Page 107 of Shattered Veil

James 9:47 A.M.: Have to work late. Sorry.

James 9:48 A.M.: Come over another night.

Come over another night.

Come over another night?

I rotated my shoulders back as my spine straightened, but they did nothing to aid the tension that gathered in my muscles as I read it time and again.

Come. Over. Another. Night.

Not I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. Not even a perturbed I’m busy, Cas. See you at home tonight. The message insinuated that we weren’t currently sharing a living space…and I can’t say why—perhaps it was the strange, instinctual thrum in my veins—but I found myself focusing on the icon of his contact located just above our messages. My attention on the grey circle that had defaulted to his initials, JT, made me think back to James’ instructive explanation that he had given me. After tentatively using phrases such as, ‘I have a…request,’ along with, ‘I’m not saying I’d like it if you did, but you can say no,’ and, ‘This doesn’t mean that I don’t think you can take care of yourself,’ he had asked if I would share my phone’s location with him.

His light eyes were pleading, and upon considering the positives that would go along with him being able to see where I was at a moment’s notice, I obliged. Because I had never used the feature before, James had happily showed me the process by sharing his own cell’s location with me, simpering with a large grin that it was, ‘tit for tat,’ and I could now, ‘watch his every move,’ if I so desired.

I did the same now as I did then, tapping on the JT. Days ago, I had seen his contact information listed above a map, and the grey icon that signified James himself appeared as a single dot on the picture—exactly where I knew my house was located.

I didn’t see that now.

I didn’t see a map at all.

The contact information that I had anticipated was shown, but the rest of the page was blank—as if I had never been able to see his location in the first place.

I muttered, “What the fuck?”

“Okay, seriously,” Zoey pressed. “What’s up?”

My unease rapidly progressed from foolish to anticipatory anxiety, and I assumed that it was audible within my voice as I said:

“I—I’m ignoring you. I know. I’m sorry—just give me a—”

Zoey cut me off, rambling, “Yeah, that’s my point. You’re not the type to ignore, and not once have I seen you focus more on your phone than the people around you. I’m not offended. You look jittery as fuck, and considering everything, it’s making me jittery as fuck.” She leaned forward with purpose. “What’s up, Cassie?”

I took exactly two cleansing breaths, attempting to mentally assure myself that I was overreacting because…people get distracted. Texts can be misconstrued. Technology can be unreliable—and certainly that was why the little map with a grey JT was no longer appearing. The half of my internal monologue that was demanding me to be reasonable repeated those three sentences over and again.

But the dreadful sensation was nagging at me. The reality that we were living in where we were unsure of our collective safety—where we didn’t know answers—where we didn’t know who was a potential threat—had already fried my nerves. Anything outside of the usual status quo was beginning to make my hair stand on end. The nape of my neck prickled in such a way that I shivered, and Zoey ushered me:

“Cassie!”

“It’s…dumb,” I told her. “I’m just on edge.”

Her head cocked to the side in confusion. “Is it your friend?”

“Hmm?”

“Skylar?” she clarified.

“Oh,” I replied. “No, she said she’s still dealing with her family stuff—not even going to work.”

My words went quieter as I spoke. Zoey nodded though her concerned, questioning gaze remained, and a jolt ran through me as the mention of Skylar’s name reminded me of something I had said mere minutes ago:

Imagine if, God forbid, her phone gets in the wrong hands.

Without a further thought, I quickly refocused on my phone and typed:

Cassie 9:52 A.M.: I’ll stay at my place tonight, then?

James’ response would be telling. If he were perfectly fine and simply distracted, his typical anxiety would rear its head, and there could only be a few expected replies. One anticipated reaction would be an immediate phone call reminding me to stay at 2B or upstairs with Luke and Claire. The others were a variation of text messages along the lines of:

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