made some noises, but they didn’t sound like words to me. It’s hard, being away from home. Even for a little while.” Hannah’s voice was soft. Wistful.
“Do you miss your family?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Yeah. I do. I mean, I like it here and all. Most of the time,” she said, as a shadow crossed her face. “But I never thought I’d miss my mom and dad so much.”
She stared at me, and her voice lowered. “You know, if you’re homesick already, you should really think about staying in public school. Boarding school isn’t all it’s made out to be.”
As I met her steady gaze, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a warning.
She coughed. “Anyway . . . I’m sure you want to get back to bed.”
She started to rise, and that’s when I remembered. Her eyes. The retinal scan. I couldn’t let her look away.
My hand whipped out and landed on her arm. Just as I’d hoped, her gaze darted back to mine. “I just . . . I’m sorry you miss home. Is there any way you could transfer?”
But even as a part of me made the suggestion, a different part of me regretted it. If I really cared about her, I wouldn’t be using this moment to steal something from her. Apparently, androids could also feel guilty.
Retinal copy: Initiate.
“No, not when I have this grant. My parents would be mad.”
Image processing . . .
Afraid that she would look away before I completed the scan, I didn’t let go of her arm. “That sucks. Isn’t there a way you could explain, make them understand?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t know . . . maybe.” But the defeated slump of her shoulders said something else.
Image retrieved. Storing copy.
Somewhere, in the recesses of my android brain, I now had a perfect replica of Hannah’s eyes. Stored and ready for use.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She shrugged. “It’s not your fault my parents don’t listen.”
I nodded and pretended that was the only reason for my apology. I was so sorry, so deeply sorry. For what I just did, but also everything else she was going through. This wasn’t some virtual life for Hannah. This was the real thing—her one life—and she was spending her precious teenage years away from people she loved. Huddled over her desk. Gulping coffee to keep her awake . . . to spend more time at her desk.
Something here still wasn’t adding up. I knew that Holland had to be involved here, but I didn’t know how. I only knew this: a fierce need to protect this girl swelled in my chest. She deserved better than this. Just like Sarah had.
Back at Quinn’s, I had done something terrible. Something unforgivable. I’d been tricked into it, yes, but I was the one who pulled the trigger, and I would always have to live with that. Bad luck—and my own mistakes—had cost me Hunter. But they weren’t going to cost another girl her happiness. Whatever it took, I was going to make sure that Hannah had a chance to live and love fully someday. The chance that Sarah never had.
One day soon, I might find that I had two hours left on earth.
And if that was the case, I wanted my last days to count for something.
Hannah headed back to her desk, where a light still glowed over an open book.
I frowned. “Aren’t you ever going to bed?”
“In a bit. I’ve got some more studying to do.”
A bit turned out to be 3:30 a.m. I feigned an urge for the bathroom, but she was still awake when I returned, so I gave up for the night. It was just too risky to check her phone.
I’d managed to grab the retinal scan. But I was all too aware that time was ticking by.
EIGHTEEN
In the morning, Hannah finally left to take a shower. As she headed out the door with her towel and caddy, I knew I’d only have minutes at most.
“See you in a few,” she said, shutting the door behind her.
I tried to zero in on the sound of her footsteps retreating down the hallway, but the music from next door blared too loud.
Remove audio interference?
Until this moment, I hadn’t realized that was an option.
Yes.
Instantly, the music muted, leaving behind normal sounds of life in the dorm. Sounds at decibels that wouldn’t cause hearing damage . . . if I actually had regular human ears.