socks off, offering Peter nothing but a quick glance. What did it look like she was doing? Dancing? The only way to beat the level was to open the capsule, and they didn’t have any other options. She reached into her back pocket and grabbed her phone. “Hold this?”
Kat took the phone from Jackie’s hand with a subtle smile on her face, but her stance read that she wasn’t comfortable—shoulders tight, raised against her chin. She stepped away from the water with Jackie’s phone in her hand.
Her own life in her hand.
“I’m starting to hope this really is psychosis,” Kat said.
Jackie frowned, and Kat shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Jackie shut her eyes and inhaled the salty air, reminding herself that this was just a game. Right. Another breath. That’s all this is. A game. I’m great at games. I got this. She opened her eyes and stepped forward.
“Wait!” Peter’s voice stopped her in a panic. He normally spoke with an artificial confidence, but now his voice trembled with the wind. “What if it’s a trap?”
Jackie shook her head. “It’s not.”
Games normally increased in difficulty. The first level of Capsule had been a walk in the park, the second required a little more effort, and this one lured her into a short swim.
“The water could kill you.” Peter took a step toward Jackie, challenging her plan. “It’s freezing.”
“Well yeah, smartass.” Kat ran a hand through the hair of her ponytail. She was smiling, but her arm was tense. “Maybe if Jackie spent four days soaking in it.”
The color drained from Peter’s face. “You can’t go in there.”
Jackie raised her voice and turned around, facing him. “We need to finish the level.” How much longer did he plan to get in the way of opening the capsules? He was overthinking this and trying to control what he obviously had no control over.
“What if it’s not even there anymore?” Peter gestured to the water behind Jackie. “What if it—I don’t know—teleported or something?”
“What’s going on with you?” Kat asked.
“Nothing. I’m being logical, because apparently I’m the only one here with an ounce of common sense.”
Jackie faced the water again. Focus. She took a few solid steps forward, frowning as a hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked over her shoulder to find Peter’s colorless eyes searching hers in desperation. She’d never seen him like this before. Not in the Level One memory, not during class, not even today. Something different caught her attention this time. Was it fear?
Peter Moon, the boy who somehow managed to be condescending in every way, was afraid?
“Calm down.” Jackie pulled her arm out of his grip. “You know I have to do this.”
“No, you don’t. It’s dangerous.” Peter took a step away from her, and the wind ruffled through his brown hair. “Just trust me on this one. Please.”
“Hey jerk!” Kat’s grip tightened around Jackie’s phone. “Chill out. She’ll be fine.”
Peter inhaled a broken breath as he took a few steps back. He spoke deeper this time. “Be careful.”
Jackie wasted no time analyzing his strange behavior. She turned and immersed her bare feet into an approaching wave, gritting her teeth at the sharp sting of the icy water. April wasn’t the coldest time of the year to visit Pelle Cove, but that didn’t mean the ocean wasn’t uncomfortable to swim in. Even in the peak of summer many considered the water untouchable.
Without giving herself time to back out, Jackie took a few bold steps forward. The water trickled up to her knees.
Jackie paused in the endless pool, trying to remember the exact location of the capsule. She struggled with gauging how far away from the shoreline it was. Had the capsule submerged itself at an angle? And how deep had it gone?
She leaned forward, launching herself into an incoming wave as her feet went numb from the cold.
The ocean thrashed the hair around her face. For a moment, Jackie could hardly move, shocked by the motions—the violent current, the diminishing air in her lungs, the inescapable chill that trapped her—but she eventually remembered her mission and reached forward, swiping her arms through the water and kicking with every ounce of energy she could conjure.
Nothing.
Jackie oriented herself vertically and popped her head through the surface. Flailing her limbs to keep afloat, she took violent breaths, occasionally coughing the unwelcome droplets of salt water from her lungs. Peter and Kat stood at the shore a decent distance away, so the capsule had to be close. She propped her burning eyes open and drilled her face into the water.
The visibility was horrible, and her heart pounded when she realized that she couldn’t see the bottom of the ocean. Jackie exhaled the last of her reserved breath as her eyes landed on the aluminum figure hovering gently a few strokes away.
Jackie emerged at the surface a final time for a refill of air, but the waves crashed into her and spilled salt water into her mouth. After a few violent coughs Jackie inhaled a deep breath, slipped below the surface, and locked her eyes on the capsule. Air escaped from her lips when she kicked forward into the darkness, her tense muscles relaxing as her hands pressed against what felt like glass.
A final stream of bubbles trailed from her mouth as she twisted the third capsule open.
LEVEL THREE
THE BEDROOM WAS empty.
Not in a way where nothing remained. Of course the necessities stood plainly—a full-sized bed with a simple wooden frame, a glass of water resting on a desk below the window trim, and a few pairs of clean sneakers lined against the wall. But Peter had nothing significant to look at. No spark. No glow.
He sat at his desk with a scarlet notebook under his palm. In today’s journal entry he wrote about how in some other dimension, with some other Peter, he lived in a perfect world. A world where he’d come home to a nice house on Carnelia Drive with roses in the front yard and a playful family waiting inside to greet him. He’d place a shiny red bike on the front porch, step inside the house, and lay his shoes on the delicate rack by the door.
But even in this dimension, he did do all of those things. He even had pizza and cake on the evening of his fifteenth birthday a few months ago. A pizza he and his sister had baked themselves that turned out better than they’d expected, and a cake he blew the candles out from after his family had sung him happy birthday. He had turned fifteen in this magical world, but the world didn’t feel magical anymore.
He had everything he needed and so much to be grateful for, but the void never disappeared. He had poured everything into this pit with the hope of filling it. Stuffed the void with hours of guitar lessons, endless studying, and countless books of all genres. He had even sacrificed parts of his life that he thought might have contributed to this pit. He deleted his Instagram account. Distanced himself from friends who made poor choices—even the occasional poor choice—which was all of them.
He strived to eliminate his bad habits. It started with No Netflix and continually escalated from there. He had to cleanse his life. Rid himself of any distractions so he could fill the void with worthwhile things. But next came no video games and no staying up past ten and no junk food and pretty soon it was all spiraling out of his control. In his effort to fill the void he had only deepened it. It
grew with a force so strong it sucked the rest of his life away, and before he knew it, this void had devoured everything he loved.
And soon I found myself fighting the void, Peter wrote. He set his pen on the table, shut his journal, and stood. The glass of water on his desk quivered in his presence.
It was all part of the routine.
He opened the first drawer of his desk to reveal a collection of containers. He took them out one by one, delicately, as though the plastic might burst from too much pressure. The inner pieces rattled inside as he set them on his desk. Click. Click. Click.
Ten pill containers. He snapped the lids open in the same order he’d retrieved them in and placed a pill from each container on his desk in a straight line. For a moment he stared at the line, his eyes trailing across the pills back and forth, mesmerizing himself. But when he heard footsteps downstairs, he twisted the lids back on, nearly spilling a few bottles in the process.
“Peter?”
A woman’s voice.
As the footsteps grew louder, Peter gathered the line of pills into the palm of his hand, raised his fingers to his lips, and slid a few into his mouth. He lifted the glass of water to sip the gel capsules down his throat.
A knock on the door.
“Peter?” Mrs. Moon called.
He popped more pills into his mouth. Four this time.
The door opened. Peter tightened his fist around the remaining pills in his hand and chugged a gulp of water to clear his throat.
“She’s here.”
His hands grew sweaty around the remaining few pills, but he kept his fingers locked tightly around them. He spotted a Tesla through the window in front of his desk. Obviously this girl’s family didn’t need any charity. They could handle the news fine on their own. If he could do it, they could too.
“They’re here to help you,” Mrs. Moon said.
“Sure they are.” Peter raised the glass to his empty mouth.
“We all need this.” His mom took a step back into the hallway. “Get your act together. She’s coming upstairs.”
As soon as Mrs. Moon shut the door behind her, Peter opened his fist over his mouth, the last few capsules landing on his tongue before he drowned them with a stream of water.
He wasn’t ready for this.
Peter sat. As he stared at the bottles in front of him, he rested his chin on his palm and his elbow on the wooden desk. Now that he’d started taking the supplements, he couldn’t stop. A perfect diet and exercise regiment was impossible to maintain—there would always be something missing—but taking the supplements was the one habit he knew he was doing right. Why did the world have to work that way? Why was perfection, even in such a minute aspect of one’s life, so wildly impossible to achieve?
Light footsteps trailed upstairs. Peter gulped, his mouth now dry, but he had no water left to quench his thirst.
The door creaked open. The brat hadn’t even bothered to knock first.
Even without looking at Isabella, he could picture her face. He’d seen it far too much in all of the photos Mrs. Moon had shown him. She was only twelve years old with curly golden hair and the purest smile. Of course Nicholas had to step in and save her. How could such a sweet child be left to die?
But it didn’t make sense.
Isabella had only one thing going for her—an innocent face. Everything else was flawed. She was selfish—he could tell by the way she spoke in her letters. Everything was always about her. For all Peter knew Isabella’s mom was forcing her to write them.
Why hadn’t Nicholas seen her flaws? If he had only noticed them, maybe he could have saved himself. People always focused on the wrong things in life. They found the sun beautiful, so they flew an inch too close to it. How could Isabella deserve life when Nicholas had spent the entirety of his working to be the best man he could possibly be? He’d thrown it all away for a young girl who—in hindsight—probably helped the world a whole lot less than he had. She was a taker. She not only got what she wanted, but she got what she didn’t deserve. Right when the universe had pressed a knife against her chest, Nicholas jumped into the water. And for what? The loss of his sweet life to maintain hers?
“What are those for?”
Peter jumped at the sight of Isabella’s hand reaching across his desk to point at the perfectly-aligned supplement bottles. He could hear the smile in her voice.
Peter shut his eyes. “Pills.” He wanted to disappear.
“Are you sick?” she asked.
Peter dropped his hand, feeling the weight of his own head dragging himself down. As the girl pulled her arm away, he turned his seat to face her. He’d hoped to find something different from the photos he’d seen, but she matched her images perfectly. Isabella was the same devil he’d always envisioned.
“Your uncle was really nice.” Isabella pulled at one of her curls. “He saved me, you know.”
How many times did she have to say that? Did Isabella have to brag about her near-death experience like she was some kind of saint brought back from the dead? Did she have to take advantage of Nicholas’ story by turning it into her own?
Peter frowned. “And he’d still be here if it weren’t for you.”
Isabella’s smile fell. Something about the look on her face left Peter eager to take it back, but he was too late. Her lips were already dropping, and she lowered her head with a sniffle.
Peter opened his mouth to say something to cheer her up, but he wouldn’t let himself speak. What was he supposed to say? He hadn’t lied.
“You didn’t have to go in the water.” Peter found his lips trembling. “What kind of idiot goes into the water when they can’t swim?”
“I thought it was shallow.” The girl’s voice shook. She gasped for air.
“And where was your family? Taking photos of each other for Facebook?” Peter wiped the moisture from his eyes before any tears could fall. “If they even cared about you maybe they’d get their mind off their stupid social media accounts and spend some time with you.”
Isabella couldn’t contain it anymore. With tears streaming down her face, she ran to the door and paused with unsteady breaths. “You know what, Peter?” She raised her voice until she was screaming so loud all of Brookwood could hear. “I was trying to be nice, but I hate you. You’re awful!”
The bang of the door left the room even emptier than it’d been before she’d arrived.
Peter tossed the supplement bottles back into his desk drawer.
Nicholas had been perfect. He’d lived elegantly, but his one mistake—his one act of kindness that had led to his downfall—that mistake had also been the perfect conclusion to his story. A perfect man with perfect intentions. A perfect hero. Tragic ending and all. How could Peter possibly live up to that?
He shut the drawer and abandoned his desk. Standing in the middle of his bedroom that day, he couldn’t help but notice all of the imperfections. The wrinkle in his top bedsheet, the unevenly-sized pillows, the crooked paintings on the wall, the soda stain on the cream carpet by the leg of his desk. It was all such a mess.
So much cleaner than before, but still a mess.
16:14:33
JACKIE APPROACHED THE SUV with dripping clothes and a million raging thoughts.
A few minutes ago she’d reentered reality underwater, nearly inhaling a gasp of air before realizing where she was. As soon as Jackie had swum back to the shore and stood on the sand, she slid her socks and shoes back on and rushed toward the dunes. Peter and Kat followed her, and for the first time today, existed together in silence.
Jackie unlocked the SUV and sat at the driver’s seat, soaking the upholstery. Through the windshield was the same mass of water that had drowned Nicholas Moon two years ago. Peter’s strange behavior before she’d gone into the water was likely because he’d seen it coming. And he was right. Capsule had found a bruise fr
om the past and had burrowed a fist right into it, renewing the pain. The memories did have a purpose. A pattern. The first level had introduced Nicholas, and the second had introduced Emmeline. Capsule was turning Peter’s and Kat’s grief into a game.
Peter slammed the back door to the SUV, locking himself inside. As Kat joined Jackie in the front, Jackie pressed her back against the cushion of the driver’s seat. If only she could chuck her phone into the sea and make the game go away. They were nothing but three kids being toyed with.
Three lab rats.
Jackie jammed the key into the lock, but she didn’t turn it. The key sat there, waiting for action but never moving. The memory had been too dense. Too difficult to absorb. She remembered aspects of the memory only vaguely implied, like the reason why Peter took each of the supplements lined up on his desk. Vitamin D, because he believed it was impossible to get sufficient sunlight considering how much time he’d spend inside the curtained rooms at school. Potassium, because bananas had too much sugar for the benefits of obtaining it naturally. Lysine to fight off cold sores, oregano to boost the immune system, and the list went on.
She knew he’d decided to become a pescatarian. That he’d stopped baking sweets with his little sister. That he’d stopped watching anime with her in the evenings, topping off their mugs of hot chocolate with whipped cream whenever it dissolved into the fluid. She knew that he’d started biking to school, that he worked on homework in the backyard whenever it was warm enough to get as much natural sunlight as possible, and that because of his new choices, he no longer ate the same meals with his family at the same time and table as his family.
“Well maybe this game is ridiculous!” Peter had said. “Did you ever think of that? This whole game is a serious invasion of privacy.”
Jackie had learned so much about Peter with only a single glance at one of his many memories. Jackie and Kat had seen a part of his life that they never should have seen, especially without his permission, and yet here they were. Now they knew more about Peter than they’d ever wanted to.
Capsule Page 13
