I’m so tired. This day was insane.
And maybe I should just let a sleeping dog lie.
But Ted has been arrested, and the cops assured me he won’t be arraigned until tomorrow morning. I know he’s in the clink all night. I’m safe.
I open my laptop and surf to Lyrically.
I unblock Dylan Thomas.
Maybe this is crazy, but if Ted was lying—if he’s really Dylan—he won’t be able to reply to me tonight from a holding cell. And if Ted’s telling the truth—if he’s not Dylan—maybe I’ll find out who is.
It’s now or never.
Me: Who are you?
A few minutes pass with no reply. I hover over the block button, but a split second before I tap it, Dylan starts to type.
Dylan: You know me.
Me: WHO ARE YOU?
Dylan: You’ll be mad.
Me: I’m already mad.
Dylan: Promise you’ll listen?
Me: If you’re legit my age, I need to know.
Dylan: FaceTime?
Me: Not giving you my number.
My phone starts to ring. I gasp when I see the name lighting up the screen.
No.
Maybe it’s a coincidence.
Dylan: Answer please.
Dylan: We should talk about this.
I look again to my phone, at the invitation to FaceTime.
I accept.
Brendon’s face fills the screen. “Do you hate me?”