I almost give in. I almost think that I could belong in a warm, brightly lit room full of books with a girl that didn’t run away. I almost let myself believe that the worst is over, that this is fine. That she never has to learn more than she knows now. That I can have my cake and eat it too. That I can keep her in the dark about who my dad is and keep my dad in the dark about what I found out. That I can make it all work somehow. But she looks at me, relief in her eyes because I’m following her, and I stop. This is wrong.

This is really wrong.

“Peak, wait,” I say, and she turns around.

“What?” she asks, looking a little nervous behind her smile. The divot reappears on her forehead, and I want to smooth it away.

“My full name . . .”

“Is Ridley McDonough. I know, you told me.”

“McDonough is my mom’s last name. I use it when . . . sometimes,” I say, taking a deep breath.

“Okay?” And the divot is bigger, her face more worried.

“My legal name is Ridley Oliver Everlasting.”

She tilts her head. I can tell she’s trying to figure out where she’s heard it before. “Everlasting?” she asks, and then her eyes get wide. “Everlasting, like Everlasting Inc.? Like the family that owns The Geekery?”

I swallow hard and nod.

“Are you messing with me right now?”

“No.” It’s not a lie, but I wish it was. I wish they weren’t my family. I wish—

“What was all this, then?” she shouts. “A trick?”

“No. No! Please don’t think that.” I take a step toward her, but she pulls back.

“I thought people were paranoid after the Trinity Comics thing. But you guys really do have plants. And that’s what you are, right? A plant, a spy for your company?”

I nod again, not breaking eye contact. “But I’m not spying. I’m not really doing it. I swear.”

“Screw you,” she says, “whoever you are.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

BATS: I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Jubilee

“I’M GOING TO kill him,” Jayla says, and her screen gets blurry and starts cutting out just as she’s miming a stabbing motion, leaving her stuck with big eyes and her fist in the air.

Nikki giggles. “You’re freezing up, Jay.”

We’re in a group hangout on Skype. I texted everybody, begging for an emergency meet-up, but Jayla’s mom wouldn’t let her go out, because she missed curfew last night—thanks, Emily—and Nikki’s mom’s new home aide didn’t show, so she can’t leave either. Skype it is.