14

Audrey got there at 9:30.

She knew the library closed at 9:00 and wanted to arrive after the last workers had left but before 10:00.

By 9:40, the parking lot was already completely empty except for her.

She sat alone in the car, waiting. She was tense, constantly shifting in her seat and looking around at the slightest sound or movement. Every minute felt like an hour.

Audrey had brought the $200 as told. Birthday gifts and money she made by writing for the local paper. Turned into hush money. Exactly what she deserved. Whether that would turn into weekly payments or stay a one-time thing, she didn’t know. There were a dozen options on how this might play out. But unless one of the options included going back in time again and having never done the post in the first place—which didn’t seem likely—none of her choices looked good.

At 10:00, a car pulled into the library lot. It circled around behind her car and then parked across the parking lot. She couldn’t see the driver through the bright headlights blazing directly in her face. Then the headlights went dark.

The driver was sitting with a sweatshirt hood over their head, his or her face lost in the shadows. Then the driver got out of the car.

Her heart pounding way too loudly, Audrey stepped out too.

It was a guy. He moved in front of his car and then slid onto its hood. “I won’t get any closer,” he promised. “I didn’t think through how scary this part would be for you.”

Audrey was shaking, but somehow kept her voice steady. Mostly.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

He pulled back the hood on his Clara Barton baseball hoodie.

It was the guy who had looked at her funny when she and Melicia had gone to the library to take down the blog post. She recognized his face from school but couldn’t remember his name.

“Nick Schaeffer,” he said. “I’m the one who sent you the messages.”

“I figured that part out,” she said. “What do you want?”

“I asked you here because I wanted to apologize in person,” he paused. “This was a horrible idea.”

“Wait.” Audrey blinked, then crossed her arms over her chest protectively. “What are you saying?”

“I wanted to teach you a lesson or something,” Nick said. “All of you. And it went too far. This, this here, is nuts. If you wanna call the police on me or something, I don’t blame you.”

Wait, what? “I’m not going to call the police,” she said. She stepped closer. “Why me?”

“I don’t know.” Nick shrugged. “I was going to mess with Bryant first, but . . . I mean, you wrote the original article. That was easy to tell.”

Despite herself, Audrey edged a little closer still. “How did you know?”

“I’ve read your articles in the school paper and a couple of the ones you wrote about my baseball games last year. You have a pretty distinct style. Plus . . . I’ve seen the four of you here. I mean at the library. I literally watched you and Melicia take down the post.”

“You were spying on us?” Audrey said.

He laughed, and the sound wasn’t creepy at all. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was doing homework. I come here all the time, and I’ve seen you guys here before. I kept meaning to come over and say hi to you all sometime, but you’re always pretty focused. That’s how a lot of people are at the library. I like that it’s quiet here but still has lots of people, you know.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I do.”

“Anyway, I didn’t like what happened to Dean Barcomb.”

She sighed. “Me either.”

“I kinda suspected that too. But, I don’t know, I guess I wanted to give you all a taste of your own medicine.”

Audrey nodded slowly. “If you follow the blog you know we don’t normally put stuff like that up.” Audrey felt the need to explain herself. “It was supposed to be a fake piece but it got way out of hand.”

Nick sighed. “Yeah, I guessed that. Some parts were sort of funny. But it was still a pretty crappy thing to do. I mean, what did Dean Barcomb ever do to you?”

Audrey looked down at her shoes.

“But like I said, I didn’t think it all through—the anonymous texts.” Nick continued, “I thought about just not showing up tonight. Or, I suppose, I could have called it off by text. But I wanted to tell you in person. It just seemed, I don’t know, like the right thing to do.” He shrugged. “Sounds stupid, huh?”

“No, it doesn’t,” Audrey said. She knew exactly how Nick felt. “So you don’t really want—” she patted her hip pocket, the money practically burning a hole in her jeans.

“The two hundred? Oh no!” Nick waved his hands, chasing away the idea. “That was . . . I thought it was good payback for you saying Dean Barcomb took bribes. Like ironic or something. I never actually wanted—”

“Well, I understand,” Audrey said.

“I’m really sorry I sent you those text messages,” he said.

Audrey shook her head, brushing off the apology. “Let’s move on,” she said. “It’s been a weird couple of weeks anyway. What’s another crazy text or two?”

Then she had an idea and forced a casual laugh. “Oh, yeah, what’d the first one say again?” she asked. “Crazy stuff.” She was almost certain Nick had nothing to do with the do-over, but she knew that this was her chance to find out.

“It was ‘I know you wrote it. Was it fun to mess with someone’s life like that? Hope so . . .’ ” Nick sighed. “Stupid, huh? I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Audrey held up her hand to stop him. “Seriously, forget it.” So she still didn’t know where the do-over had come from. A mystery to be solved another day, maybe. Though she seriously doubted it. There was something about a message from no number that seemed to suggest the mystery could last a lifetime.

She refocused on simpler answers. “Why are you so protective of Barcomb?” she asked. “Are you friends with Hope?”

“No, not really. She’s kinda a jerk sometimes, actually. But I know what it’s like to be harassed online.”

Audrey blushed. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. She had written an article about internet trolls a few months ago. But Audrey hadn’t realized until now that she had sort of become one herself. “It really was a stupid thing to do—the blog post. Dean Barcomb isn’t a bad guy.”

“No, he’s not,” Nick agreed.

“Yeah. You know his credentials weren’t that fudged,” Audrey continued. “Minor dates and stuff. One certificate, and he’s working with the university to sort that out.”

“Yeah? Where’d you hear that?” Nick asked.

“I know some people at the local paper,” she said. “I think Mr. Barcomb can prove that the issues were minor, so I’m trying to convince them to do a follow-up article or something else to fix this.”

“You could start a petition,” he said. “At school.”

“We could.” She didn’t know why she said it, but of course, he picked up on the slip.

“We?” He laughed. It really was a good sound.

“Yeah. If you’d be interested, I’d love your help.”

Nick nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “That is, if you’re not sending me to jail for blackmail or for being a super creep.”

“Nah.” She paused then, considered. “Are you a super creep?”

“I don’t think so,” he said. “At least, not before this.” Now it was his turn to sigh. “You ever wish you could go back and do it all over?”

“Yes,” she said. “I do.”

* * *

When she got home, there was a new text message.

This one wasn’t from Nick or her friends. It was sent from a contact with no number at all.

Reply with yes if you would like to undo your do-over.

Her whole heart filled with relief. She’d never even thought, or dared, to wish for such a message. She knew exactly what her answer should be.

Yes.