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Though I end up getting to the clinic on time after all, I spend the entirety of my volunteer shift completely distracted. Dr. Monaghan, the vet, hasn’t said anything about it, but I can tell she’s starting to get frustrated. I guess the problem is that I just can’t get over how different the twins are. --------------------“I’m Sebastien, by the way, but you can just call me Bas,” the nicer one told me as he served breakfast. “I’m so sorry about last night. Everything happened so quickly that I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself.” Looking back, I realise that what he said was a bit strange. Everything happened so quickly? We’d spent a good five minutes together on a speeding motorcycle! Everything only happened so quickly because At the time, however, I was so charmed that I could only say, “No, no, please don’t apologise. You’ve already done so much.” I gestured awkwardly in the direction I thought downtown might have been. “You know, back at The Caspian. Thank you.” Emer
I back immediately out of the conversation with this strange, unknown number, feeling as if my soul has left my body. Not three seconds later, however, I tap back into it to reread the message: I’ve got your USB stick. Nope. It’s definitely real. I lock my phone and set it on the table, sitting down in a daze. Someone has my thumb drive. Is it that redhead after all? Is he going to blackmail me? I have your data so let me drive you home or I’ll tell everyone about it. I almost laugh at the absurdity. If someone had it, if they saw and understood what was in it, they wouldn’t try anything so benign as blackmailing. Bzzt. I stare at my phone. Bzzt. I pick it up. Two notifications from the same unknown number as before. I unlock my screen just as another notification pops up. I navigate into the conversation and physically feel the adrenaline leave my bloodstream as I read through the messages. Cecilia? Do I have the right number? It’s Bas, by the way I found this near our po
I must have had my phone volume too loud, because Sebastien offers to give me a ride to campus immediately after I agree to go.The idea of going on the motorcycle again is scary, but I nod. Callie sounded pretty panicked, and I’d feel awful if I got there too late to help. It takes all of seven minutes for Sebastien and I to get to campus, and it’s mainly because Sebastien speeds. “I don’t know how I didn’t notice last night,” I gasp after Sebastien helps me down from the seat. “I must have noticed, then blocked it all out for the trauma.” He doesn’t look at me, instead opening up the storage space beneath the seat of the motorcycle. “Notice what?” he asks. “What do you mean, ‘Notice what?’?” I exclaim. “You were going twenty miles over the speed limit!” He grins, handing me my book bag. “Shh, don’t worry about it. It’s an emergency!” I sling the bag over my shoulder and peer through the fence to where the football and cheer teams seem to have gathered. There are several footbal
“…disproportionately along the following hiking trails: Bethelbury Falls, Katoma Ridge South, Marlborough Hills…” I tune out the voice for a bit so I can double check the data points that I’ve been entering. Most of the listed hiking trails are way west of where I live, so I should still be safe biking to the bus stop. For now. This true crime podcast that I’m listening to isn’t a very good one. They’ve tracked down all the data about missing persons for the local hiking trails and made some interesting observations, but they don’t seem to have an answer for it at all. The podcaster is a local, though, and just a high school student at that. I guess I shouldn’t expect too much from him—not like he can do a proper investigation. “But what’s even more strange, dear listeners, is the time of last contact. Now, there is reliable data about the last known locations of just over half of our victims. Usually, this information comes from cell phone texts or other forms of digital communica
“Glenn, right?” I ask.He nods eagerly. “I’m surprised you know my name. I don’t think we’ve been officially introduced yet.”“Callie mentioned the names of everyone injured,” I say, even though the real reason I remember his name is because I eavesdropped on him talking to Emeric and Luke on Saturday. “Speaking of, how’s the nose doing?”His hand jerks up as if to touch his nose, but he thinks better of it before he makes contact. “Not bad,” he says. “No more swelling, but it hurts when I smile too much. I know you said to see a proper doctor about it, but I really don’t think I’ll need to. You did a good job setting it!”“Thank you,” I say for lack of a better response. A broken nose really doesn’t need professional medical attention that badly, not if it’s set correctly and doesn’t hurt too much.“Do you come to feed them often?” he asks.It takes me a moment before I realise that he’s talking about the stray cats around here, but then I reach into my bag and show him the kibble I
Glenn stares at Sebastien for a moment, looking strangely at his clothes.I’ve mentioned before, but Emeric dresses in a fairly low-key style (though from what I’ve heard the cheerleaders say, his clothes are very much not cheap). Sebastien, however, does not.He’s not in a biker’s leather jacket today, but he’s still wearing leather all right. It’s been stained a dark red, and it’s cut like some sort of a trench coat. It’s not as blatantly counterculture as it could be, I guess. Maybe I could see Emeric wearing it—if I were drunk and concussed, that is.This whole time, Sebastien hasn’t looked at Glenn once, our gazes locked in an endless contest.“Dude,” Glenn tries again. “Didn’t you say that you didn’t—I mean, didn’t you tell me to go ahead and ask? I thought you weren’t going to interfere!”Yup. He definitely thinks Sebastien is Emeric.For his part, Sebastien just rolls his eyes. “Of course you think I’m him,” he says, which sadly doesn’t seem to clear things up for Glenn at all
Of course Sebastien has taken me to La Lune Bleue. It’s a rising star in the culinary world, I hear. Only this summer did it get rated three stars by the Michelin Guide. The resulting business boom was so big that it ended up making an expansion in order to keep up with demand. Even still, the waitlist lasts months. Somehow, though, Sebastien has managed to get a reservation at half past seven—the absolute height of dinnertime rush—with only a two-day notice. Half an hour ago, I’d have said that was impossible. “I’d have worn something nicer if I’d known we were coming here,” I say, fussing. I’d dressed up a little today, of course—dress pants and a nice blouse that, in combination, manages to make me look barely of age. I even pulled out the single pair of high heels I own and changed into them in time for Sebastien to pick me up. “You’re perfect,” Sebastien reassures. “Do you mind if I go park the bike? I’ll just be one moment. Tell the girl at the door you’re here for the Thorn
Campus is packed with cars, enough that Sebastien doesn’t even bother looking around for a spot. He turns into a restricted floor of the parking garage and parks his bike directly behind an expensive-looking car. “It’s Emeric’s, so no harm, no foul,” Sebastien explains. “We’ll be long gone by the time he’s done debriefing and cleaning up. I’ve still got to take you to The Caspian afterwards, no?” After I got home Thursday night, I actually cancelled my shift tonight at the restaurant. I hesitate to tell him though, not wanting to sound presumptuous. Instead, I watch as he parks his bike and takes off his own helmet. He’d last lent me his own helmet on Saturday, when he’d given me an impromptu ride to campus. When he showed up for dinner on Thursday, he already had a second, smaller helmet at the ready. I feel warm inside when I consider that he must have gotten it just for me. “I no longer have a shift tonight, actually.” He looks at me, eyes dark and pale all at once, like storm