Free Run Away by Laura Salters Page A

graze and a slobbery kiss, resulting in the tangling together of their clunky braces. But she was far too concerned with her reputation to admit that.
    After that incident, she and Aran went their separate ways, to different schools in different counties. Now it was time for a reconciliation.
    Aran Peters was an IT whiz, and not just in the quite-­good-­at-­making-­spreadsheets way that most school-­taught kids were. He was ruthless when it came to learning everything he could possibly know about computers. He’d mastered the basics by the end of primary school, and had a solid grasp of the most sophisticated systems in the country by the time most teenagers were discovering Bacardi. Once, he’d hacked into the school’s server and awarded everyone in their year a 100 percent grade in all of their mid-­semester exams. He was twelve then. Afterward he had bigger fish to fry. He compromised a national exam board and swapped what were meant to be AS level essay questions with replacements that a particularly slow Labradoodle would find easy.
    Kayla had no idea where Aran was now. He could be at university, possibly studying for his Ph.D. already, or he could be working in a top secret government facility specializing in homeland security, or something equally heroic. Either that or he’d gone down the route of digital mafia boss and currently had control over ninety-­nine percent of Western civilization. Knowing Aran, both were equally plausible scenarios.
    Eventually she found his school’s alumni website, where she came across an article on his resounding success at one of the best universities in the country. He’d completed a four-­year curriculum in eighteen months, achieving the highest marks ever recorded by an undergraduate Information Technology student. He’d be attending the same university again in September, to complete his Ph.D. at the ripe old age of twenty. Perfect.
    She clicked on the university’s website and browsed the list of staff, identifying the way in which their e-­mail addresses were composed: [email protected]. Assuming the students would have similar accounts, she started typing a message to the address [email protected].
    It was worth a try. Especially considering what was at stake.

 
    Chapter 10
    July 6, England
    K AYLA CHECKED HER e-­mails as soon as she woke up, one eye peeled opened as she stared at the glaring screen of her laptop. Nothing.
    She dropped her head back onto her pillow, allowing the laptop to slide into bed next to her. She’d been hoping for a faint glimmer of hope before midday—­she wasn’t exactly looking forward to meeting Kathy Kingfisher, Sam’s mother, for the first time. These things were awkward enough when the love interest was still alive.
    Realizing it was already ten-­thirty, Kayla rolled reluctantly out of bed, wrapping a fluffy white dressing gown around her and slipping her unsightly feet into a pair of matching slippers. Both garments had been stolen from a hotel in Dubai by her outraged mother, who was convinced the maid was stealing from the minibar and leaving them to foot the bill. To exact revenge, she’d pilfered not only the complimentary miniature cosmetics—­standard behavior in hotels—­but also the dressing gowns, slippers, and bath towels. The hotel had charged her through the teeth, and the excess baggage charges at the airport amounted to more than the original cost of the flights, but her mother had insisted that was beside the point.
    Kayla glanced into the mirror. Weren’t the bereaved meant to gaze upon their own reflections and declare that they no longer recognized themselves? Everything still looked to her as it always had. Her deep tan was fading, her waist-­length dark hair was as unruly as ever, and her generous breasts and rounded hips hadn’t shrunk in the slightest.
    Her interest in her appearance had almost completely evaporated. Still, she wanted to make a good impression