Redemption Prep - Samuel Miller Page 0,64

shit. She probably only even wanted to sell it so I’d focus on something else for a change, but I never . . .”

She read the entry again. out into the world, 2 find my place.

“You never what?”

Neesha stood, dropping the journal on the bed and floating to the door, pulling it open to see the front. The school had sent a maintenance worker to scrub off the Magic Marker, but a faint outline remained, faded against the metallic blue door. she’s going 2 die.

Not to die. 2.

“What are you doing?” Zaza asked, following her out.

Neesha stared into it, finally seeing what had been right in front of her all along. The branches, the threatening message on her door, the final entry in the journal. It was a simple code, a binary. “1” was yes, “2” was no. “1” was good, “2” was bad. “1” was safe, “2” was—

“Evan was right,” Neesha said, gripping the door to keep her balance. “She’s still here. Emma never left.”

Evan.

HE LAY IN bed, focusing on his eyelids. They popped open every forty to sixty seconds, and the harder he concentrated on keeping them shut, the worse it got. He pictured Emma, heard her reading, “eternally, endlessly,” his breathing started to even out, “you tried to make a place for me.” It had been at least two minutes, or maybe three minutes, they were naturally closed now, he could feel himself drifting—

The electric fence snapped. His eyes shot open.

He needed to rest. It had been seventy-two, ninety-something, a hundred and twenty hours since he’d slept. He’d logged at least twelve more hours in a sleeping position, but inside his immobile body, his brain still whirled.

She hadn’t escaped. She wasn’t at home. The only reason the school would make an announcement like that was if they wanted people to stop looking. Whoever had her was moving into their endgame.

He could hear other students outside partying. The game had ended two hours ago but enough Years Ones had tried alcohol for the first time tonight that no one was going to sleep. Even the professors were still awake and celebrating. He could hear kids laughing like there was nothing wrong. Like they weren’t stuck here. Like something wasn’t coming for them.

No one was even talking about the fence anymore. No one took it seriously. Other students heard, and they assumed it was exaggerated. Some plebe in his Compassion Lab said he’d seen it before and it wasn’t that bad. And Neesha seemed to want to pretend that it had never happened, and that Evan didn’t exist.

Even more ignorantly, everyone believed the school about Emma. They believed she just walked away, somehow got past the fence, and was sitting at home in Kansas. Without ever telling any of them she was going to leave. Without even packing a single thing.

He heard a door slam across the hall and clutched his blanket above him tighter. Sleep wasn’t coming. His brain wouldn’t stop. He shot out of bed and threw on a black hoodie.

S5—Rationale, S5—Rationale, S5—Rationale; he could feel his S4—Emotions about Neesha and the school getting the best of him; he was losing control of the S8—Consequences of reckless behavior. He needed to control his actions, but how could he when nothing he was doing was having any effect on the world around him. Something was causing the system to break down. What was causing the system to break down?

He went straight to Dr. Richardson’s office and slammed on the door with his open palm. Nothing happened. He tried again, harder and faster, his hand starting to glow hot with pain. He hit it harder, again and again and again, but there was no sound behind the door. He glared down at the keypad. With a deep breath, he punched in the code he’d seen Dr. Richardson enter twice. The perimeter glowed green.

The smell of her room rushed out first. He took a few steps inside, but the room wasn’t empty. Dr. Richardson scurried back behind her desk from somewhere on the right side of the room. “Evan!” she almost screamed. “How did you get in here?”

He took another step into the room and froze. Eddy was sitting in the chair in front of the desk. He didn’t turn around.

“I need to talk to you,” Evan said.

Dr. Richardson glared. “We’re in the middle of a session. How would you feel if someone barged in on the middle of one of our sessions?”

Evan stared at the back of Eddy’s head.