Free Trust Me by Romily Bernard

grew in the dark. It’s true though. I’m not shaking. My voice doesn’t break. I sound . . . fine. Even my stomach is unclenching.
    â€œInteresting that they found another,” Alex adds, leaning her head against the doorjamb. “I hadn’t heard about him.”
    â€œDo you always know if there’s a new person coming in?”
    â€œPretty much. Kent has to be prepared. You can’t spring stuff on him or he gets hostile.”
    I laugh. “This is Kent on good behavior?”
    â€œI know, right?” Alex retreats to her bed and gathers up all her homework, all her notes. She looks so young right now, closer to twelve than twenty. “Kent’s some sort of acode whisperer genius. He’s an utter asshole, but he does good work. And the work is what matters around here.”
    She sounds so final I don’t bother pressing it any further. I take a T-shirt and shorts from my dresser, moving mechanically through my evening routine. I shouldn’t push her. I shouldn’t—“So, if that’s a new guy, we’ll meet him tomorrow, right?”
    â€œRight.”
    Wrong. I spend the next three days doing schoolwork in the morning and puzzling through viruses in the afternoon. The bloated one keeps coming back. Every time I delete it, it returns. There are three versions waiting for me now, which is mildly interesting. Does it take over the host by flooding the server with so many requests it overloads them?
    I run another check and wait for Milo, who never shows. I try not to look for him, but my eyes keep straying to the glass doors and the hallway beyond them. He should be walking in any moment now, right?
    So why isn’t he? What does that mean?
    And where are they keeping him? Alex said we only have two floors, but the top floor is all work spaces and the bottom floor is bedrooms and common areas. You would hear him. Well, maybe not hear him, but you would see him.
    Wouldn’t you?
    Kent rolls his chair into my line of vision. “Do I need to give you more work?”
    My cheeks go nuclear, but I open my eyes very, very wide. “Why? Do you need help with yours?”
    Someone behind me sniggers. I think it’s Jake.
    Kent scowls. “Get back to work, Tate.”
    I face my computer and rub my eyes until colors explode behind the lids. I need to concentrate and yet all my Milo questions are stuck on repeat.
    I kick away from the desk and head for the bathrooms, ignoring Kent’s grumbles as I pass. The hallway is drenched in late-afternoon light. The setting sun slants shadows across the opposite building and I’m almost to the bathroom door when I realize I can see into that office space again.
    The Laser Microphone guy—the same one Alex and I saw in the opposite building a few days ago—is back.
    I lean one shoulder against the door and pretend to admire the wedge of sunset I can see between the buildings. I count windows to double-check myself, and yeah, that’s definitely the office I noticed on the night I arrived.
    And that’s definitely the same guy.
    This time though he just seems to be watching—staring really. I know he can’t see me, but as I turn for the bathroom his head tilts and I can’t shake the feeling that he’s studying me.
    It’s after dinner and after therapy and after probably everyone else has gone to bed and I can’t sleep because I can feel my hair growing.
    Six cups of coffee can do that to you.
    â€œI can’t lie here anymore.” I sit up, shoving my blankets to the foot of the bed. “Am I allowed to go to work?”
    â€œDon’t you listen to anything?” Alex’s voice is muffled by her comforter. I think she’s trying for pissy, but it makes me want to laugh. And then annoy her even more. “It’s not a prison. Do whatever you want, but do not bother me.”
    At the very end of Alex’s bed, something twitches under the blankets.