It shouldn’t be that hard to think of a place, but it was. This was why there were always groups of kids wandering the streets after school, sitting on random stoops and hanging out on subway platforms and at bus stops or McDonald’s. With so many places all packed in so tight, that somehow left nowhere to go.

“Maybe we should go someplace crowded,” she said. “Crowded enough that no one will pay any attention to us.”

“Like where?” Eli asked.

“The mall’s too far away.” It was like a half hour by subway.

Eden checked her phone again. Still nothing.

The device shook inside the bag.

Eden and Eli exchanged a look. How would they ever figure out how to get rid of it—that was the only possible plan of action now—when the device was always watching at least one of them? When it had access to their phones?

Eden was the one to reach forward to open the bag and peek in.

The message said: Someone’s watching me.

Eden stiffened and looked around the room. The toddler boy was staring at her, and now he looked at the bag. She made sure the mom wasn’t looking—she was scrolling through something on her phone—so Eden made her eyes scary and wide, and the toddler kicked his feet in his stroller and rolled his head away and said, “Mama?”

His mother said, “What?” without looking up from her phone.

The message on the device changed to say, I want to see Marwan.

And something about the phrasing of that desire, so plain, made Eden ache.

Ilanka

ILANKA

Svetlana’s mother had texted Ilanka: She’s in bad shape. Will keep you updated.

But since then, she wasn’t answering her phone or responding to texts and Ilanka was hiding in her room to avoid further grilling from her parents.

Why had Ilanka gone outside anyway, they’d wanted to know.

Why had she not wanted to go to the movies, leaving Svetlana to walk off alone?

Her parents seemed to think the accident was Ilanka’s fault.

But for the wrong reasons.

She was so irritated by it all that she almost wanted to tell them the truth.

Except, well …

Now she knew what happened if you broke a rule.

She had considered telling a half truth—that Svetlana had been planning on ditching her to go meet a guy. But if Svetlana’s parents had her phone, which they probably did, they’d figure that out on their own—there would have been texts from the guy when she didn’t show up—and it seemed bad to rat out someone who was in a hospital bed in god-knows-what condition.

When her phone buzzed—I’m sorry—she was confused.

It was that strange number again, with characters and dingbats.

Who is this? she wrote.

The device.

DO NOT TEXT ME AGAIN!