Scared little rabbits, p.16
Scared Little Rabbits, page 16
“Let go,” I say.
“No. You let go.”
I give the backpack a tug, but I stop at the sound of ripping fabric. Somewhere on this bag, a seam has given way. I can’t tell if it’s the strap around my shoulder or the one clutched in Eleanor’s fist.
She raises an eyebrow, daring me to tug my side again.
So this is what we’ve come to? This girl has been the center of my life since we were both two years old. I thought we’d matured since then, but no. After all that time, we’re playing one last playground game. Tug-of-war.
“I’m heading back to Fenmore anyway,” she says, twisting the canvas loop around her wrist. “I’ll drop it off in her room.”
“No.”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m not going to light it on fire.”
I see where that ripping sound came from. There’s a thread unraveling by my shoulder, where the strap meets the fabric of the bag. Part of me wants to tug anyway, even if we leave the whole backpack in tatters, but I hold back. There are other ways to win at tug-of-war besides brute force. With a shrug, I let the strap slide off my shoulder and down my arm. “Fine. Have it your way, Eleanor. Have everything your way.”
She smiles at me, but her eyes are frosty cold. “Good boy.” Then she tosses Nora’s backpack over one shoulder and turns away, heading for the door. “I knew you’d come around.”
That’s where she’s wrong though. These games have gone on between us for too long already. It’s time I put a stop to them, once and for all.
* * *
NORA
This can’t be happening right now.
My backpack… How could I have been this careless? I was so flustered in the assembly hall that I didn’t stop to think. I grabbed my laptop but forgot to take my bag.
I know exactly where I left it, sitting open on the edge of the platform. I saw it there before I left the room with Reese. But when I returned to look for it, the backpack was nowhere to be found.
And neither was my visor.
My feet drag as I trudge down the winding path toward Fenmore Hall. I scuff the bottom of my shoe against the ground.
Maybe I should check with Maddox. Is it possible he took my bag back to his dorm, not realizing my visor was inside? I don’t know, but I can’t go running to Maddox like some needy little kid. Not after the way we left things. He made it clear he needed me to keep my distance until he summons me. He’ll kill me if I show up uninvited at his room.
There’s no way around it. I’ll have to tell Reese my visor’s missing. But I can’t go to her room! No way. Not after the dirty look Eleanor shot at me back there, like she might vaporize me where I stood through pure, undiluted loathing.
Reese wasn’t much friendlier after we left the assembly hall. We both knew we’d been dismissed to give Maddox and Eleanor space to talk. Neither of us bothered with the pretense once we left the room. “I warned you,” was all she said as we made our way outside and took off in opposite directions.
Whatever college-related drama went on between Reese and Eleanor, they seem to have patched up their differences. Reese is squarely on Team Eleanor. Otherwise known as: Team Erase-Nora-Weinberg-from-Existence.
I hang my head. Why can’t I catch a break for once? I mean, Reese and Eleanor were never going to be my BFFs, but at least we’d come to a grudging truce for work-related matters. But now this. After the way they treated me when I dunked my visor in the pool, I can only imagine their abuse when they hear I lost it.
The main door to Fenmore Hall swings open before I can reach for the handle. Miranda emerges, her thicket of curly hair tied back into a ponytail. She looks different somehow—younger and more approachable—without the usual cap pulled down over her forehead. I guess it’s too hot out for beanies, even for her.
“Hey!” Miranda calls to me, holding the door open. “What’s the matter?”
I hesitate, and my eyes sweep over hers. Maybe I should confide in her. She’s been nice to me lately—and by “nice” I mean acknowledging my presence instead of looking straight through me when we pass. If I told her about the visor, would she run interference on my behalf?
I’m desperate for an ally, but…no. Miranda and I are acquaintances, not friends. I have no friends in this place. Not really. Maybe I would have made some if I hadn’t spent the past couple of weeks glued to Maddox’s side, but it’s too late to change that now.
Miranda might be friendly enough for small talk, but her allegiances are clear. If anything, she and Eleanor have been tighter than ever lately. I see them sitting together in the dining hall for practically every meal, even when Samirah isn’t around.
I fan my face with my hand as I grab the door handle from her. “I’m fine,” I lie. “Just overheated.”
I don’t stop for further chitchat. No doubt Miranda will find out the real reason for my misery at dinner tonight, when Eleanor fills her in. For now, I head to my own room with no visor. No backpack. No hope of retaining a shred of dignity. Only my laptop tucked beneath my arm.
I reach the top of the steps, and I draw up short.
Am I seeing things?
Oh, please tell me I’m not hallucinating…
I clap my hand against my chest as I stride quickly toward my door. There, hanging from the doorknob, is my backpack.
I set my laptop on the floor and hug the bag fiercely. Maddox must have spotted it in the assembly hall and brought it back here. I rush to pick it up and zip it open. My visor sits inside, filling the dark cavity with blue LED light.
I pluck it out of the bag and press my lips to the smooth black frame. Then I slip the lanyard around my neck where it belongs.
Crisis averted!
Well, no. I silently amend that last statement as I kick off my shoes and sink down at the edge of my bed. Minor predicament averted. The real crisis still looms over me like a thundercloud.
I cover my eyes with my hands and collapse backward onto my bed. Maddox…
I was so sure he was going to kiss me. I can picture the look on his face afterward. The look of a boy with mixed feelings. The look of a person being torn in two.
“I can’t,” he said in that voice full of regret. “It’s complicated.”
I suppose I should be happy. This is progress. The last time I confessed to liking a boy, he looked like he might vomit. On the scale of rejections, “it’s complicated” scores a huge step up.
So why do I feel infinitely worse than I did when Trevor shot me down? Maddox didn’t even reject me. He told me he’d explain. He promised to talk later. But now that the thrill has subsided, the disappointment chafes inside my chest, shredding my heart like a cheese grater.
Nothing with Maddox feels remotely like my crush on Trevor Chang. Not even close. The stakes are so much higher. This program ends in four days, and then we’ll scatter to the winds. I’ll head back to New Hampshire, Maddox to New York. I doubt we’ll keep in touch. We’ll never cross paths again…
The thought makes me feel like I might break.
Maddox and I will go our separate ways, whether he kisses me or not. So why does it matter so much? The answer stares back at me, impossible to ignore. There’s only one explanation if I’m being honest with myself. What I feel for Maddox goes beyond a simple crush. He’s been the object of my every waking thought since I got here. His face is the first image that pops into my head when I wake each morning and the last thing I think about before I drift to sleep. Is it possible that I might be in love with him?
Don’t be ridiculous, Nora.
I can’t help thinking of the first night of the program—the first time I played InstaLove on a visor—and that euphoric sensation of floating, my feet no longer connected to the ground.
Remember where that feeling left me that time? Didn’t I vow to protect myself from making that mistake again?
I built an entire warning system to prevent any further missteps. But I didn’t see the real hazard until it was too late. Too late to protect my heart. Too late to pull back from the precipice. I was too busy floating on air, and now I’ve stumbled over the edge.
I’m falling hard—and I have no idea where I’ll land.
I sit back up. Reese was right. “I warned you…” I should’ve listened. This won’t end well. Talk about hazardous terrain. I can only hope Maddox will reach out a hand and catch me before my heart ends up completely smashed.
“I’ll send you an InstaQuest,” he told me. “Later. Tonight. After curfew.”
That’s hours away. How am I supposed to survive the suspense until then? I slip on my visor, hoping by some miracle to see a new notification from his avatar. My most recent interaction fills the screen.
What the heck? My fingers tense, and my bedsheet bunches against my palms. Did he change his avi? To that?
“No,” I moan out loud. “Whyyy?” Doesn’t he know how often I log in and check my account, purely to see the expression on his avatar’s face?
There’s no expression now. No puppy-dog eyes to make me smile. No smirk to make me blush. His perfect features have been replaced by a fathomless gray square. And his username? He must have changed that too—shortened to his first initial.
M
The Dropbox (Entry 6)
ELEANOR
https://bit.ly/dropboxL
Dropbox > Personal
File Name: Entry 1.txt
Created on: 7/1/2019
Visible to: Deleted
File Name: Entry 2.txt
Created on: 7/2/2019
Visible to: Deleted
File Name: Entry 3.txt
Created on: 7/9/2019
Visible to: Deleted
File Name: Entry 4.txt
Created on: 7/10/2019
Visible to: Deleted
File Name: Entry 5.txt
Created on: 7/17/2019
Visible to: Deleted
File Name: Entry 6.txt
Created on: 7/17/2019
Visible to: Only you
UGH UGH UGH! It’s all screwed up! I can’t believe Moxie is giving me this much trouble. I expected Reese to be the suspicious one, not Maddox!
Now Reese and I are chill. She totally caved after I shed a few tears and “confided” how much I need my best friend. Reese loves nothing more than to feel like she’s the most important person in my life. She’s so predictable.
But Mox? I think he just saw through me.
He realized that I need him more than he needs me. All this time, I had him distracted by my “jealous ex” routine, but somehow he saw behind the curtain.
How????
It’s that girl’s fault. Lowercase. Maddox used to be so nice and easygoing before she got her hooks into him. He never questioned anything about our relationship. But now he’s got a reason to think a little harder, to look a little closer at the fuzzy edges.
I can’t believe I’m dealing with this now. I just need Maddox to keep his mouth shut a while longer!
OK. Breathe.
The plan can still work. Maker Fair is July 21. Eleven days before my birthday. Eleven days when I need to fall off the radar: Disappear–> Radio silence–> Lie lie lie–> Stall stall stall–> Make it until August 1–> Then happy birthday to moi!
And then it’s a done deal.
The tricky part is Maker Fair. I wish my parents weren’t coming. I already told them Moxie and I are going to Tahoe for two weeks afterward. I can’t have him making eyes at another girl in front of their faces! They’ll know something’s not right. They’ll go sniffing around, and then it’s only a matter of time before they realize where I’m really going.
I can’t let that happen. Maddox needs to stay on script. But I just lost all my leverage.
What now?
Think, L. Think!
If I can’t control Maddox, then I’ll need some distraction. Something to keep everyone otherwise occupied during the fair.
Distraction, the key to illusion. There’s more than one way to make a rabbit disappear.
Right. I know what I have to do. Desperate times call for desperate measures. M vetoed that idea, but so what? I can do it on my own. I have little Lowercase’s visor.
22
The Less You Know
NORA
Winthrop Student Mail Server
July 18, 2019
From: Office of Dr. Carlyle
To: Summer Students (All)
Subject: CAMPUS LOCKDOWN
Attention:
One of our students, Eleanor Winthrop, was reported missing this morning by her roommate. Miss Winthrop was last seen leaving the library yesterday evening, July 17, shortly before curfew. If you have any information that may assist in locating her, please reply to this message or speak to the residential adviser in your dormitory.
In the meantime, with the search ongoing, this campus is officially on lockdown. Remain in your assigned dormitory buildings at all times. Anyone returning to the off-campus location known as “The Overlook” will face severe disciplinary consequences.
I close my laptop and roll onto my back. My dorm room’s white popcorn ceiling looms above. Strange how this position brings me back to my first night at Winthrop, full of misery and dread at the thought of staying here for three full weeks. As if falling in a swimming pool were the worst fate that could ever befall a person.
How little I knew.
Eleanor Winthrop has been missing for twenty-four hours, and the police aren’t searching for her at the bottom of a swimming pool. They’re searching at the bottom of the lake.
The whispered rumors were already flying when I woke this morning. I went to bed full of anxiety over Maddox—trying to interpret what he meant by graying out his avatar, and swallowing my disappointment over the InstaQuest he never sent—but I woke with Eleanor’s name buzzing in my ears.
“She’s missing…searching the lake…she told Reese she was heading to The Overlook…everyone’s going up there to watch…” I spent most of the day huddled with the others on that forbidden shelf of granite, watching the police divers work. They were still at it by the time we tramped back down to campus. I wonder if the divers will keep searching after dusk.
A knock sounds at my door. That reminds me of the first night here as well, lying in my bed in misbuttoned pajamas, with Maddox’s nighttime visit to fetch his crumpled blazer off my floor.
Is that him now? Violating lockdown? I can tell it is from the cadence of his knuckles against the doorframe.
Knock, knock, knock-knock-knock.
“Come in,” I whisper, sitting up.
The door cracks open wide enough for him to slip inside. He eases it closed behind him, and I wince at the loud click of the latch inside the doorjamb. For a moment, we both go still, listening for any sign of movement in the corridor. Long seconds tick by inside my head.
All quiet.
The tension eases in my shoulders. I slide off the bed and go to him. His face looks drawn, dark smudges beneath his eyes.
“Maddox, what are you doing? You shouldn’t be here.”
He reaches for my hand. Turns it over. Runs his thumb along my palm. “I know.”
He should be in Grier. In his own bed. Staring at his own white popcorn ceiling. The last I saw him was on the clifftop along with all the others.
My gaze flicks over his shoulder toward the door he closed behind him, blocking the surveillance camera mounted on the other side. “Maddox, you can’t doctor the video feeds anymore. Don’t you see how bad that looks?”
He doesn’t answer. He lets go of my hand and crosses the room, sinking heavily into my desk chair.
Something’s happened. There’s no way he would have risked coming here otherwise. He stares mutely at his legs, running his palms against his thighs to smooth the wrinkles in his khaki-colored pants. For once, he didn’t iron them.
I wait for him to explain his presence, but the silence lengthens. I have no choice but to venture more whispered questions.
“What is it? Did you hear something? Did the searchers find her?”
My heart thrums, waiting for his answer. It felt the same earlier this afternoon, standing at The Overlook as we watched the police diver rise from the bottom of the lake.
“Is it…” someone had whispered. “Is it her?”
I’m not sure who spoke the question. The voices around me had intermingled, mixing and echoing, jumbled together with my thoughts. We could all see the answer in an instant. Whatever that diver was holding, it didn’t look human. Way too small. I realized what it was when the diver reached the boat. He held the object out to a policewoman kneeling on the deck, and a fading ray of sunlight caught the smooth surface of the lenses.
An InSight Visor…
But still no sign of the girl who had been wearing it—not unless Maddox has some news.
“What?” I prompt him again. “Did they find something?”
He looks up and shakes his head. I release a breath from somewhere deep inside, waiting for him to say more. At last he whispers a few words. “It’s all my fault.”
I don’t know what he means, but the sound of it sends my pulse racing. His eyes point at me, but they remain unfocused. Unseeing. Like I’m not really here—like I’m a ghost, or a piece of augmented reality painted in.
There’s something creepy about it. My hand rises to my throat. “She might be fine. You know how she is. She’s probably hiding somewhere, laughing her head off.”
“Maybe.”
I move toward him and kneel on the hardwood floor at his feet. “She’s doing this to punish us, Maddox.”
His hands resume their movement, sliding to his knees to pull the fabric taut, then lifting up to let the wrinkles reappear. He does it three times in a row before I grab his hand and fold it inside both of mine.
I don’t know this Maddox. I don’t know these mannerisms, or how to read the haunted look on his face. None of it reminds me of the boy I talked to yesterday, or the day before, or the day before…
