Redemption Prep - Samuel Miller Page 0,42

the car suspended in midair long enough to consider what the end result may be; long enough to worry about the cost of the truck and the cost of the insurance before the front right bumper makes contact with frozen ground; long enough to worry about his wife and his neck after that. I feel the moment of stillness, after the car finally rocks to a stop. I feel the cold, dark side of the highway. I feel the other man, clinging to life in the cab of his truck. I feel the wreckage, the smell of twisted metal, and the screaming of chickens. The truck was carrying chickens, and now the truck is on its side and the chickens are spread out across the highway.

I can hear my mother, calling me because she has to. “There’s been an accident,” she says, as though it’s the twentieth time today she’s said it. “Your father nearly killed himself. He isn’t going to be able to move for a while. You’re on your own out there.”

And then I can feel nothing. I’m on my own out here.

There.

Done.

I’m not sure what that was supposed to accomplish, but I can feel it, all of it. I’m in the car, on my bed, in the ditch, in the truck, on my pillow, in the deeper reservoir of pain. I know this is the part of expanding that’s supposed to feel like contracting; the part of moving forward that’s supposed to feel like being dragged back into everything else. I know this is the part I’m supposed to master, to understand and choose to rise above.

I control my proximity. I know where I stand.

emma donahue investigation.

neesha shah—year 4.

transcription by MONKEY voice-to-text software.

YANIS (Administration) _ You didn’t see anyone near your room tonight.

NEESHA SHAH (Student) _ I wasn’t even near my room. I was in class.

Y _ At night.

NS _ It was a special session. We were testing an experiment we built in class.

Y _ Who knew you were in this class.

NS _ I don’t know. Everyone. All you have to do is look in the window.

Y _ Tell me about the message.

NS _ I think it’s pretty self explanatory.

Y _ Do you think they’re talking about Emma.

NS _ Who else would they be talking about.

Y _ And you don’t know anyone who would wish her harm.

NS _ No. Don’t you guys have cameras or something.

Y _ We do.

NS _ Did you see who did it.

Y _ A short person wearing a black jumper with a hood.

NS _ Where did they come from.

Y _ They entered the school from a blind spot. Outside the D2 common room. Went straight for your door and straight back out.

NS _ So it could be anybody.

Y _ That’s the problem yes. It could be anybody.

Aiden.

AIDEN SPENT THE next three days on high alert. Ever since their stakeout, he could feel himself being followed, watched, from under hoods, in corners of the school he couldn’t see. Twice, he’d tracked Peter down, in the Human Library, but Peter insisted the school was watching them and they were better off avoiding each other, so he took up the mantle of finding Emma on his own, studying the photo he’d taken and trying desperately to understand who they were, and what they wanted.

The only Apex he had left was a few pills that had clung to the bottom of his bag, so he rationed them, spilling them into twenty tiny piles in the corner of his desk and snorting one every two hours, as Peter had suggested.

He could already feel his last high wearing off as he stared out the massive window, watching as his classmates moved around the back lawn, circling each other in patterned chaos.

“Do you feel like you’re being seen?”

Aiden whipped his head around. Dr. Roux, his mentor, was staring down the barrel of his nose at him, his eyebrows crowding toward the center of his face.

“What? No. I mean, yes.” He shook his head, his brain rattling inside, trying to clear the cobwebs. He was in Dr. Roux’s office, in the P-School. It was his weekly assessment. It was Sunday afternoon. He was fine. “I’m fine. Why? I mean, what?”

“We’re talking about your performance in practice recently.” Dr. Roux cleared his throat. “You’ve described some frustration with your teammates and coaches, and I’m asking if you feel seen by them. Recognized? Understood?”

“Oh, um. I don’t know. I don’t know what they think.”

Dr. Roux noted it in the folder. “You understand your