The cell phone in my hand is dark and unmoving, but the vibrating continues, coming from somewhere within the room.

I peer at the door hesitantly.

Zoe would kill me—maybe literally—if she caught me snooping, but I can’t help my burning curiosity. Biting my lip, I gently pull on the handle of the top drawer of her nightstand, sliding it open.

At first, I don’t see anything besides a meticulously organized collection of notebooks, but after digging through it a bit, I find what I’m looking for, a phone lying face down at the bottom of the drawer. The buzzing stops.

Slowly, as if it might burn me once it connects with my skin, I flip it over.

Beneath the shattered screen, a photo of Scout stares back at me.

I exhale sharply, fingers trembling, before picking up the device. When I slide my thumb over the home button, it unlocks.

My head spins. I have the desperate urge to get out of the house as soon as possible. Why the fuck does Zoe have my phone? Sofia said nobody could find it, and here it is, lying in Zoe’s drawer.

I navigate through the messages but everything has been wiped. It seems she only forgot to change the wallpaper.

Abruptly, the doorknob to the bedroom twists, and I snap into action, tucking the phone into my bag and shoving the drawer shut. By the time the door opens, I’m back in my previous position on the bed.

Zoe steps inside, looking agitated. She glances at me before looking around the room, as though she can tell something is amiss.

“How’d it go?” I say, hoping my breathy tone makes my voice sound light, rather than nauseated.

“Great.” Zoe pauses, tension hanging in the air for a moment. “Are you ready?”

“Actually, I think I’ll head home now,” I say. “My head is pounding. I spent way too long trying to make sense of that textbook.”

“Oh,” she says. “Okay. I can drive you.”

“That’s all right,” I blurt, then force myself to calm down. I can’t let her know anything is wrong. “I feel like walking.”

She gestures to the window. “It’s raining.”

“I don’t mind.”

Before she can protest, I sling my backpack over my shoulder, call out a good-bye, and brush past her on legs that feel like they’ll give out at any moment.

15 | Wreck

I’m standing in the living room of Iris Wen’s house.

For once, I notice that no one is looking at me. The music is too loud, and the bass reverberates in my skull as I push my way through sweaty bodies, disoriented. I don’t want to be here. I try to make my way to the front door and escape into the wintry night air, but every time I get close, the room seems to shift, and I’m farther away than I was before.