Aleeza:It’s said just like it’s spelled. A-lee-za Kass-um.
Jay:Nice to meet you, Aleeza. I’m Jay Hoque. Pronounced like two birds. I should probably do my homework too. Chat later, Roomie.
Aleeza:One last thing, in case we don’t talk again, if you can, stay away from the dorm on November 6.
Jay:Why, does East House flood or something?
Aleeza:Yeah, something like that. Good night.
There. Hopefully that advice saves him from disappearing that day. The chat is silent for the rest of the night.
I do some more research on my media project that night—but my mind wanders again. I resist the urge to read everything I can about temporal physics to figure out what’s going on. It’s possible the ResConnect chat won’t even work tomorrow, and if it doesn’t, then there isn’t anything we can do about it. It could have been either a tech glitch or some sort of unexplainable magic far out of my scope. I’m not exactly skilled at complex physics, or technology, for that matter. Maybe Mia could do something with her Ouija board or crystals, but I doubt that would help me figure this out either. At least I warned him about the day he disappears. Maybe I saved him. Or maybe I made things worse—I could be messing up his timeline.
I exhale. This is all ridiculous. I should focus on my schoolwork.
In the morning when I check the app, Jay Hoque isn’t showing as my roommate anymore, and the chat log is gone. And I have no way of knowing if it will be back.
When I leave class before lunch, my friend Amber stops me. Well,friendis a bit of an overstatement. She’s an acquaintance—and the biggest gossip in West Hall.
“Did you hear about Mia’sSkintimately YoursYouTube series?”
I frown. “She’s already got it up?”
“Just a teaser. She’s interviewing a Korean skincare expert—”
“Amber, why are you telling me this?”
Amber is totally the type to rub someone’s misfortune in their face. That’s why we’re not really friends.
She gives me a smug smile. “Because I know she was supposed to do a series with you. How are you getting back at her?”
“I’m not getting back at her. I’m happy for her,” I say, trying to get away from Amber, but she doesn’t let me go.
“I heard you moved to the murder room,” Amber says.
“What?”
“I heard you moved to the dead guy’s room.”
I shake my head. “Jay’s missing. Not dead.” At least ... I assume. I feel nausea take hold in the pit of my stomach. “Is there ... new news about him?” My voice cracks. I should have told him more last night.
“What? No.” She looks around as if to check if anyone is listening to us. “I mean, the guy was a total ass. I heard there’s a whole, like, underground club of girls he fucked and ghosted. One of them did something to him, for sure. It’s sad, though. He was a douche, but he was aperson, you know?”
“There isn’t seriously anorganized clubof girls who hated him, is there?”
Amber nods. “Yup. Haven’t you heard of Birdwatchers?”
Again with Birdwatchers. I frown. “Do you know these people?”
Amber looks at me blankly, then shrugs.
I slide my laptop in my bag. “I didn’t know the guy. I’m just in his old room. That’s it.”
“I couldn’t live there.” She shudders. “It’s got bad mojo or something. You should have the room cleansed. Get his ghost out of there.”
“I gotta go, Amber.” I put my backpack on. I never liked that girl.
SEVEN
