I scramble away, stumbling over my feet. As soon as I duck into the hallway, I rest my hands on my knees to catch my breath.
Nothing about what just happened makes sense. She attacked me yesterday, shoved me to the ground, kicked me black and blue. Why am I thinking about who she used to be?
I shake my head and continue down the hallway. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to get away from Emma and the memories of us.
I turn the corner and my focus is pulled back to my top priority. The door to Mrs. Humphrey’s room is propped open and as I walk by, it’s empty.
My head is swimming in overdrive, but this is my opportunity to get the answers to the test. Who knows if I’ll get another chance today, so despite my rattled brain, I checkover my shoulder. No one is around, and I step into the room.
I rush over to the file cabinet, pulling it open. I grab the fourth period binder and set it on the desk.
My breath is shaky and I’m on pins and needles, expecting someone to walk in any second.
I flip to the section Mallory told me she needed, scanning the questions to make sure it’s the right test. It seems to be covering the right information, and the answers are written in pen underneath.
I pat my pockets, searching for my phone so I can take a picture. It’s the easiest way to copy the answers without being noticed.
But I don’t have it.
14
EMMA
His lock screen is the basic default background: a stagnant and lackluster blue streak. Apparently, there’s nothing important enough in his life to keep front and center. Not even a random sunset from his last family vacation. Just an ugly blue stripe across his screen.
He really has changed.
There’s a six-digit passcode but nine numbers stare back at me. What would his password be now? I know what it used to be years ago. It was simple and silly. Just four sevens in a row because it was his favorite number. I guess back then it didn’t matter if someone figured it out since he didn’t have anything to hide. I try a bunch of sevens even though I know it won’t work, and it immediately buzzes, indicating it was the incorrect password. Three small words appear at the top of the screen.
Three attempts left.
I shouldn’t have wasted a whole guess on a password I knew would be wrong. What else could it be? It’s not like he was ever very sentimental, so I don’t think he’d pick a datethat reminds him of someone or something. Again, he has a default lock screen now, for heaven’s sake.
I chew on my lip, thinking about what other six numbers he’d use. I try his birth date.
Wrong.
Two attempts left.
I didn’t think this through. I should’ve waited until I saw him put in his password before stealing his phone. It wouldn’t have been that hard since he’s like every other teenager who picks up their phone at every notification. All I had to do was think ahead and be patient, but I’ve never been good at that.
I scratch my head. What does Myles like other than baseball? Is there some special baseball-related date he’d use as a password? Or maybe something to do with innings or home runs?
“Where did Myles go?” Ms. Simon asks, stepping into the room.
I jump, tucking the phone into my pocket because I don’t want her to call me out for not cleaning. “He went to the bathroom.”
She sits down at her desk. “I see. Well, the room already looks a lot better.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, hovering around the cleaning supplies when all I want to do is look at his phone again. “Actually, I could use the bathroom too.”
Ms. Simon checks the time on the clock and nods. “Try to hurry back. The lunch period is almost over.”
I jog out of the room, my eyes set on the bathroom around the corner. I keep my hand over the pocket where it bulges from the cellphone, patting it as I walk.
Movement in the corner of my eye pulls my attention to the room across the hall.
My steps slow when I see him.
