At first, I thought it was the title of a song or an album I didn’t know, but the only tracks that popped up after a quick search on Spotify were heavy metal or didn’t vibe with the theme. I uploaded a new track to give me time to respond and clarify the request, but before I could send a reply, another message popped up on my screen.
This time you won’t get away
I felt a shiver down my spine, and I glanced over at the window to see if Ace was still outside. I’d had some uncomfortable messages over the years, mostly sexual or suggestive, a few threatening enough that Noah, the previous station manager, had contacted the campus police. Of course, they couldn’t do anything, because they couldn’t trace the messages, and after a fewdays they would close their file. Over time, I’d become numb to the invitations and suggestive comments, but this was different.
This timemeant there had been another time, which had to be the incident on Michigan Avenue.
Should I tell Ace? The obvious answer was yes. He was there to protect me, but how could he protect me from something that couldn’t be traced? They were just words, and maybe I was wrong and the message didn’t have to do with the kidnapping attempt. Ace also tended to overreact, and he would likely demand that we go home right away. He might even insist that I stay there or go to a safe house where I couldn’t see Paige and I wouldn’t be going to college at all.
My brain got stuck in that track and wouldn’t let go, muffling the logical part of my mind that said this was panic talking and I just needed to take a breath and talk to Ace. I didn’t want to fall behind in my classes, or miss work, or let down the clubs I’d joined to meet people and keep busy on campus. There was recycling that needed to be picked up with my environmental group. I was going to try some new fencing techniques, and my music group was planning a big event in a few weeks, and I had to rehearse. I didn’t want whoever was behind the messages to think they could control my life. I’d tell Ace later, maybe when we were at home, maybe not at all if it didn’t happen again. The show had to go on and all that jazz.
Resolved to put the messages behind me, I muted the request line, played my final tracks, and took a few deep, calming breaths before I joined Ace in the hallway. He took one look at me and scowled.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” I forced a smile for Chad, who was waiting to get into the studio for his show. “Hey, Chad. What’s up?”
“You’re not looking so good,” Chad said. “You’re kind of pale, and your eyes are huge. Did you catch that bug Theo had? He’s been hogging the toilet for two days.”
“I was having issues with the mic, and it threw me off. You know what it’s like.”
Chad nodded. “I heard last week Derek had to change his mic out in the middle of the show. Dante said he was going to order new ones. I guess they haven’t arrived yet.”
“I’ll ask him about it the next time I see him.” I walked quickly down the hallway, forcing Ace to almost jog to keep up.
“What’s going on?” Ace reached ahead to pull open the door. His arm brushed my shoulder, and that brief moment of contact soothed the anxiety that had my heart pounding in my chest.
“I told you. Nothing.” I jogged up the stairs so fast, Ace had to take them two at a time to keep up.
“Is it Chad? Did he say something? Did he hurt you? Is he harassing you?” Of course he wouldn’t let it go, and he was overreacting just as I’d suspected he would.
“No, of course not. Chad’s a good guy.”
I pushed open the door to the main floor of the student center, and Ace put a hand on my shoulder, holding me back so he could assess the area before we were fully in the open. I took the moment to make my own sweep of the area, the students lined up for fast food, the cafeteria-style tables bustling with activity, and the small shops selling spirit wear and school supplies. No suspicious people lurking around. My chest rose and fell with my breaths. I was momentarily overwhelmed with the need to hold his hand for the simple comfort of his touch, but I managed to push the feeling away and follow him through the door.
Was it real? Was I truly in danger? Was there a connection between the incident on Michigan Avenue and the threats my mother had received? What would Ace do if I told him? It was too much to process, so I tried not to process at all.
We walked out into the overcast day, and I shivered as a cool breeze licked my skin. I tried to think about cozy fires and winter sweaters and my upcoming tests, and didn’t realize I’d forgottento tell Ace about the change of classroom until he grabbed my shoulder, pulling me to a stop.
“Where are you going?”
“There was a flood in the building. The lecture was just moved to an auditorium in the arts center.”
He gave an irritated growl. “You need to give me some warning of any changes in the schedule.”
“I literally just got the message.” I held up my phone. “I’m not trying to hide anything from you or sneak away. But just to be clear, if I did want to run away, you’d never catch me. I’m skilled at subterfuge.”
He glanced over at me, amused. “Is that right?”
“You and Matt saw to that. I had a life to live that didn’t involve staying in my room playing Barbies like a good little girl. I couldn’t have the two of you interfering all the time.” I fell easily into the conversation, grateful for the distraction.
Another growl. A frown. “I don’t think I want to know what trouble you got up to.”
“And I don’t think I want to tell you.”
We made our way to the new classroom, and I went to sit beside Aditi in the middle row of seats, instead of sitting at the back like usual where Ace could hover like a mother hen. He followed me down and took a seat on my other side, putting his body between me and the aisle.
Safe.