The period flies by with surprising speed. And when the bell rings, sending everyone else scrambling out of their seats, Henry and I are the last to leave.

In theory, it shouldn’t be difficult to delete a few photos from Jake Nguyen’s phone, especially when I have the element of surprise on my side.

In theory.

But after observing Jake over the next few days and tailing him whenever I turn invisible, it becomes clear that the guy basically carries his phone everywhere with him—in class, on the basketball court, even on his way to the bathroom—as if it’s his firstborn child or something. He’s like a parody of the tech-obsessed, easily distracted Gen Z kid; always scrolling through memes on Twitter or Moments on WeChat or photos of his friends’ new customized Nikes on Instagram. On numerous occasions, I’m tempted to just slap the phone right out of his hands and be done with it.

Soon, five whole days have passed and all I’ve gotten out of my invisible spying sessions is his iPhone passcode (which is literally just 1234) and the knowledge that Jake Nguyen secretly watches Sailor Moon in his spare time. To be honest, I’m not quite sure what to make of the latter.

What I do know, however, is that the longer this drags on, the greater the chances of Jake sending the photos out. And according to Rainie’s increasingly desperate messages, he’s threatening to do it very soon.

Then, early on Wednesday morning, as I’m getting ready for school, Henry calls me.

My hands freeze over my skirt zipper. I don’t know what’s weirder—the fact that he’s calling me, as if we’re still in the early 2000s, or the fact that it’s him.

“Hello?” I say, tentative, lifting the phone to my ear with my free hand. Part of me is convinced his number has been stolen.

Then his voice comes through the line, crisp and smooth as ever. “Alice. You busy?”

“No—well, I mean, I’m just getting dressed,” I say without thinking.

“Oh.” There’s an awkward pause. “Right.”

I quickly yank my zipper all the way up and sit down on the edge of my bed, my cheeks heating. “Wait, never mind. Forget I said that.” Across the room from me, Chanel is snoring softly. I press the phone closer to my ear. “So, um. What’s up? Why are you calling?”

“It’s about the latest task.”

For some reason, the first feeling that pools into my stomach is...disappointment. But of course it’s about the latest task. Why else would he be calling? “Go on.”

“Given how slow business has been, I’ve taken it upon myself to observe Jake’s movements around Mencius Hall these past few days—truly one of the lowest points in my life so far, I might add—and it seems there might be a small window of opportunity for you to delete those photos of his...”

I swallow my surprise. Out of courtesy, I’ve been keeping Henry updated on my progress—or, well, the lack thereof—ever since our first English class together, but I never expected him to go out of his way and gather information on his own. Part of me is grateful, obviously. Another part of me hates the fact that he’s spotted an opportunity before I did. It makes it feel like he’s winning, which is ridiculous.