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"Goodnight, Alex."

I closed the door and stood in the quiet apartment. His chair was still pushed back from the table at the angle he'd left it.

My heart was still going. I'd spent a week trying to get that kiss out of my head, and now I knew it was never going to leave.

CHAPTER 8

Viral

JANINE

Most people think 911 is all emergencies. Not quite.

"My fish is broken."

"Okay, sweetheart. Can you tell me what's happening with your fish?"

"He's upside down. He's not swimming. I think he's broken."

"Is your mom or dad home?"

"Mommy's in the shower."

"Can you go get her for me?"

His mom came on the line apologizing. I told her it was fine, he did the right thing calling when he was scared. We both knew the fish was dead. The four-year-old did not.

"I need to report a restaurant. There is a live insect in my pad thai."

"Ma'am, 911 is for emergencies. I can give you the number for the health department."

"It's moving. It's moving right now. It is walking across a noodle."

"I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am."

I transferred her to the non-emergency line.

Between those calls and the real ones, a shift fills up fast. Medical assists, fire alarms that turn out to be cooking smoke, a carbon monoxide detector that turns out to be a low battery. All of them need a steady voice telling them help is coming, or that their goldfish lived a good life.

At 2:47 p.m., another silent call came in.

I followed protocol. Identified myself, asked if someone needed help. The line was open but nobody spoke. I listened for background noise the way I always did on these. Something was there, faint, like a television in another room, but nothing I could work with.

"If you can hear me, I'm here. You don't have to say anything."

The line held for a few seconds. Then it dropped.

Different number from the one I'd logged a few weeks ago. I called it back, got no answer, left the standard voicemail. Logged the number and moved on.

I finished the shift and headed for the break room.

Dara was already at the lockers, scrolling her phone. She looked up when I walked in.

"Janine." She turned the screen toward me. "Is this you?"

The video was shaky, filmed from an audience seat in a school auditorium. There I was in a prom dress and a plastic tiara, standing on stage next to Alex Holloway in full turnout gear. He kissed me, and on the video you could see it. My hand on his arm. His hand on my face. Neither of us pulling back while the crowd cheered. It had been shared forty-seven times.

My face was on the internet.