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 click the website closed, feeling queasy, and set my phone facedown on the wobbly wooden table that's served as my nightstand for as long as I've lived in this house. I shouldn't have gone online. I should have known better... but my curiosity got the better of me.
He died a hero...
Not exactly, TeenHack. I'm the only person alive who knows what really went down atop that rain-drenched cliff—and Emerson Kemp died trying to cover his ass. But I suppose there could be no more fitting obituary. He was all about "augmenting" reality, right to the bitter end.
My cell phone buzzes, and I pick it up. Finally. I've been expecting this call all evening. My heart squeezes as the incoming request fills my screen:
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It's weird seeing Maddox's face pictured there. His actual face. No more avatars for either of us... and no more InstaLove for anyone. The app has been down all week, pending investigation into the accidents, but there's no escaping the fact that the InstaQuest functionality led three users to the place where they met their end. I don't see how the company can come back from that—especially without it's CEO.
No, that obituary in TeenHack wasn't just for Emerson. His beloved company died with him.
I hit Accept on my phone, and Maddox greets me with a wave.
"Hey El—"
His face pixelates, and I miss the end of his sentence as the video feed freezes. My wi-fi signal isn't strong enough here in my bedroom. I creep into the hallway and down the stairs, careful not to make much noise. It's after midnight and my parents are already in bed.
Maddox's image springs back to life as I take a seat at the kitchen table. "—Hello? Ellie?"
"Hi," I whisper as loudly as I dare with sleeping parents overhead. "I'm here. Can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear." Maddox flashes a thumbs up. His voice comes through, diminished slightly by the street noise in the background. He always calls me from the fire escape outside his window so he won't disturb his grandmother. His face is half-illuminated by a streetlight, half lost in shadow.
