Page 85 of The Narrow

“WHAT DID WE SAY? NO PDA IN THE COMMON AREAS,” Ruth hollers from her room.

“Sorry, Mom,” Veronica calls back.

Remi chuckles, blushing, and gives me an embarrassed wave. “Hey, Eden. Good to see you,” he says.

“You, too. Um, Veronica? I need to borrow your laptop,” I say, bouncing on the balls of my feet.

“You have your own,” Veronica says, a fine line between her brows.

“I’ll explain later, but I really need to use your AtChat account,” I say.

“Technically, that’s against school policy. It’s in the handbook,” Remi points out.

“So’s the bottle of scotch hidden behind your headboard,” Veronica shoots back. “Go ahead. Password is the same as always.”

“You need to start taking your cybersecurity more seriously,” Remi scolds her.

“Sweetheart, if you start talking to me about bits and bots and technobabble, I am never going to make out with you again,” she says with a throaty rasp to her voice, sliding into his lap once more.

I leave them to it, too anxious to be amused. I duck into Veronica’s room and log in. A minute later, I have her private journal on her AtChat account pulled up. I open a new entry and type.

I don’t know if you’re reading this, but it was the only thing I could think of. I need to see you. There are things I need to tell you.

The security system on Abigail House is FellTech. I thought you might have your mom’s log-in or be able to use Jane’s somehow and let me in.

I sit there, waiting, not sure if Del is reading or if she has a way to message me back. But then a message pops into Veronica’s inbox. It’s an admin alert—a canned response to reporting a technical issue. But when I open it, there’s a second message tucked below the first.

Mom’s going into town tomorrow around noon. I can get her phone and put in a new profile for the security system with the old code. I don’t think she’ll notice. She doesn’t really know how the app works.

I sit back, relief washing through me, and rub my hands over my face.

I need to see Del again. Not just because of what I need to tell her—after what happened with Maeve, I need Del’s touch. Her presence.

I delete the text of the private journal entry. Then I delete the admin message and log out. Hopefully, even if Oster thinks to check my profile, he won’t go snooping around Veronica’s.

Now there’s nothing to do but wait.

—

I have to skip class to get to Abigail House at the appointed hour. I’m finding it harder and harder to care about school. Grades and classes and college admissions seem unimportant next to Del and Grace and Maeve.

I approach the house slowly, scanning the drive for Madelyn’s car. But there’s no sign of her, and the house’s isolation works in my favor, the screen of hedges and trees hiding me from casual observation.

I try not to look up at the camera as I step onto the porch. If Madelyn is watching, I’m screwed anyway, but I still try to look like I’m supposed to be here as I put in the code.

The light flashes red. My heart drops. Did Del not put in the new code? Maybe she couldn’t get her mom’s phone.

Or maybe I put the code in wrong, I scold myself, and try again.

The light flashes green. I dart inside. One obstacle down.

Even knowing Madelyn isn’t there, I creep quietly from the foyer into the hall, like I have to sneak past her door. Del is already at the bottom of the stairs, watching me from the other side of the glass.

I cross the distance between us quickly, and she raises her hand to the glass. I rest mine on the other side, matching the spread of her fingers, and let out a laugh of agony and relief.

“Hey,” she says, her voice shaky. “I didn’t know if you were coming back.”

“Of course I came,” I say. She curls her fingers against the glass. “Can I come up?”

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