Need (12 page)

I want to scream. Where did it go?

“Hey.” The door swings open and Nate walks in carrying a plate filled with waffles and two forks. “You okay? Your mom sent me up here to check on you.”

“Really?' I study his face, see the dare-you-to-call-me-on-it look in his eyes, and the flicker of hope his words sparked in me dies.

“I also let her know you really aren't making this website up. She didn't want to talk about it while your brother was around, which I understand, but I figured with everything that happened in the past she might want a little more reassurance. You know?”

Yeah. I know. No matter how much I've wanted a fresh start and a second chance, I haven't gotten it. And I'm continuing to pay the price. And maybe so will DJ if NEED is behind Amanda's death and the horrible prank that's been played on him.

“So.” Nate puts down the plate of waffles next to the laptop. “Are you okay?”

It's been so long since I've been okay, I don't know what it feels like anymore. “I'm not the one who's dead, so I guess I'm mostly fine.” I don't want him to see the hurt I feel. Because really, it isn't important. Especially not when I think of Amanda and DJ and NEED. What do my feelings matter in the middle of all that?

I click on the bookmark again and come up with the same blank screen.

“The website is still down?” Nate asks, stabbing a waffle quarter.

“Yeah. Don't you think that's weird?”

“Websites go down all the time,” Nate says through a mouthful of waffle.

“I know, but normally there would be an error message or something saying that the server is down or that the site has been removed. Wouldn't there be?” That's what happens when the school server gets overloaded or one of my brother's online games gets interrupted. You see a note about a system update or a broken link. Here there's nothing. “And the timing bugs me. What are the odds that there's a glitch or someone decided to pull down the site at the same time Officer Shepens arrived?”

Nate offers me the waffle on his fork, but I shake my head.

Nate shoves the piece into his mouth and shrugs. “Coincidences happen all the time.”

“But . . .”

“But.” Nate holds up an empty fork. “You seeing photos of a bakery box on Amanda's front step and the grave in your yard takes this way beyond coincidence.”

“You believe me.” Relief and desperate joy fill me. As do tears. I blink them back as Nate frowns.

“Of course I believe you. You must be more freaked than I thought. Kaylee . . .” He holds out a hand and waits for me to take it. And I do. His warm fingers close over mine and he tugs me to my feet. “We're a team. Period. I wasn't there for you the way I should have been last year.”

I shake my head. “What are you talking about? I would never have made it through my dad's leaving and DJ's illness without you.”

“You'd have made it. You're stronger than you know. I don't have your bravery.”

“You're friends with me. That's pretty brave.” Popular guy stays friends with unhinged girl. That sounds pretty darn heroic to me.

I try to pull my hand away, but Nate only tightens his grip. “No, it isn't. I just understand you.”

He does. Aside from my mother, Dr. Jain, the school nurse, and the principal, Nate is the only one who has heard the truth. And maybe more important, he has kept my secret. The teachers still think I made myself sick out of concern for DJ after he was first diagnosed. Imaginary migraines and forcing myself to throw up weren't symptoms of lack of sleep and stress. They were methods of getting sent to the nurse's office, where I might be able to gain access to information about my classmates' blood types.

“Hey.” There's that thing in his expression again that makes my breath catch. He's still the Nate I've always known. Dependable. Irreverent. Essential. But the flicker in his eyes suggests something more. “We'll get through this like we always do. Together.”

I stop trying to pull my hand away and allow him to web his fingers through mine. The connection pushes back some of my anxiety. Anxiety of another kind fills me as Nate leans toward me. His eyes search my face as if looking for an answer to a question—one that I haven't wanted to think about and certainly don't have an answer for. All I know is that I don't want to lose Nate.

He smells of waffles. He puts a hand on my cheek and I can't help but lean into his touch. It comforts even as it terrifies. I stand stiff and awkward and feeling like an idiot as his mouth brushes over mine. The touch is so quick and light that I can almost believe I imagined it. But the flutter in my gut and the way Nate is drawing me close again belie that thought. Only this time, I know I can't just stand there. Nate won't let me. I have to make a choice.

“Yo, Kaylee.” DJ's voice calls a second before my door swings open. The warning gives me enough time to jerk back. Away from the choice I'm not sure I'm ready to make. My brother doesn't seem to notice my discomfort or Nate's frown as he makes a beeline for my laptop. “Did the website go back up? Did anyone else . . .”

Die.

The unspoken word hangs in the air.

“The site is still down.” Nate puts an arm around DJ and says, “Who knows, the people behind it might have run out of money for all the gifts they've been giving and decided to shut it down for good. Which is probably for the best, although I kind of wish I'd requested a leather jacket or a snowmobile. Now I'll never get what I asked for unless I convince our school shrink that I'm too emotionally distressed to take the physics exam. She likes me, though. It might work.”

Following Nate's lead, I keep my tone light. “Fat chance. You'll have to actually study for your final instead of counting on someone hacking into the system and cheating for you.”

“You asked the website to cheat?” DJ asks, clearly torn between shock at Nate's dishonesty and awe.

“I was asking for assistance in raising my grade,” Nate clarifies.

“That's cheating.” DJ isn't fooled. “You're too smart to cheat.”

“What's smarter—spending hours studying to take a test in a subject you'll never use again or finding a way to bypass all the studying and still come out looking like a genius?” Nate smiles. “Sometimes being smart is about getting the desired result without having to do something you hate in order to get it.”

“That's the kind of thinking that makes NEED so successful,” I say. “People don't want to earn enough money or put in the work to get what they want. They're looking for an easy way out and NEED gives it to them. The person who delivered the cookies to Amanda probably thought it was a birthday gift or some minor prank. They thought they were getting something for nothing. They were wrong.”

“Yeah.” Nate nods. “But what if . . .”

“DJ, what are you doing up there?” Mom yells.

“Ugh.” DJ frowns and turns to me. “I forgot. Mom told me you have to come downstairs so you can talk. I'm supposed to ask Nate to keep me company so he doesn't get in the way. Mom wants to talk to you alone.”

“Great.” Me and Mom talking alone is never a good thing.

“She's not mad, Kaylee. After you left, Nate talked to her. That made a difference,” DJ says brightly. “She's not angry or upset like all the other times. Mom's on your side.”

I'm not sure I share his optimism. Too much has happened for me to believe the mother who was so suspicious of me is now my champion. But it would be nice.

Nate doesn't suffer from my skepticism as he cheerfully announces, “It sounds like my work here is done. I probably should get home before my mother realizes I'm not around to empty the dishwasher. DJ, tell your mom Kaylee's on her way. I just have one last thing I want to talk to her about.”

DJ doesn't look happy to be shooed away, but he goes out of the room yelling to our mother.

Nate turns to me when DJ is out of earshot. “I'll keep checking to see if the website goes up. As long as it stays offline, nothing else bad can happen.”

“Unless people got their assignments last night or early this morning and don't realize the site has gone down.”

“Leave it to you to find the black lining. But you're right, which means I'll just have to make sure everyone has heard the site went down. If there's no reward there's no reason to act on whatever task NEED handed out.” Nate gives my hand a squeeze. “Don't worry about DJ. He's going to be fine.”

With one last check to make sure NEED is still offline, I yell to my mother that I'll be there in a minute, and I walk Nate downstairs to the front door.

“If I learn anything, I'll give you a call.” He leans forward and I hold my breath as he kisses me on the cheek. “Good luck, but I don't think you'll need it.”

With a smile that makes my heart tilt, he disappears out into the cold. Once the door closes, I go in search of my mother, feeling more confident than I have in a long time. DJ still needs a transplant, but maybe with Nate's and my mother's help . . .

I walk into the living room and stop in my tracks when I see my mother isn't alone. Standing in the middle of the room, talking with her in hushed tones, is Dr. Amelia Jain.

When she spots me, Dr. Jain steps forward. “Hello, Kaylee. It's good to see you. I hope you don't mind, but your mother called because she thinks there's a problem and she wanted my help.”

I do mind, because I know a setup when I see one. DJ and Nate are wrong. My mother doesn't believe NEED exists. The problem Dr. Jain is here to deal with is me.

S
AMEENA STANDS AT
the window of her room. When her parents decided to move to Nottawa they let her help pick their new house. She fell in love with this place when she saw the second-story corner room. Its big windows face the woods that edge their backyard. The woods seem magical, especially in winter when they glisten with ice and snow. Usually, she barely glances out the window that faces Mrs. Markham's fenced-in yard where those barking beagles live. But today she can't stop looking.

The screams woke her. Last night, Sameena finally let her father look over her homework. It was late, but he insisted on helping her fix the incorrect answers. It took hours. There were so many of them, and no matter how many times he explained the solutions, she still didn't understand.

He said it was because she was tired. And she was. She thanked him and got into bed, but the dogs were still barking.

And barking.

And barking.

She just wanted them to be quiet. She even opened the window when she saw Mrs. Markham come outside to check on her pups and yell that the dogs needed to stop.

And they had.

Oh help. They had.

Red streaks on the snow. So much red against the packed-down white where the dogs had run yesterday. Sameena concentrates on the slashes of crimson. She doesn't want to think about the hacked-up bodies near the red snow. Bodies that won't bother her with their barking anymore.

Which is terrible to think. She's terrible. She didn't want this to happen. She never meant this.

Or did she? What else could she have meant when she typed her request and hit Enter? What else could she have intended to get when she took the jelly jar filled with change off the top shelf of Mr. Nelson's workbench and stashed it in the back seat of the car down the block?

She just wanted the dogs to stop barking so she could concentrate.

But as she sees Mrs. Markham weeping, Sameena swears she still can hear the dogs. They're still barking. Maybe they'll never stop.

 

 

 

 

DEAR NEED NETWORK MEMBER,

WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE UNEXPECTED DISRUPTION OF THE NEED WEBSITE. OUR SERVER AND SYSTEMS HAVE BEEN UPGRADED TO SERVE YOU BETTER. CLICK ON THE LINK BELOW TO ACCESS THE NEW, IMPROVED WEBSITE. WE LOOK FORWARD TO ONCE AGAIN HELPING YOU ACQUIRE ALL THE THINGS YOU NEED.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.

THE NEED TEAM

 

 

 

 

SYSTEM REBOOTING

SERVICE RESTORED

NETWORK MEMBERS—688

NEEDS PENDING—687

NEEDS FULFILLED—200

WHAT DO YOU
NEED?

M
Y MOTHER STANDS SILENT
. Unmoving. Arms crossed over her chest. Not looking at me. Even though we're in the same room, it's as if a locked door stands between us. And suddenly, I wish it did. Because then I wouldn't see her expression. I could lie to myself and say that she would open the door if she saw how much pain I'm in. I need her now more than ever, but instead it is the diminutive, dark-haired Dr. Jain who offers me a warm smile and a kind word.

“I asked your mother if we could sit and talk in here. I thought we'd all be more comfortable. Don't you?”

No. But I nod anyway because I don't know what else to do.

Dr. Jain takes a seat on our faded blue sofa, and pats the spot next to her. When I stay standing, she lets out a small sigh, but she doesn't tell me to sit. “Your mother is concerned about you, Kaylee.”

I doubt it. She's concerned about DJ, although I don't think pointing out the difference will help my cause. So I keep my mouth shut—a defense I probably haven't used often enough. Had I chosen to keep quiet and not call the police I wouldn't be in this position now. Something to remember for next time.

“Your mother says that you're taking Amanda Highland's death hard.”

My mother stares at a spot on the carpet.

“I think everyone in town is taking Amanda's death hard,” I say. “It shouldn't have happened.”

Dr. Jain nods slowly in response. “You're right. Everyone who knew Amanda or her family will be struggling to understand why such a vibrant young woman is now gone. But as far as I know, none of those people have contacted the police to claim Amanda was murdered.”