The Last Secret You'll Ever Keep by Laurie Stolarz (ebooks online reader .TXT) 📗

chat room, then sent me a link right away to go chat in private.

NightTerra: So, she’s ok then.

Darwin12: I wouldn’t go that far. She def wasn’t herself.

NightTerra: What do you mean?

Darwin12: I asked her why she hasn’t been online, but she wouldn’t tell me.

Darwin12: She did say that you and she had gotten into an argument and that you don’t trust her anymore. Something about her not being 100% honest about stuff she shared online …

Darwin12: I don’t know … It sounded pretty stupid, but she was def upset.

NightTerra: Did she mention the message I sent her?

Darwin12: No, when did you send it?

NightTerra: Yesterday. Or the day before? The days are blurring together.

Darwin12: You sound like me.

Darwin12: Anyway, she asked me to come get her, like that’s even an option, right?! I live in Oregon, all the way across the country. She knows that too.

NightTerra: She told you where she lives.

Darwin12: Yeah. Maine.

Darwin12: Pinecliff or something like that.

NightTerra: Pineport.

Darwin12: Yeah, that’s prob it. I asked if she was ok because that seemed totally weird and really random. I mean, why ask me to come, of all people? Why not ask her parents or a friend that lives closer?

Darwin12: Or maybe she’s in some kind of trouble and doesn’t feel she can tell anyone—except for the faceless guy in the chat room who’s prob just as screwed up as she is … Lol.

NightTerra: Is she in trouble?

Darwin12: That’s just it. I don’t know. She just kept telling me she was inside a phone booth, like the kind you see in old movies. I didn’t even think they still existed, but I guess they do because, apparently, she was in one.

NightTerra: What???

Darwin12: I know. Definitely weird.

Darwin12: She said she was staring out at a blue-and-white-striped lighthouse.

NightTerra: Why was she telling you all that?

Darwin12: Exactly. Why? I have no idea. But it seemed she wanted me to know, as if she was giving me landmarks.

NightTerra: Do you think she was drunk or something?

Darwin12: I don’t know. She couldn’t really talk. It was almost as if everything was in code. Plus, I think her cell reception must’ve been bad because her messages kept getting delayed and some of them seemed out of order, like not in sync with mine.

Darwin12: The only thing for sure was that she wanted me to drop everything and come get her.

NightTerra: In Maine?

Darwin12: Yep. At that phone booth.

Darwin12: Totally messed up. So, I’ve been staying online, just to see if she might come back and explain herself.

Darwin12: But, of course, she hasn’t.

NightTerra: How long was the chat?

Darwin12: I don’t know. Maybe 5 min tops. The chat cut off in the middle of things.

NightTerra: Are you sure that’s all you remember?

Darwin12: There was one more thing. She said she was scared. I asked her why—more than once. But either she wouldn’t tell me or she wasn’t getting the question, like maybe it wasn’t coming through. I don’t know.

NightTerra: Was she alone?

Darwin12: Probably not completely alone, since she was being all cryptic. Maybe someone was nearby. Again, not sure.

NightTerra: Do you think we should tell someone? Maybe the Jane administrators …

Darwin12: I already did. I’m just waiting to hear back.

NightTerra: Is there anything I can do?

Darwin12: No chance you live in Maine and know where there’s an old-fashioned phone booth that looks out at a blue-and-white-striped lighthouse, is there?

NightTerra: I have to think a bit.

Darwin12: Well, don’t think too long. I’m worried about her. And I’m almost ready to cash in my frequent-flyer miles and hop on a plane.

Darwin12: I feel partially responsible because it’s me she’s confiding in. I have this info. I need to do something with it.

NightTerra: Sounds like you’re already doing something.

Darwin12: I guess. Anyway, let me know if you think of anything else.

NightTerra: I will. Talk to you soon.

I log out, then check my JaneBox. There’s a message from the Jane administrators.

Dear NightTerra:

We hope you’re having an empowering day! We just wanted to let you know that Paylee22 logged on to the Jane Anonymous website at 4:22PM EST this afternoon. We’re still looking into things, but we know you were worried about her and hope this news helps to ease some of your concern. Hopefully, you’ll see her around the chat room very soon. In the meantime, please let us know if we can be of further assistance.

Yours,

“Jane”

I hit Reply and send a message back, asking what “other things” they’re looking into and to send me a response as soon as they know anything more.

In my search box, under Images, I type in Pineport Community College. Several of the pictures feature the campus and buildings. Others show glimpses of a blue-and-white-striped lighthouse. I try another search, using Peyton’s name and the name of the community college. A photo of a group of students pops up. They’re all sitting on the campus lawn in front of a brick building. The caption reads Back to the Books and lists the students’ names. The second person from the left is a girl named Peyton Bright. Could that be her?

I do a search on Peyton Bright. A series of options comes up: Peyton Bright, the marine biologist; Peyton Bright, the photographer; an obituary for Peyton Bright, who died at eighty-four.

On and on.

Nothing that fits.

My head aches.

I shut my phone off and close my eyes; they feel scratchy and dry. Do I have any eye drops? Or a rubber band to tie back my hair? I should really splash some water onto my face.

Also, when was the last time I ate?

Or had anything to drink?

Or took my meds?

My throat feels parched. My stomach is queasy.

Has the water cooler been refilled? What are the odds that Miguel left his stash of butter cookies behind in the break room? I need to check, but the visual of the girl in the campus photo burns inside my brain. Peyton Bright, with her long dark braid and cheeky smile. I picture her huddled up inside an old and rusted phone booth.

“Hey, you’re here early,” a voice says from behind,