It still hadn’t powered on by the time Dusty tapped my shoulder a few minutes later. “You are shivering,” he said, and it woke me to the fact. I could hear the insistent chatter of my teeth.
“Come.” He grabbed my bag for me and led me to the bathroom and showed me the bathtub full of steaming water. I stared at it like it was an alien. He stood my backpack on the floor, then stepped out and closed the door between us. For the first time I noticed my own smell. Musky sweat and musty dust on dirty clothes. I’d never gone so long without washing.
I stripped off my clothes and Walter’s life-saving long underwear. Gray’s holstered knife was still fastened to my arm, and it surprised me again. A weapon I had no need for. I unclipped the holster and stuffed it into my bag. Then I stepped into the bath.
The hot water melted me. It felt so good to be nestled in its warmth. I picked up the nugget of soap from the ledge and scrubbed it through my hair and down my body. It made me long for Gray and the touch I’d never known before him.
No one would touch me like that again. And if it wasn’t him, I didn’t want it.
I scrubbed the soap along my arm, underneath it, then over my shoulder and down to my wrist. Black marks laced the inside of my arm like medical stitches.
I saw her clearly as she wrote the letters. Dell in the courtyard of her school, lifting my hand, clicking her pen, the slight tickle as she left the address for her party on my skin. Only a few words were still legible: the date and time. Dell’s party was tonight.
I washed the pen marks off and pulled myself out of the tub. At least I had fresh underwear. One of my sweatshirts was clean and still smelled like store. I ran my fingers through the knots in my wet hair. I was grateful there was no mirror to show me my ravaged self.
WHEN I LEFT THE bathroom, I found Dusty sitting in his chair in front of the fire, sieving a small collection of pebbles from one hand to the other. He looked up when I walked out and pointed to a steaming bowl filled with broth, cubed potatoes, and forest greens set on the kitchen counter by Krista’s phone. “Please, my lady. You need to eat.” It was the same bowl and spoon he’d used when he’d welcomed us two nights ago. A whole identity ago.
“Thank you.” But it was hard to eat. Over-hunger, exhaustion, and shame had messed with my system. I had to contact my parents, and that made me nervous too. They would have to drive all the way up north, take me home, and fit me back inside my life.
I tapped into Krista’s phone. It was alive now, ready to let me in. 9393.
My mother had an Ittch account. I could message her there.
I logged into my account, the one Krista had hacked to lure Boyd. Except now there wasn’t just the one follower — me — there were thousands of followers. I remembered my mom’s social media pleas for my return, how only a few hours after she’d posted, a boggling amount of people had jumped on board.
I didn’t have time to consider my sketchy fame. Mostly I didn’t care.
I clicked into the Search Accounts bar. But instead of searching for my mom, my fingers typed Gray’s name. His grid came up: photos of him and his friends, an electric guitar, a fat pug. I zoomed in on one of the shots. Zoomed close on his face. The angles I thought I knew so well. The eyes I’d hoped would keep looking at me.
I hesitated at the message button. What if I just said hello? Let him know I was okay? Told him not to waste any time searching for me?
My fingers hovered over his message box. I began to type: I’m safe. I’m sorry —
A veil of tears dropped in so thick I couldn’t see anymore. I stopped writing. But my hands were shaking. By mistake I pressed send.
Before I could register any regret, I noticed there was a new message in my inbox. From Boyd. Dated April 15. Three days ago.
Hey. R u still looking for K?
I remembered something about her text.
K used to do that. She had her own code for it.
The eye = I. Like… Imma do this, I wanna go there, whatever.
The finger I don’t get. Pointing at what?
The scissors = K said it was like a peace sign but bad.
Like shred the peace, make trouble.
The stars should be where she is or what she’s doing.
But sorry don’t get it.
It’s bad out there. Hope ur ok.
There was a moment of aw. Aw, Boyd was checking in on me. Aw, Boyd cared that I was okay. Aw, Boyd thought I had what it took to solve Krista’s infuriating code.
But I also couldn’t help wondering — was this actually the key to Krista’s message?
Only you: Only Boyd can find me. Single eye: I am … Pointing finger: somewhere … Scissors: making trouble … Stars: something/somewhere …
Her other message was still in my inbox — the one she’d sent to Boyd from my account: Owl emoji, Fri at 2.
Except I had never bothered to look for Krista at City Hall on Friday at two, had I? Even when she might’ve been right there in front of me. A girl, medium height, dark blond hair, standing near the pedestrian corridor that ran between the City Hall towers, turned my way, possibly looking at me. A person with a vested interest in stopping me from finding her.
Krista wanted Boyd to find her. She wanted him to chase after her. To prove his undying love.
Krista wouldn’t think twice about knocking me out on a back street and stealing my money — not for herself, but to stop me from interfering with her plans. So she could keep planting her riddles and puzzles. So she could achieve her perfect ending.
But I’d been too busy impersonating Messenger 93. Following Gray. Falling for him.
Lying to him.
I clicked into Krista’s Ittch. There were no new posts in her feed. She was obviously still gone. Still destined to fall, I supposed. In fewer than nineteen hours.
A voice floated in. Seventeen hours.
And then another voice, or thought, or realization. Dell was hosting a party tonight. A party could go late, into the beginning of a new day. Dell was the last person to be seen with Krista.
But I wasn’t going to search for Krista anymore. I didn’t want to save her. I didn’t want to save anyone. As Vivvie would say, I didn’t have the skills.
Still, something made me click over to Dell’s Ittch account. I noticed right away that her follower-count had doubled since the night when Remy had shown it to me. But Dell hadn’t added any recent glamor shots or school-taunting thumbs-down posts. The latest images on her grid were black boxes with red-lettered invitations to The Crusade.
The Crusade? That seemed a bit excessive for a beauty product promo party.
Each invite counted down the days. 3 days to The Crusade. 2 days to The Crusade. 1 day to The Crusade. Tonight! Inviting everyone to Make a Difference! She shared the address I’d just washed from my skin. She shared the password. Sweet-sweet. So much for exclusive entry.
The last actual photo in her stream was from five days ago, right before the invitation countdowns began. It was a close-up of two intertwined hands. Soft white fingers with slick manicures. Baby’s first ink, it read underneath.
Both wrists had small tattoos on them. One had a subtle red rash around it — freshly done. It caught my attention because it was a black silhouette of a bird. Just like the tattoo on that influencer’s ankle in the Ittch photo, the one the waitress in the diner had noticed when I was trolling Krista’s most-liked list. It was just like the bird silhouette sketched on the paper that was taped to Krista’s locker. The scrap that was now in the pocket of my raincoat. That I’d stolen as a possible clue.
The tattoo on the other wrist in the photo was … two tiny paired stars.
I went back to Dell’s feed. And then I saw them everywhere. Star emojis in her bio, photos of her wearing star earrings or star pins. Much farther down, a close-up of her face with star-shaped makeup around one of her eyes
.
I remembered Remy telling me about the photo Krista had taken of Dell in front of our school: That post went viral. It sent Dell to a whole new level. Everyone knows her now.
And Dell in the courtyard after that, saying: The response to that post was lit. I owe that girl big-time.
Dell was the biggest star in our world. Her over-the-top signature was stars. Krista — Tragically Missing Teen — was making her an even bigger star. And all of it was happening right out in the open.
The finger emoji wasn’t pointing up. It was scratching an: Ittch.
Eye, finger, scissors, stars: I’m on Ittch making trouble with Dell. Only you, Boyd, can save me.
Krista must have assumed that it would get out that she’d taken that shot of Dell in front of our school. That Boyd would wonder if Krista had gone off with Dell. She assumed he would investigate. Then later, when he didn’t solve that riddle, she assumed he would solve the next one — the owl at City Hall — and he would find her there. Krista must’ve imagined that Boyd would bring her home, both of them aglow with everlasting love, reunited for ever and always.
She will fall.
Seventeen hours.
Is it so terrible that I wanted to see it for myself?
I rifled in my backpack for the bus ticket Lily had given me. It was still valid. I turned to Dusty. “My parents aren’t answering.” One more lie. “I have to get home on my own.”
He was still sieving pebbles from hand to hand. “Yes.”
“I know it’s far, but if you could take me to the depot at Earl’s, I can take the bus to the city, and from there I can get back to my family.”
He opened his hands over the table and released the cluster of pebbles onto it. “I will take you where you need to go, my lady.”
DUSTY DROVE ME THROUGH the countryside, along roads that Gray and I had skirted, and eventually along the highway that had brought the trucker. We didn’t talk, but settled into our different silences and watched the way ahead as it came at us and then disappeared into the past.
It didn’t take long before we arrived at the traveler’s intersection with its kayak shop and gas stations and Earl’s Diner. Dusty pulled his car into the lot and stopped.
I grabbed my bag, but turned to him before I got out. “You saved my life. Thank you.”
He said, “If a person is going to be, they will be.” A peaceful smile spread across his face. “It’s magic, you see?”
I let his smile infuse me. “I see.”
“It’s magic, you hear me?”
“It’s magic,” I said. “I hear you.” And we sat there and smiled at each other for a long time, and I let it fill me up.
2
AS THE BUS TRUNDLED back to the city, I slept on and off. The landscape changed in reverse from when I left — wilderness to suburban to city. The light crested then waned as day came and went, as it turned into evening, and then into night.
As we entered the city, I readied myself. Took stock of all the things I’d collected since I’d started. The black feather that had appeared on my floor on the first night. The photo of Krista kissing my face. Her phone. Her doodle of an M-shaped black bird. The single white sequin from Vivvie’s vest. Vivvie’s origami power-girl. The pebble from Dusty. And three things that belonged to Gray — the Jocelyn poster, the blank plastic mask, and his knife.
I had to face it: I’d stolen most of them. Then I had justified stealing them.
I checked to make sure no one was watching me — the three people nearby were all fast asleep — and strapped the knife back around my forearm. Until I could get it to Gray — maybe through Lily — it would stay with me. Not as a weapon, but as a reminder.
By the time the bus arrived downtown, it was late. Ticking close to eleven.
I got off at the depot, hiding my face inside my coat hood like I’d done on the first couple of days. Just a little while longer, I thought, and this game would be over.
I searched Krista’s GPS for a route to Dell’s party. It was kind of far from the city center, on the west end, and took a few transfers. As I traveled the route, my fingers played nervously with the browser on her phone. Pretty soon I was logging into my Ittch.
The inbox showed 5 messages. All from Gray.
Some wishes do come true.
I’d sent him my lame, unfinished apology — I’m safe. I’m sorry — and he had answered five times:
Where are you?
They’re looking for you.
You gotta let them know where you are.
And most amazing of all: We got a trace on Jocelyn’s phone. Vivvie and the girls did it. Convinced those cops who picked them up to look into it.
Then one last message: I thought you should know.
I wrote him back:
Best news ever!
Thanks for telling me!
Then I wrote: Back in the city. Going home soon. Have one more thing to do.
Then: One last Crusade :)
By the time the bus pulled up to the last stop, I still hadn’t heard back from him. It was okay though. He’d done enough already.
IT WAS A SKETCHY part of town, mostly old warehouses and industrial buildings, made sketchier by the nighttime dark. There was nobody wandering the street, no lineup down the block for any party, no sign out front. The moon scrolled onto the horizon. It looked gigantic, like it always does when it’s full and low. It tagged the far-off city landmarks like a bruised eye.
I wondered if it was possible that I was too late, that the party had ended already. I stood under the one streetlamp and checked the numbers on the industrial doors. Someone had spray-painted a black-and-white skull on one of them. I took a breath and knocked on it.
No one came. I tried the handle. It was locked. I banged harder, this time with both hands. I banged again and again. I was about to give up when I heard the thunk of the bolt unlatching on the other side. The door pushed open against me.
A bulky, bearded guy in black clothes stood on the other side. “Sorry, man, thought it was over down here.” He sounded out of breath. “You here for the Crusade? For that girl?”
“That girl?”
“The missing one.”
Krista. My heart rate accelerated. This was about Krista.
“Yes,” I said. “I’m here for her.”
The doorman looked me over. “You got the password?”
Dell had put the password in plain sight on her Ittch. I could still hear her baby-voice as she was writing the invite on my arm. “Sweet-sweet,” I said to the doorman.
“Cool.” He stepped aside so I could go in.
HE LED ME UP three warehouse-flights of stairs, the extra-long kind. After what I’d been through over the last week, it was easy to climb. Thumping techno bass accompanied us up the last flight. It sounded like a party — not a Crusade for a missing girl. I remembered Dell trying to sell me on some beauty product. Radiant Beam will make your skin super-soft and bright! Dell was going to save us all by making us more beautiful.
The bouncer presented the only door on the top floor. The music was so loud I couldn’t hear what he said. I smiled and watched him leave, then secured the hood of my raincoat over my head — a stealth approach — and walked in.
The room was one of those glamorized warehouse spaces — concrete surfaces dressed up with chandeliers and gold velvet, glitter-balls punching tiny gleaming holes across everything, shabby velvet chairs grouped together.
Even though it was late, there were still a lot of people, all ages but mostly young. It was dark and the music was lit and some kids were dancing — messy-dancing, leaning on each other, lolling heads. Drunk or high. Most were hanging out in groups, talking, laughing.
There were a few people walking around in costumes: black lace half-masks, black bodysuits, black tights, black lace gloves. Donation boxes wer
e looped around their necks. Collecting funds for Krista, I supposed. That missing girl.
Maybe this was Krista’s ultimate game. Get someone famous to throw her a party. Force people to show up by the hundreds to bow to her. Guilt them into raising money for her cause.
Through the thumping chaos, I spotted my old gang — Anusha, L.J., Hattie. They were sitting cross-legged on the ground, off to one side. Like everyone else, they looked like they were at a party — into each other, heads keeping time to the beat. The view cleared a bit, and then I saw Boyd and Remy sitting with them too.
I don’t know why I hadn’t expected them all to be there. If this was a party for Krista, obviously they would have to show up. No more cryptic clues for Boyd to miss or mess up. Krista was forcing him to ride in like a shining knight.
Anusha said something that made them all burst out laughing. Hattie and L.J. covered their mouths like it was scandalous. Remy grabbed Boyd’s knee. He threaded his fingers with hers. It was the briefest connection, and then their hands split apart.
It was strange not to feel that old heart-race when I looked at Boyd. I remembered Anusha saying once that the best part of breaking up was that you get to fall in love again.
Fall in love.
Fall could mean so many things.
Something you could do over and over. Something you could pick yourself up from.
Gray rushed my mind, but I blinked him out. I had to stay focused.
I scanned the room again. There was no obvious place for a physical fall. At least not a deadly one. A couple of the donation box people strolled by. I noticed long black feathers flaring off their black, body-suited arms and backs. More feathers and a partial beak on their half-masks.
Were they supposed to be crows?
One of them stepped too close to me and I whirled away, right into a kid on the dance floor. He caught my arm and held me steady. He was sweating, his pupils were dilated. “You okay?” he said.
I recognized him from school and clutched my hood to my face. “What time is it?”
Messenger 93 Page 23
