here. I skimmed the patrons to see if there were any cops, but that was it. If we did have trouble, it would be too late.
Barclay nods. “Tomorrow, when we’re separated, analyze every situation you’re in. Always know who else is around you, who’s likely to be the biggest threat, what your escape route would be if you needed one.”
I nod. I’m not exactly looking forward to being anywhere without him right now.
“Think of it like a chess game.”
“Stay at least one step ahead of my opponent?” I ask with a smile. Even though it’s not funny.
“Absolutely,” Barclay says. “We have to win.”
I’m not as confident as he is, mostly because I wasn’t a very good chess player.
But also because this isn’t a game, and I have a lot to lose.
04:18:12:49
After we leave the diner, I follow Barclay to the subway. The sirens are off, and there are no helicopters or spotlights to worry about.
I look back. In the window, the pink lights that read HOT COFFEE flicker. For a moment, surrounded by coffee, Barclay, and the illusion of normalcy, I had felt almost calm, like I wasn’t wanted by IA or in a strange different world—like I wasn’t alone.
Then it hits me that this is it. I need to find Ben.
It’s not that he can bring me back from the dead and heal my scars, it’s not that he can hack into a computer system and change my class schedule, and it’s not even that he can kiss me breathless.
It’s that I want to go to another diner. I want to go inside, slide into an uncomfortable booth, grab a cup of bad coffee, and split a piece of pie. I want to watch the waitress flirt with the guy I’m with and then laugh about it when she leaves.
And I want that guy to be Ben.
I turn to Barclay. He’s got his hat on and his hands shoved in his pockets, and he hasn’t noticed yet that I’m not right behind him. I could probably add up the minutes we’ve been forced to spend together and it would be less than a full day, and here I’ve thrown my future and my life into his hands.
And right now, it’s possible that this moment is the one that says there’s no turning back—the one that changes everything forever.
Because I know exactly what I’m fighting for.
04:18:11:20
I keep close to Barclay as we walk underneath the bridge and past a row of bars and restaurants. The graffiti isn’t as bad, and neither is the smell, but I still wouldn’t want to be alone.
There’s a bodega on the corner and some store called Kings Superhero Supply, and Barclay turns down a dark and sleepy side street where there are rows of old townhouses. He leads me to the last building on the block, and I follow him around it to a side door.
“Whose house is this?” I ask when he reaches under the mat and grabs a key.
“Relax, Tenner.” Barclay chuckles as he slides the key into the back door. He jiggles it a little and the door pops open. “This is my mother’s old house. No one will be here.”
He holds the door open for me and I follow him inside.
The house looks lived in, but it’s quiet. In the living room, the tan rug is plush and soft and the light-blue couches look comfortable. There’s a flat-screen TV on one wall, like the one Barclay has in his apartment, and a row of bookshelves on another. I’m surprised by how normal it all seems. This is a house I could have grown up in.
I’m just about to sit down on one of the couches and rest my legs when I hear something. It sounds like the ceiling just creaked, the way it would if someone were upstairs.
I freeze and look at Barclay, who holds up one finger and signals for me to follow him. We move through the living room to the kitchen. Barclay grabs a stainless-steel pan from the counter and we crouch behind the island in the center of the kitchen. He holds the pan at an angle where we can see a distorted image of the stairs.
We’ll be able to see whoever it is before they come down.
We wait in silence, and I have a moment to wonder if we actually heard anything at all, when I spot something reflected in the pan. I see the sneakers and the black leggings first, and I’m sure it’s a