Page 59 of Conner's Luna

He has insomnia, so I let him sleep when he can. I try to be a quiet as possible as I walk upstairs to take a quick shower. It's hair-washing night, so it takes me a while, and when I'm finally done tying my hair into its soft curlers, night has fallen.

This has been a bad day. And bad days deserve ice cream. Ice cream is good for you if you smother a banana with it. It's proven science. Bananas are fruit, and ice cream is a dairy product—two food groups in one. If I add some nuts, then I get my protein.

I'm a genius.

Taking out my phone, I deliberately ignore the text messages from the Bad Boys of Colorado State University and answer all the messages and chats from my friends in Durham.

My high school friends are drifting away from me, off to colleges and universities near and far. They're probably making all sorts of new friends and going to college parties where they don't get tripped walking down the stairs or have punch spilled on them by mean girls. It's natural to drift apart, but I thought I was going to be the same, having fun growing up.

I stand up and grab a bigger spoon. This is an emergency.

I also grab my old-new MacBook and flip open the browser. I hesitate only a moment before searching for Caluna. It can't hurt, right?

I select the University's webpage, silently applauding that as a university, it will have more course offerings.

My MacBook blinks. I don't think I would have noticed it, but my eyes had been drawn to the photo on the homepage. It's a red brick building with a white cupola on top. The photographer caught a flock of pigeons midflight taking off from the top of the cupola. One of the bird's wings vanishes then reappears in the blink of an eye.

My fingers pause, hovered over the screen tab labeled 'Academics.' What was that flash? My mind, which I admit sometimes works too quickly, immediately screams at me; virus.

Taking a deep breath, I open a new tab and search for a different university. I go to the homepage, and the screen blinks again.

I'm being hacked. My blood runs ice cold and the shiver that wracks my body ruins my ice cream for me.

Carefully, I ease the laptop shut, not bothering to sign out or close any tabs, first. I go grab my backpack with the new-new MacBook, and open that one, too.

It's the same, the same flicker, the same quick flash indicating that information is being stolen and downloaded... somewhere.

I check my running programs and see one that doesn't belong, but when I try to delete it, nothing happens.

I'm not that good with computers, but my friend from Durham, Jared, is. I pull out my phone to shoot him a quick text, but almost immediately change my mind. What if my phone is hacked?

Bile churns. Conner and Braxton gave me these MacBooks. The laptops are always in my backpack or my house. No one could have done it at school, so it makes sense that my new friends are the ones who downloaded the software on my computer.

So, either they're hacking into my computer, or someone else broke into the house. For a moment, I don't know which idea bothers me more, but then I realize that it's just Dad and me here, and an image flashes through my mind. My car, tagged and ruined on the same day I got it back. Then, that wolf...

My little hairs are prickling. I stand up, easing out of the kitchen, before I scurry around the house, making sure everything is locked. My phone is still gripped tight in my hand, and indecision scores me.

I can't call Jared, what if my phone is bugged? My car is gone, so I can't drive to Durham. "Ha!" I make an abrupt laughing noise and cut it off as it echoes in the silent house. I let Conner take my car, dang it. I'm cut off from my friends, and my only family is sleeping peacefully in the living room, exhausted from working so much overtime.

My heart is pounding as I stare out of my kitchen window to the woods in the back. I shut off all the lights and return to the window, just looking outside. I feel like a firefly trapped in the jar, my lonely light a sad reflection of the stars, so remote in the sky. I thought I was going to be one of the stars, brilliant and fascinating. Instead, I'm a bug in a glass.

When I see the dark shadow move under the trees I feel my heart skip a beat.

The wolf.

I back away from the window as a howl splits the calm night in two. I choke back the very girlie whimper caught in my throat. "Dad?" I call out.

He doesn't respond. I run into the living room and shake him. He stirs, mumbling, but doesn't wake up. His breathing drops back into a steady, calm snore as soon as I let go of his shoulder.

I shouldn't have texted him that I was spending the evening with my friends. He must have taken one of his sleeping pills, thinking that I wasn't going to be home. There's no waking him up now. He'll sleep like the dead for hours.

Another howl resonates through my brain. How can I hear it all so clearly when they're outside? My little hairs are prickling and my head is starting to pound.

I press my palms to my eyes. I won't call Conner right after our fight... or whatever it was. I'm afraid to reach out with my laptop or phone. I'll sound like a nutcase calling 911. They probably have a ton of wolves this close to the national forest.

"OK, Bailey," I say out loud. "Your paranoia is sky-high and it's affecting your decision-making." Then I gasp. What if the house is bugged? They could be listening to me right now.

"I should check for listening devices," I whisper. I almost cry when I realize I said it out loud.

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