Lambert didn’t seem to know what to do with this information. “The janitor said it was the second time he got a message from Mr. M about opening a window that kept getting stuck in the music room. But he said the window wasn’t stuck. You know anything about that?”

They all silently shook their heads.

Lambert picked up a pen and tapped it three times, then put it down again. “You told me last week that you weren’t even friends. Barely knew each other, you said.”

Eden said, “Things change.”

His gaze landed on each of them in turn. “And that’s it?”

All four nodded.

Marwan

MARWAN

It was weird to have a new appreciation for something you already loved. But being back at soccer after school—with the device no longer in play—felt amazing. He felt loose, limber, light. Able to make connections that might have seemed tricky before. Drill after drill, he grew more focused, more sure.

“You’re looking good today,” his coach said during a water break. “What’s going on?”

“Just happy to be alive,” Marwan said with a smile. It came out as a joke—his intention—even though it was true.

It wasn’t the kind of thing people normally said to each other, even though they should. Maybe conversation-starter games weren’t so dumb after all. Maybe one day he and Eden would play one for real.

Coach said, “Your friend came by. She said you didn’t post that photo. So I apologize for not listening to you when you told me as much.”

Marwan nodded. “It’s okay.”

He loved her for doing that but hated that she’d found that out. Had the device told her—or wait, she followed him. Had it turned up in her feed before he’d deleted it? He hadn’t considered that possibility.

Coach said, “There’s still time for me to move some people around if I feel it’ll strengthen the team.”

“Then I’d better get back to work,” Marwan said.

The past few days now felt dreamlike. Like had they really thought, even for a second, when they stood there in the shadowy toxic marshlands of Queens, that their life depended on destroying a small black box? Had they thought, at one point, that it was a bomb?

They had.

And if it felt real, then it was real. Wasn’t that how it worked?

He thought he finally knew why he hadn’t asked Eden how she was doing when he saw her back in school after the accident. It hadn’t been just because he didn’t know her well enough; it had been because it was a dumb question—the kind you wish you knew the answer to without having to ask. But life was full of questions like that.

Do you like me?

Will you let me kiss you?

When it’s time, Dad, will you let me go?