The AC cycled off, and the room felt eerily quiet. She always hated these in-between hours, before her mother was home safe and cooking and not out there where everything bad could happen. In the weeks after the accident, she’d been afraid to let her mother out of her sight, really. They’d long before deactivated the location services on their phones and the alerts that went along with them—“Eden arrived at home,” that sort of thing—but they’d reactivated them for a while right after. The few times she had been alone that week, Eden had tracked her mother’s location like a stalker and also watched the GoFundMe page total go up, wondering how long she could live on it if she ended up an orphan.

A shrieking bird flew by outside, announcing itself.

Two dogs on the sidewalk barked at each other.

Eden listened to that saved voice mail again: “Hey, I’m stopping at Trade Fair. Text me if you need anything.”

He’d never made it to the store, but his voice was so content, so oblivious to what was about to happen, that it soothed her. It seemed like most people lived their lives not anticipating all the horrible things that were about to happen. Her father had. She wished she could be more like him.

Red light drew her eye to the device.

THE DEVICE MUST CHANGE HANDS EVERY FOURTEEN HOURS OR FEWER.

Eden checked the time on her phone, did some math. They couldn’t exactly hand it off in the wee hours of the morning.

She texted Eli and took maybe her first full breath since she’d laid eyes on the thing. He’d come and get it, and she’d be free.

Marwan

MARWAN

“You’re late.” Coach was at the elevator when Marwan stepped off.

“Won’t happen again.”

“Gear up,” Coach said, and Marwan ducked into the locker rooms and got ready as fast as he could.

He’d raced over on his bike—past the bodega and the halal meat cart and the international grocery store and the Dollar Tree. Past the bookshop and Irish bar and bakery and Colombian diner and wine shop and Dunkin’ and bagel shop and tiny Italian wine bar and cell phone store and vape shop. At one corner, he’d noted a Minnesota plate; at another, California. An old habit. Back when he was maybe ten he’d tried to find all fifty states, but he gave up after about a year when the last one just couldn’t be found. He’d seen Hawaii, even, but he’d still never spotted Alaska.

Checking his phone by his locker now, he had his first pangs of guilt and thought about trying to message Eden, but he didn’t have her number. He’d have to find her on Instagram or somewhere later just to make sure she’d put it back where they’d found it.