Текст книги "Stalk Me"

Автор книги: Jillian Dodd

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

“A year! Are you nuts!?” But then my eyes dance across the photo of the girls, and I know they won’t be safe if I’m with them.

Mom sucks in a loud breath. I can tell she’s getting ready to protest.

“No. He’s right. You’ve got to think about the girls, Mom. I want them to be safe.”

“What if she went to live with her grandfather in Texas?” Mom asks.

“Too easy to trace,” James says.

“What about France? She could live in our house there? Go to school? He didn’t try anything this summer when she was gone.”

“He knows about France,” I say, just as James says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea either.”

Damian speaks up. “What about boarding school?” He turns to his dad. “The school where Trent’s older brother went. Aren’t you friends with the dean?”

“Son, you're brilliant,” Mr. Moran says. “It's perfect. Highly secure. The Secretary of State’s kids went there a few years ago, so the Secret Service installed fencing around the perimeter. There’s a guard booth, single access entry, and perimeter cameras.”

“It sounds like a prison,” I mutter.

“It was designed to keep terrorists out. Inside, you can't tell. It's a beautiful campus. The dean was in a bind a few years ago that I helped him out of. It's very difficult to get accepted, but I'm sure he'd make an exception. He owes me.”

Garrett turns to Mr. Moran. “I’d like to hear more about this school. That might be our best solution. It could allow her some semblance of normalcy while still keeping her safe.”

Brooklyn, who has been sitting quietly, finally speaks up. “Boarding school won't be so bad, Keats. I haven’t told you yet.” He sighs. “I didn't want to tell you until after your birthday, but I leave next week.”

I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. Is that why he wouldn’t commit all summer long? He planned this? He used me?

I can't breathe again.

I barely get out the words. “When were you going to tell me? After you'd left?”

I run into my room, slam my door, sit on my bed, and cry.

Cry over Brooklyn, the boy I thought I was so in love with. The boy I spent all summer with thinking we were in love. I cry again for being so stupid about Vincent. I open my eyes and see another photo of my little sisters. In this one they are all dressed as princesses.

I cry some more.

Go to boarding school, the voice from the club tells me. You’ll be safe. They’ll all be safe.

I can't put them in danger. I'd die before I'd let anything happen to those innocent smiles.

I think about how Vincent picked me up.

How he touched this dress.

How he touched my skin.

I run in my bathroom, turn on my shower, and stand under the hot water.

Then I realize I’m still wearing my party dress.

 I rip it off, throw it to the ground, and drench my body in soap.

And then I scrub my skin until it feels like it might fall off.

When the hot water runs out, I grab a towel and dry myself off.

I walk back into my room, take a deep breath, and pull myself together.

I see the boots Cush gave me lying on my desk, so I pull them on my feet.

These boots are the new me.

The me that can handle anything.

The me that is in charge of my life and isn’t going to let people tell me what to do anymore.

I grab a pair of jean shorts and the soccer shirt I was going to give back to Cush and pull them on. I'm cleaning up the mess that is my face when Brooklyn walks in.

“You don't have to explain,” I say icily. “I get it. You need to do what's right for you, and so do I.”

“That’s it? That’s all you're gonna say?”

“Yeah. It’s all I can say. I encouraged you. Although,” I add snidely, “for someone who wants me to avoid the spotlight, I find it funny that you're heading straight toward it.”

“I’m not doing it for the money, the fame, or the spotlight. I'm doing it for me.”

“And I'm going to boarding school, but I'm not doing it for me. I'm doing it for them.” I point to the picture of the girls.

Brooklyn nods his head, gets tears in his eyes, and pulls me into a hug.

I hold my shoulders stiffly. I don't want to let him in.

“Keats, this is not the way I wanted this to go down. I had an amazing summer with you. The best summer of my life.”

“Is that why you didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend? Because you didn't want to have to break up with me? Because you’ve been planning this all along?”

“You’ve been my girlfriend all summer, Keats. I thought when I told you I loved you that you knew that. And I didn’t plan it all summer. I mentioned it to my dad, and he got the sponsors all set up. He told me when we were in London that he thought it might all pan out, but I didn’t know for sure until we got home. I didn't tell you, because I didn’t want to ruin your birthday.”

“I didn't know how you felt.”

“How could you not know how I felt? I've told you a million fucking times this summer that I love you.”

“Well, maybe you need to learn to communicate better.”

“Maybe you need to grow up. Stop worrying so much about what people think and start worrying about what you think.”

I immediately get tears in my eyes.

I swear, I'm normally not such a crybaby.

“Don’t yell at me. I can't take it.”

He grabs me. Hugs me tight.

I lay my head on his chest. The place that used to feel so wonderful now feels foreign. “So we were already going out?”

“I told you, I love you. We were together because we wanted to be. That's all that mattered.”

“No, knowing where you stand is what’s important. And after tonight, I knew exactly where I stood with you. That’s why I broke up with you even though we weren’t actually going out. And I kissed Cush.”

He purses his lips. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you kiss him?”

“Because you didn't like me enough to want to date me. We had sex the other day, and you said I'm glad we can chill together. That’s why. So are you telling me that we were in a relationship? Like you were my boyfriend?”

“Labels matter way too much to you. All the way down to the ones in your thousand dollar boots.”

I look down at the boots Cush gave me for my birthday.

Be bold, Keatyn.

I raise my chin up, stand up tall, and put my bitch on. “Lots of guys tell you they love you just for sex; even my mom, who is in a we’re-together-but-don’t-label-it relationship, asked me about my birthday. Wanted to know if you asked me out. If you gave me a ring or anything.”

“A ring?”

“Not like engaged. Just something to show the rest of the world you wanted to be with me.”

He flips his hand over and shoves his fresh tattoo in my face. “Tattoos last forever, Keats. I thought we would too.”

I start crying again.

“You should’ve known,” he pokes my chest, “in here. You don't know if I'm the one, do you?”

“I wanted you to be the one. I've loved you since the day I met you.”

“You had a crush on me. That’s different than true love.”

“And you’re telling me you feel that way about me? You can’t. You just decided to leave me for a year. You didn’t ask me to be your girlfriend, and you only like me when I’m your laid-back surfer girl. When I’m me, you don’t really like me that much. You want me in your world, but you don’t want to venture into mine.”

He runs his hand through his hair and shakes his head. “I know everything you’re saying is true. But I did love you. I mean, I do love you. I wasn’t lying. I just figured if fate wanted us together it would figure out a way, because I couldn’t figure it out myself. I couldn’t figure out how I could have my dream and you too.”

“Well, you pushed fate along. You didn’t dance with me. You didn’t try to be nice or meet any of my other friends. You make fun of my amazing shoes and called my gorgeous dress slutty.”

Brooklyn nods his head. He knows what I’m saying is true. “So what are we gonna do?”

“You’re going on tour, and I’m going to boarding school. I’m going back out there.”

Mom looks surprised to see me back out in the family room. “It's late, Keatyn; why don't you get some sleep? You’ve been through a lot. We can figure this out in the morning.”

“Mom, I’m not going to be able to sleep. Probably ever again. Besides, it is morning. I feel better since I took a shower and talked to B. I finally know where we stand.”

I sit down next to Mr. Moran and hand him Tommy’s laptop. “Would you mind showing me the school’s website?” I ask politely.

He types in an address and turns the screen to face me.

I click through the site.

“That looks very nice,” Mom says, hovering behind me. “Look at the gorgeous trees.”

Mr. Moran continues his sales job. “It's a beautiful campus—a lot like a college. And it's very exclusive. Most of the kids go on to Ivy League schools.”

I click on the soccer page.

Mom says, “Look, honey, you could still play soccer.”

“Yeah, it looks nice. Mr. Smith, if you think it’s safe, I’d like to go there.”

My phone has been vibrating all night. While they are still talking about boarding school and clicking through the website, I take it out of my pocket, plop down on the couch, and read the texts. Lots of people have asked about the after-party. They wanted to know if it was rescheduled.

So far, no one has asked about me.

Then there are the texts from my best friends.

Vanessa:  I thought you picked Cush and that things would be back to normal this year, but canceling the after-party without any explanation is the last straw. Everyone has been asking me about it, like I’m your social secretary. I told them all to fuck off. I had your back on the Cush thing, but you can't be trusted anymore. I’m giving away your seat at our lunch table. You’re through.

Vanessa:  And p.s. I decided I’m going to keep Cush for myself. That boy is fine. 

RiAnne:  Vanessa says we’re done being friends. Just wanted you to know I seconded the motion. 

Cush:  Keatyn, are you okay? Someone said you were on the ground throwing up, and then they announced that the after-party was cancelled. Are you sick? Vanessa is telling everyone the surfer got you hooked on drugs and that you almost overdosed, but when we danced and stuff, you seemed fine. I tried to come to your house to check on you. I don’t know if they told you, but the same guard wasn’t at the gate, and they wouldn’t let me in. I’m worried about you. I love you.

I quickly reply to Cush.

Me:  Can’t talk right now. Major family drama. You’re right. I’ve never done drugs. Never will. I threw up because I was very upset. Vanessa is pissed I canceled the after-party. Says it’s the last straw, that she’s giving away my place at our table . . . And that she’s going after you :(

Cush:  Well that was easier than we thought :) Now we can sit wherever we want. Hope everything’s okay. Call me as soon as you can. No matter how late. I’ll be waiting. I had so much fun tonight. And you told me you love me, so that makes it the best night of my life. Even better than the night at the hotel.

He’s so sweet. I start typing my reply.

Garrett practically rips my phone out of my hands. “What are you doing? You can’t have this.”

“I need to talk to my friends. Explain to them what’s going on.”

He sits down next to me. “This is going to be the hard part. You can’t talk to your friends. You can’t tell them anything.”

“I can’t just leave. I have to explain it to them. Like Cush. He and I . . . like, I can’t just disappear with no reason.”

“You have a very big reason why you need to do just that. Was he the other boy in the photos?”

“Yes, that was him.”

“What does Vincent think your relationship with him is?”

“Um, Cush was my date at one of the parties in the pictures, but I told Vincent he was just my friend . . . wait, do you think he’s in danger? Do you think my friends could be in danger?”

“I think he will use any means necessary to find you.”

“Last Vincent heard, I was dating Brooklyn. I told him about our summer in Europe.” I think about Cush and how happy I felt tonight. I lower my voice so only he can hear. “You don’t understand. I told Cush that I loved him tonight. We’re getting back together. Like, I finally figured out who the right guy for me was. Please don’t make me leave without talking to him. I can’t do that to him. He would be so hurt. He got hurt once because of me already. Please, I’ll lie to him if I have to, but I have to talk to him. I have to.”

Garrett pulls up my last text and shakes his head. “You already told him too much.”

“People are saying I’m a drug addict.”

“The more false rumors about you the better.”

Tears start streaming down my face.

Garrett leans closer to me. “You care a lot about him, right?”

I nod. “He loves me. All of me.”

“Why did you agree to boarding school? Why, when your mom wanted you to go somewhere with them, did you agree to go off on your own?”

“Because I’m afraid for my little sisters. I’d rather leave them and never see them again than have anyone hurt them.”

“You should be afraid for Cush too. If you love him, you won’t talk to him. I know it’s hard. It’s awful, but he can’t know. Sometimes when people enter witness protection we have to make their families believe they’re dead. We hold real funerals, the whole deal. If killers see real emotion from the family, the family is safe from harm.”

“Are you going to say I died?”

“No. If Abby Johnston’s daughter died it would make the news. We have to keep the press in the dark. In a few days we’ll have a plan worked out. I’m personally going to check out this school and make sure the security is good enough.”

I wipe my tears and smile a bit. “Thank you.”

Mom sits down next to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder.

Garrett says, “And when it’s all over, we’ll tell everyone the truth.”

I say softly, “And when will that be? After he succeeds in kidnapping me, or when I’m dead?”

“Keatyn Elizabeth!” Mom screeches. “Don’t you dare say such a thing.”

“It’s what everyone is thinking, Mom.”

Tommy steps in. “Abby, try to stay calm. She’s right. We all thought it, and we all pray that never happens.” He turns to face me. “You seem better. More sure of yourself. You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you? You have that same stubborn look Gracie always gets.”

“Yes, I have. It feels like the right thing to do.”

Garrett says, “We’ll figure this all out. If you go to boarding school, which I think is an excellent idea, you can’t go as yourself. Mr. Moran,” he turns to Damian’s dad, “you can’t even tell your friend who she really is. You can't tell anyone who you are, Keatyn. Not only can you not use your phone, but I also want a list of all your social media profiles and passwords. We’ll change your passwords, so you won’t be tempted to get on, and we’ll monitor them.”

“Got it. No phone. No social media. So who am I going to be?”

“Keatyn Monroe,” Mom says. “That was my great grandma’s maiden name. That’s what I almost named you. Monroe Douglas. But Keatyn Monroe sounds better, don’t you think?”

“That’s a good name,” Millie says. “I like it.”

Garrett adds, “And you’ll need a cover story. A backstory. You're going to have to tell people lies about who you are. That's the hard part. In these situations, we find the more we can leave about you that’s true, the easier it will be to lie about who you are.”

I set the computer back on my lap and click through more pictures.

Students at football and soccer games. Students in classrooms. The gorgeous old buildings. It looks like a nice, safe place.

I click on the school’s calendar.

“We’re gonna have to do all this pretty quickly. Orientation is this coming Thursday.”

“Okay,” Mom says. “Do you think we could try and eat some of this food?”

Tommy and James go around the house and double-check every door and window. They already have security surrounding the house.

I pick at some of the food and look out at a guard standing on the deck.

And realize I still don’t feel safe.

Wednesday, August 24th

Click your heels together.

1pm

The last few days have been awful. Damian went back to Europe on Sunday, and I’ve been going stir crazy. They won’t let me leave the house.

Not that I want to.

I’m too afraid.

Cush tried to stop by a couple times, and it breaks my heart to know I’m hurting him. He’s going to hate me, but I don’t want to put him in danger. James told me that Vincent could be watching the house or the guard booth. He already has a photo of me and Cush from before school was out, I don’t want him to think there is anything between us.

The neighbors have started complaining about their guests practically being accosted at the guard booth. I don’t know why security is making such a big deal out of it—we know what Vincent looks like—but Garrett and James both started talking about disguises and hiring someone and all sorts of other ways he could get to me.

I’ve had enough bad dreams lately that I don’t want to listen.

I finally told James that I didn’t care what anyone said, and that I was sitting out on the deck.

I put on a bikini and laid out in one of the chaises.

I closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else. Brooklyn has been scarce. He’s been busy packing, since he leaves tomorrow too. His first tournament is in Zarautz, Spain. One of the places we visited this summer.

Normally when I lay out, I listen to music, doze off, and have a nice little daydream, but instead of daydreaming about boys and kisses, I’m envisioning spy movies. A sniper who takes out the two guards next to me with barely a sound. Cables dropping from a stealth helicopter and a team of black-suited ninjas on our roof. They move silently through the house, taking out the rest of the security detail. Then the door to my bedroom bursts open. They’ve killed everyone else; no need to be subtle now. One of them rips off his black outfit. Underneath is Vincent in a black Armani suit, black shirt, and black shoes, his dark hair slicked back. He grins at me, grabs my wrist, and says, Perfection. We’ll make perfection together. 

I wake up with a start, leave the deck as quickly as I can, go to Tommy’s study, and flip open his computer.

I’ve practically memorized every page of my new school’s website. I’ve looked at all the photos, studied the map of the campus, read their student handbook twice, wondered how many of the rules they actually enforce, read about every athletic and academic club, and all the other student activities. I’ve read about their famous graduates. I know that 37% of their graduating class goes on to an Ivy League college. I know that they recently revamped their meal service to give the students more healthy choices. I know they have three coffee shops located on campus. I’ve memorized the names and photos of the faculty. I’ve been prepping for my role much the way Mom does before a film.

Delve into your character. Know her background. Become her.

Since I have to become me, I’ve also made a list of all the clubs and activities I want to be a part of. I was bummed to learn that dance team is out, since they had their tryouts in May, but I’m going to sign up for all the other stuff.

I read and reread the dress code.

Kym was sent to New York City to shop for me. We aren’t allowed to ship anything from L.A. to my new school lest it be tracked. I get to bring a suitcase-worth of stuff from home. And all of that is being screened before I’m allowed to pack it.

The good news is that Kym’s great at shopping and totally gets my taste. She’s shopping for all my dorm decor as well as clothes to go with my uniforms. She’s super excited to use her talents to make them look amazing. She’s already bought the uniform pieces and had a seamstress tailor them to fit me perfectly. She had the plaid skirts made just a little shorter than they should be. And she’s making me my very own Look Book. She does Look Books for Mom whenever she goes out of town. She figures out the outfits Mom is to wear every day and sends her a little book of photographed combinations. That way, Mom knows she’ll always look her best. I guess at least I’ll look good there. And Kym is sweet. I know this is her way of trying to make me feel better about things. She always says the right clothes give you confidence.

I put the computer down.

It sucks not being able to get on any social media sites to see what everyone is doing.

Or, more specifically, what they’re saying about me.

Come to think of it, I probably don’t want to know.

James walks in. “How you holding up?”

“I’m okay. I’m having a hard time playing with the girls though. It makes me sad to have to leave them.”

“It makes us all sad. I really think I should be going with you.”

“I think that would make me stand out. People would want to know why.”

“I couldn’t be a body guard. I’d have to get a job there or pretend to be your dad or something.”

“I’ve been looking at the website. I think I’ll be okay there, James. There are people here I don’t want to leave but, honestly, even though I know you have lots of security and stuff, I just don’t feel safe. Even with an armed guard outside my room every night, I can’t sleep.”

“You’ve been handling this better and more maturely than anyone expected. Are you sure you’re doing okay?”

“You know how that night, how I thought my dad talked to me?”

“Yeah.”

“The same voice sort of popped into my head later that night and told me I should go to boarding school. That I’d be safe.”

“Really? That’s pretty cool. Garrett is coming over soon. I don’t know if you know this, but he’s the president of the security firm. You noticed as soon as we found out the police weren’t going to be able to hold him, he asked them to leave. He didn’t want anyone in on our plans for you. We can’t afford any leaks.”

“Okay. What does he want to talk to me about?”

James smiles. “He’s meeting with you first, then with everyone else. There are security protocols that need to be in place.”

I hear the doorbell ring. “That’s him,” James says.

Garrett shakes my hand. He’s built much like James. He’s about six feet tall, lean, and has the kind of look in his eye that lets you know you’d better not fuck with him. I don’t doubt he has a military background.

“Let’s have a seat.”

I sit.

“First of all, I didn’t say this the other night, but congratulations on your escape.”

“Uh, thanks?” Seriously? Can you picture that on a greeting card? Congratulations on your recent escape from being kidnapped. We’re so proud of you. Or. . .

“I want to talk to you about fear.”

That gets my attention. “Fear?”

“Yes, fear. Fear is like a sixth sense. When you feel scared, there’s usually a reason. Have you ever been in the house alone and heard a strange noise?”

“Yeah.”

“You know that tingly feeling you get in your stomach? Or when it feels like the hair on your arm or the back of your neck is standing on end? That’s fear. Your body is telling you that something is wrong. You must learn to trust that fear. If you feel fear anytime, no matter how ridiculous you think you’re being, run. Run and find someone. Call someone. Go someplace where people are. Get yourself to safety. Scream. Whatever you need to do. It’s the number one thing that will keep you safe.”

“So why didn’t I feel fear all those times I was with him? I sat with him. I talked to him. I flirted with him. I never felt scared.”

“There were times he tried to get you to go somewhere with him or meet him. Why didn’t you?”

I think about that for a minute. Why didn’t I? “Warning bells, I guess. Like in my head. I wondered why this hot older guy would be flirting with me. Why he’d want an unknown like me for the role. Why he didn’t go through an agent. It sorta didn’t add up.”

“That’s what kept you safe. James tells me you’re a very bright girl. I’d have to agree with him. Trust your intuition. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t.”

“Okay.”

“My job is to figure out all the possible ways he could find you, think of them first, and then do something different. One way we often find people is through social media. I know James took your phone and your computer.”

I nod while he reaches into his bag. He pulls out a new phone, iPad, and laptop. “These are your new toys. We’ve preloaded your phone and email list with the only people you are allowed to contact.”

I scroll through the list and read. “B, D, Garrett, Grandpa, James, Kim, Mom, Sam, Spa, Tom. Not very many. Are the B and D for Brooklyn and Damian? Why did you spell Kym’s name wrong, and who is Sam? And did you already find me a good spa to go to?”

“Both Brooklyn and Damian have unusual names and are in the public eye. We didn’t want to list Tom as Tommy or make Kym stand out with the unusual way she spells her name. We don’t want anyone to connect any dots. We’ll talk about Sam in a minute. Notice I added myself. You need anything—help, advice, anything, anytime, twenty-four hours a day—you call me. No question is too stupid regarding your safety. If for some reason I don’t answer, call the spa. The spa is code for my security firm. They will always answer the phone and can get you whatever you need very quickly.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“Now, for social media. I know it’s part of your world, but trust me, with facial recognition software, finding any new account you might form on the sly would be detrimental to your well-being. Just don’t do it.”

“Okay. What else do I need to know?”

“Money is the other way to track people. Your being a minor complicates the issue, so we had to take a few drastic measures.” He reaches into a file folder and hands me an official looking document. “You’ve been emancipated from your parents and are officially an adult.”

“How does that help?”

“It helps us in quite a few ways. You know all those notes you bring home from school that your mom has to sign?” I nod my head yes. “Obviously, they can’t know your mom is Abby Johnston, so we can’t have her signing anything. With this, you are able to sign for yourself.”

“All right.”

“This is a lot of responsibility that we’re putting on you. James seems to think you can handle it. Can you?”

“Considering the alternative, I don’t have much choice, do I?”

“Are you scared?”

“Um, yeah. Shouldn’t I be?”

“I want you to stay scared. The problem is, once you get there, you’ll probably start to feel a level of safety. That’s when people slip up. You can’t slip up. This is your life.”

“I won’t slip up. I promise.”

“Good. So, back to money. James and I have been working closely with your grandfather. He says you are aware of a trust fund he set up for you. You were supposed to get part of it when you turned eighteen and the rest when you turned twenty-five. You’re getting it now. I’ll give you your new identification and account information later, but it’s important that you understand how it all works. Your grandfather asked a friend of his in Atlanta, Sam, to come out of retirement to handle your accounts. All your bills for school, your phone, your credit cards, etc., will go through him. Your grandfather trusts him completely, but it’s my job to not trust anyone. We had his background completely checked, and I feel comfortable letting him handle your accounts, but I couldn’t allow him to know who you really are. The story your grandfather told him is that you are the granddaughter of a friend of his. Your parents recently passed away, you have a large trust, and he was afraid someone unscrupulous would rip you off, so he asked Sam to handle it. Sam only knows you as Keatyn Monroe. Your trust money was run through numerous accounts, a few shell corporations, multiple countries, scrubbed clean, and finally, put back into a trust in your new name.”

I nod my head and try to absorb everything he’s saying. Keep memorizing my new script.

“Any questions so far?”

“What about a car? Am I going to need to get around?”

“As soon as you get settled at school, you will need to buy a vehicle. Be sure to do that right away. I want you to have a car at school. Keep your gas tank full and your keys with you at all times. Your car is another way for you to escape, should he find you.”

I smile. “So I can buy whatever car I want?”

He grins back at me. “Yes, although I would avoid buying the same car you got for your birthday. There aren’t that many of them and it’s easy to run DMV reports. Remember, you’re going to have winter to deal with up there. I’d suggest something with all-wheel or four-wheel drive.”

“I drive a Range Rover now. Would that be a good choice?”

“Absolutely. I also want you to get to know the train routes.” He reaches in a file and hands me train schedule print-outs. “Traveling by train means you’re not alone, and it’s a quick way to travel anonymously.”

“Okay.”

He pulls out the locket James got me for my birthday.

“Why do you have my locket?”

“James gave it to us to modify.” He opens it up to show me a picture of a young boy. I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“It’s my dad, but James told me I couldn’t have a picture of my dad.”

“No one will recognize him at this young age. And after what you went through, I know it’s important.” He leans over to clasp the necklace around my neck.

I get tears in my eyes. “Thank you. It really does mean a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome, but this is more than just a locket now. We’ve inserted a tracking device in it. Don’t take it off. Ever.”

“You’re going to track me?”

“Yes. Our computer programs will be constantly comparing your GPS coordinates with those of your campus. If you go off campus, we’ll be alerted.”

“And then what?”

“Well, if you haven’t told us you’ll be off campus, we’ll assume you’ve been kidnapped and send in the calvary.”

I smile. “That’s reassuring. At least if he did find me and take me, you’d be able to find me. So how do I let you know if I’m going off campus?”

He holds up my new phone. “See this application? The compass with the black background?”

“Yep.”

“If you leave campus of your own free will, click the app before you leave. If something happens on campus, click the app icon three times, and we’ll know you’re in trouble.”

“Three times. Just like Dorothy? Click your heels together three times?”

Garrett smiles. “Obviously, it’s important to keep your phone charged and with you at all times. Try to always sit with your back to a wall, not with your back to the room. Try not to go off campus alone. Be sure to look inside your vehicle before you get in it, and if you leave campus, vary the routes you take. Don’t be predictable. No standing nail appointments.”