Free Locked by Eva Morgan

think everyone’ll forget about the photo if they’re convinced I’m your girlfriend.”
    “Correct.”
    “But I’m not your girlfriend.”
    “Should I write that on my forehead so you don’t have to worry I’ll forget? Maybe I’ll have it put on a T-shirt. Less likely to smudge in the shower.”
    I half-smile. My heart is still beating fast, but slower than before. “So how did you know all that stuff about August?”
    “Simple,” he says, obviously pleased that I asked. “He was wearing one of those military dog-tag style necklaces, but on closer inspection I saw that it was actually a dog tag. Ringo. The tag was bent and battered, like it’d been run over by something heavy. The porn one is always easy, just look to see if one of their forearms is more muscular than the other. The last one was obvious from the watch.”
    “The watch?” I hadn’t even noticed August had been wearing one.
    “Yes, the watch, what else? Expensive watch, very expensive. Obviously a gift. The inscription— For August , the date, and kisses . Clearly his mother—too expensive for a aunt or girlfriend and the father wouldn’t have put kisses . But she got the date of his birthday wrong. She put July, but he’s wearing a class ring with his birthstone and it’s not the ruby. It’s amethyst. January.”
    “That’s incredible.” I shake my head. “You really are an actual genius.”
    “You’re just now noticing?”
    “A humble genius.”
    “We don’t have time to discuss the finer points of my modesty. Now come with me.” Sherlock strides off down the hallway at top speed.
    I want to stop him. Ask him why someone like him would bother helping someone like me. Tell him I’m still reeling from it. But things with Sherlock always move too fast. “Where are we going in such a rush?”
    “We have to start investigating,” he yells back. “We’re going to find out who Ethan’s girlfriend is. Ex-girlfriend now, most likely.”
    “What for?”
    He turns around and cocks his brow.
    “Revenge, obviously.”
     

 
~5~
    “You have low standards for people liking you.”
    |||
     
    (scribbled on a page torn from a biology textbook)
     
    Irene asked why I care. Don’t “care.” Obviously. Caring = waste of time and distraction from all that is effective. To care = to cease to function correctly. Must explain to Irene. Helped her because I wanted to. Because she is a useful distraction to me. Because an event like this could intensify her depression. Not because I cared.
    Have significant problem, though: I like Irene. Or rather: I do not dislike her. Have never not disliked someone before. Have been making jokes for her. JOKES. Perilous situation. Must find a better distraction and cut this off. Will interfere with brainwork.
    Have theory about the truth behind who contacted Ares about Ethan Thomas. First, must uncover identity of Ethan’s ex-girlfriend. Simple matter. Should take less than five minutes once armed with list of Irene’s Facebook friends. Was not serious about revenge. (Mostly.) Want to see if I’m right about theory. Need ex-girlfriend’s name first. Always want to see if I’m right.
    Hope picture debacle isn’t having too strong an effect on Irene. Will check in with her later. Stronger than she thinks.
     
    |||
     
    It’s a strange kind of calm, knowing every single person at school has seen me naked.
    “You and Ethan Thomas have fifty-nine mutual friends,” Sherlock is saying. There’s finally a chair in his living room, and he’s sitting in it. A rusty lawn chair I stole from my basement. He’s bent over, typing so hard it’s like he’s playing a miniature version of Whack-A-Mole. “Twenty-nine of them are female.”
    “I don’t care.” I’m leaning against the wall, ordering a pizza online. Or trying to.
    “Twelve of them are potential candidates for our over-sharer.”
    “Sherlock, I don’t care.” I hover the mouse over the empty check box next to pepperoni . “Do you