Her face hardens, and her eyes shift away. “I think it will be easier for you if you do.”
“Is that why you wanted to talk? To convince me to let it go?”
She taps her fingers on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. “No. I wanted to see whatyouwanted.” Slowly, her head turns back toward me, her eyes finding mine. “And if you still need my help.”
The blood drains from my face. “What?”
A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips. “Bravery can be infectious, Lila. And you’re braver than I realized, maybe even braver than I knew anyone could be. It will be easier to walk away, erase what you can, fix what you can’t. But since we met, you’ve never made any attempt to do what’s easy. I’m assuming you won’t this time, either.”
Something fierce ignites in my chest. “You want to help me?”
“If I can, yes.”
“We have the proof. Everything I sent you. And there’s more I’ve gotten since. We just…need a plan.” My eyes find the hotel. “What are we doing here, anyway?”
“I have class this afternoon, but I thought you might like to stay in town—somewhere safe—while we figure out our next move.” Her voice has an edge to it, and when I look back at her, there’s a stifled but mischievous grin on her lips. “Ralston Week isn’t over quite yet, is it?”
It isn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Professor Bell leaves me at the hotel with a promise that she’ll be in touch, and a warning that I should lie low until then.
I order my dinner under a fake name—I’m probably paranoid, but I can’t risk any of Ralston’s fans finding me—and when night falls, I barely sleep a wink. I lie awake listening to every footstep in the hall, every door that slams closed. As the hours pass, I’m less and less sure this isn’t all a setup somehow. I can’t stop wondering if there are new posters with my face on them, and if so, how many are now littering the campus. How many people will be on the lookout for me?
By the next morning, I’ve moved past anxiety into full-blown panic. My mind races with questions about whether I should reach out to Professor Bell.
It’s the day of Ralston’s award ceremony, and I can’t stop picturing her standing on that stage, smiling humbly, fake tears in her eyes. This time, she’ll be garnering sympathy on top of the love and appreciation. I’ll bet she’s thrilled.
It feels as if armies of ants are moving underneath my skin. I can’t get comfortable. Can’t sit still.
I wonder what story is being spun. About her. About me. About all the accusations and Professor Bell’s paper that was removed.
The HEAR US ROAR website is still up, and I haven’t heard from Ralston’s attorney yet, though there are still a few hours left on the twenty-four-hour countdown. She probably assumes it’ll be gone on time. I’m sure she can’t fathom that I’d defy her when faced with legal action.
Then again, maybe they’ll struggle to find me and serve anything else in my new hiding place.
When my phone buzzes, I jump from the bed.
Mom.
My heart sinks.
“Hello?” I try my hardest to sound normal.
“Honey?” Her voice is urgent and filled with panic. An image of Dad’s lifeless body fills my mind. “What’s going on?”
Relief. Then devastation.
She knows.
“What do you mean?”
“Theresa called me.” Mom’s neighbor. “She says your name is all over the internet. Says people are throwing a fit about some website. Someone says you created it. I think they’re impersonating you, honey. Have you been online?”
“Yeah. Yeah. I know. Look, it’s all going to be okay. It’s just kind of complicated, I?—”
