Ambrose's friend, Special Agent Valerie Levett, is a beautiful, brilliant, intimidating woman. When she met us at the police station, she shook my hand so hard that I feared it was broken. Then she proceeded to explain the process of tracing a phone call via cell towers, prattling on about power levels and triangulation. I only half-understood what she was saying.
"For this to work best, he has to call you," Valerie tells me, her own phone pressed to her ear as she talks to someone from the mobile company.
"Should I tell him there's an emergency?"
"No, do not say that. If he has the girl, he'll assume you're onto him and ditch his cell—if he hasn't already."
I go silent for a moment, trying to figure out what to send to him.
"Alright, I got it," I finally say. I compose the text and then show it to Valerie and Ambrose, who both nod their heads in approval.
Me: OMG! I got a letter from Columbia... and it's in a giant envelope. Do you think I got accepted?!?!
Rem peers over my shoulder. "Is that true, Vange?"
"Yeah," I admit, "it came in two days ago. I haven't had the heart to open it yet."
I stare at the screen for what feels like hours, willing him to respond. The sooner we track him down, the sooner we bring my sister home.
My phone dings, causing me to nearly drop the device.
It's a text message from Benson.
Benson: Rejection letters don't come in big envelopes. Open it!!!
"What do I say now?" I ask Valerie.
"See if he'll call you. Tell him you want to open it together," she suggests.
"Okay," I reply, and then begin to type.
Me: I'm so nervous. Call me? We can open it "together".
His response is instantaneous.
Benson: Will do! Just have to finish something real quick. I'll call you in five.
"I don't have to stay on the phone, right?" I inquire. "I mean, you can get all the info you need within seconds."
"Yes, technically," she says, "but we want to keep the element of surprise. If you answer and then hang up, he'll get suspicious, and he might run."
I let out an audible groan. The last thing I want to do is engage Clementine's kidnapper in pleasant conversation. As Kira would say, I'd rather take a gasoline bath and then set myself on fire.
I wait for his call. Exactly five minutes pass by before my phone vibrates. I stare at the caller ID, at my father's name. My heart races. My hands shake.
Pick up the phone, Vange.
"Answer it!" Valerie shouts.
"Oh, um, hello?" I say, picking up on the last ring.
"Vange, hey! It's good to hear your voice," Benson's low tone rings through the speaker. "Do you have the envelope? Are you ready to open it?"
"Yeah, I'm r-ready."
"You okay? You sound nervous."
"I mean, I am nervous. What if... what if it's bad news? What if they don't like me?"
Valerie gives me a thumbs up. Ambrose pats my shoulder, flashing an encouraging smile.
"What? Impossible. Who wouldn't like you? You're the most remarkable, intelligent teenager I've ever met."
"You have to say that. You're my—"
I stop, covering my mouth with my hand.
I won't call him that. I won't give him the honor of being anyone's dad. He's a mere sperm donor, nothing more.
"Maybe I am biased," he says, oblivious to my verbal mishap, "but I believe in you. Ready to open that letter?"
"Um, yeah." I tuck my phone between my cheek and my shoulder as Valerie passes me a piece of paper, gesturing for me to rip it.
"Well?"
"I... I got in," I murmur, staring at the shredded sheet of blank parchment. Louder, I exclaim, "I got in!"
"Oh, my god! That's amazing! I'm so proud of you!" I can hear the excitement behind his words, the smile in his voice.
He really is proud of me.
"Thank y-you," I choke out. I lick my lips and taste salt. I wipe my cheek and realize it's drenched with teardrops.
How long have I been crying for?
"I have to go, Vange, but I'm so happy for you. I can't wait for all of us to celebrate once you're in New York. Bye!"
The phone call ends. I toss my cell to the ground.
"Shh, don't cry. It's okay," Rem whispers, lifting me from my chair and onto his lap.
"You did great, Evangeline," Ambrose praises me. "Have you considered a career in law enforcement?"
I shake my head before burying my face in Rem's shoulder and allowing the tears to fall freely.
<>*<>*<>*<>*<>
"They've been gone for a while," I comment, referring to Ambrose and Valerie.
"They've already tracked his location, probably. My guess is they're trying to assemble a team and make a game plan," Rem replies, rubbing soothing circles on my back with his fingertips.
I rest my head on his shoulder and press a quick kiss to his cheek. "I'm so grateful for you," I murmur against his skin.
He looks down at me. "Why?"
"I've done everything to scare you away, yet here you are. You're my rock, Rem. I know I don't tell you enough, but I love you, and I will continue to love you for as long as you'll have me."
He lifts my chin and kisses my lips softly. "Then I guess you'll be loving me for a long time, because I intend to keep you forever."
Before I can respond, the door opens. Valerie reappears, a briefcase in one hand and a travel mug in the other.
"Where's my dad?" Rem asks.
"He and a few other guys left. They're on their way to Geneva," she answers.
"Geneva? That's not far from here. Is that where Benson is?" I demand.
"Um... no?"
"For an FBI agent, you're a terrible liar," Rem mutters.
"You're just kids. You've both done more than enough already," Valerie tells us. "Let the big guys take care of it, alright? Go to dinner, see a movie, have unprotected sex. Just be normal teenagers for one afternoon."
Rem and I nod our heads as we slip past her and make a run for his car.
"So I kind of like her idea," he says, sticking the key into the ignition. "I think after we follow my dad to Geneva, we should get dinner, go to a movie, and then have sex—protected, of course."
"Once my sister is safe and sound, you can do whatever you want to me," I flirt back, looping my fingers through his as he revs the engine.
To Geneva we go—and, hopefully, to Clementine.
Dun dun dun dun.... Gotta love a classic teenage rescue mission, am I right? This will go well 🥴
The end is near, folks. Only a few chapters left.
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What Lurks Beneath the Surface ✔️
Teen Fiction"Maybe I should bring you home," he suggests. "Maybe you should find us a more secluded spot," I toss back, snaking my arms around his neck. "You're pretty drunk, Vange." "I am." "And we barely know each other." I feel myself deflate like a balloon...
