Ellie Sandberg would love to reinvent herself. When she earns a spot at an elite boarding school for young inventors, it seems like the perfect opportunity: A summer away from home, away from her overprotective parents, and away from the hopeless cr...
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E L L I E
I lay atop my bed, flat on my back, staring up at my dorm room's white popcorn ceiling. Strange how this position brings me back to my first night here at Winthrop, full of misery and dread at the thought of staying here for two full weeks. As if falling in a swimming pool was the worst fate that could ever befall a person.
How little I knew...
A knock sounds. I know who it is. Over the last ten days, I've come to recognize the soft cadence of his knuckles scraping against the wooden panel of my door. I rise from the bed but I don't answer. He knows to let himself in without a word.
The door cracks open wide enough for him to slip inside. He eases it closed behind him, and I wince at the faint sound of the latch as it clicks inside the door jamb. For a moment, we meet eyes and both go completely still. I listen for any sign of movement in the corridor. Long seconds tick by inside my head.
All quiet...
The tension eases in my shoulders as I 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 his own room. Atop his own bed. Staring at his own white popcorn ceiling. After Dr. Carlyle discovered our clifftop vigil, all students were commanded to return to our dorms and wait inside our rooms until further notice. The fact that that Maddox disobeyed... now, when the risk is greatest...
My gaze flicks over his shoulder toward the closed door behind him, picturing the surveillance camera mounted on the other side. "Did you..." I bite my lip. "Maddox you can't doctor the video feeds anymore. Don't you see how bad that looks?"
He nods but he doesn't answer. He lets go of my hand and crosses the room, sinking down heavily in my desk chair.
Something's happened. Something's changed. 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. It's so unlike the boy I've come to know.
I wait for him to explain his presence, but the silence only lengthens. At last, I have no choice but to venture more whispered questions.
"What happened? Maddox? Did you hear something? Did they—did the searchers find something?"
He looks up and shakes his head. I release a breath from deep inside my chest, waiting for him to say more. At last his lips part and he whispers a few words. "It's all my fault."
I don't know what that means exactly. The sound of it sends my heart thumping. His eyes are pointed at me, but unfocused. Unseeing. Like he's talking to himself. 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 out somewhere, laughing her head off."
"Maybe."
I move toward him and kneel on the hardwood floor by his feet. "She's doing this to punish us, Maddox."
His hands resume their movement, sliding to his knees to pull the fabric taut, and then lifting up to let the wrinkles reappear. He does it three times in a row before I grab one of his hands and fold it inside both of mine.
I don't know this Maddox. I don't know these mannerisms. I don't know how to read that haunted look he's wearing on his face. None of it reminds me of the boy I talked to yesterday, or the day before, or the day before... Was that boy real? Was that easy charm and confidence all for show?
He looks like he didn't sleep last night. Maybe that's all it is. He grips my hands and pulls me toward him, bringing me to rest in his lap. I wrap my arms around his shoulders. He buries his face in my hair.
He speaks again but his voice is muffled. I think I hear him right, but I'm not one hundred percent sure. "It was supposed to be a game."
His shoulders shudder. Is he laughing? Crying? I hold him tighter and try to shush him, but he goes on after a moment.
"She isn't hiding, Ellie. She's gone."
"Why?" I whisper. "What are you not telling me?"
But he only shakes his head. "The less you know, the better."
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