Chapter 12

Principal Harris cleared his throat again as the microphone squeaked. "Students, I know these past few weeks have been difficult, and I appreciate your cooperation during this time." He exhaled, his eyes scanning the audience before continuing. "Due to the ongoing situation surrounding the anonymous posts made by the user known as 'Emia,' the administration has made the decision to involve law enforcement."

A ripple of gasps and whispers broke out among the students. Jasmine's hands started to tremble, and she instinctively placed one over the fading bruise on her arm—the one she had gotten during her scuffle with Ashton. 

"The police will now be actively investigating this case," Principal Harris went on. "This is no longer just a matter of school policy but a case of cyber harassment and endangerment. If anyone has any information on the identity of Emia, I encourage you to come forward."

Jasmine swallowed hard. This was escalating faster than she expected. But she couldn't back down now—not when everything was falling into place. There wasn't much time left.

As the assembly ended, the students spilled into the halls, their voices rising in heated debates. The school had been split into two factions—those who believed Emia was a force of justice, exposing the truth no matter the cost, and those who saw Emia as a cowardly bully who had ruined lives.

"Mel's in a coma because of them," someone muttered.

"They exposed the truth. If people's lives are ruined, maybe they deserved it."

"You can't seriously believe that!"

Jasmine walked past, pretending not to hear. Doubt itched at the back of her mind. Should she keep going, or was it time to lay low?

Jaw tightening, she adjusted her backpack strap and walked faster. If they thought she was going to back down now, they didn't know her at all.

Later that night, after visitation had ended, Ashton, Milo, and Luke drove toward Mel's house.

The place was dark—no police in sight.

The three of them shared a glance before heading around the back. Ashton lifted the fake rock, grabbed the key, and slipped it into the lock. The door clicked open with ease. They stepped inside, greeted by the cold emptiness of a house that no longer felt like a home.

Based on memory, they knew the guest room was upstairs, but none of them could remember exactly which door led to it. After opening three doors—a storage closet, a bathroom, and finally, the right room—they stepped inside and turned on the light. The space felt untouched, frozen in time.

"We need to figure out where the video was taken from," Milo said, pulling out his phone.

The three of them moved around, angling their phones to match the perspective of the video. Luke was the first to find it.

"The closet," he muttered. "It was filmed from here."

Ashton's stomach twisted. "So someone was hiding in here the whole time?"

Milo nodded. "Either this was planned, or someone saw you heading up here with Rebecca and beat you to the room." He stepped into the closet, scanning the space for any strands of hair, fibers, anything that could hint at who had been there. But it was spotless, whoever had been there had left nothing behind.

As they made their way back downstairs, Ashton paused. "Wait. We should at least grab some of Mel's stuff."

That question no one wanted to ask hung in the air. Who was going to take care of Mel now that her dad was in jail?

Luke threw his arms around both of them. "We'll take care of her."

They went back upstairs, this time heading toward Mel's room. The hallway felt heavier as they passed the door to her "aspiration wall," the one she had created with her mom. Words of encouragement, goals, reminders of the future she was working toward. Luke traced his fingers over one of the notes he had written years ago, a small "You got this" in his messy handwriting.

"She'll wake up," Ashton said softly. "You know how strong she is."

They entered Mel's room. It still smelled like her. Ashton felt a lump in his throat as he looked around. Milo went to the bathroom, gathering toiletries and essentials. Ashton found himself dazed, running his fingers over the books on her shelf, the medals from debate competitions.

Then he saw Luke, his expression dark as he stared at Mel's laptop. He had turned it on, and her email was still open.

"Princeton," Luke whispered.

Ashton moving towards him, reading the words:

Subject: Acceptance Withdrawal

Body: "We regret to inform you—"

Luke clenched his jaw. "That's probably what's going to happen to me."

Ashton didn't think. He pulled Luke into a hug, gripping the back of his hoodie. "We're going to figure this out, man."

Luke broke. He cried into Ashton's shoulder, the weight of everything finally hitting him. Ashton swallowed back his own tears, squeezing his best friend tighter.

Milo stood by the bathroom doorway, holding Mel's stuff. His voice was firm when he spoke. "We should go to my place tonight. There's something we need to do tomorrow."

They left the house, getting into the car. Ashton stared back at the darkened home.

"We're gonna make it," he whispered. "We're all going to make it."

They arrived at Milo's house and crashed in the basement. None of them felt like sleeping. Milo dropped onto the couch, running a hand over his face.

"We need to talk to Rebecca," he said.

Ashton groaned. "Why?"

"She's the only person, other than you and Emia, who knows what really happened that night," Milo argued.

"I've tried," Luke said. "She won't answer my calls. Won't text back. She doesn't want visitors."

Milo leaned forward. "Who cares what she wants? We know where her spare key is. We're going tomorrow."

Ashton exhaled sharply but didn't argue. Luke nodded, resigned.

They tried to sleep, but nightmares plagued them all. Memories, fears, everything replayed on a loop. Ashton dreamt of Mel handing him snacks, her laughter echoing before turning into static. Milo saw her beside him, books stacked high as they studied, but the moment he reached out, she disappeared. Luke heard her voice, telling him he'd win the next game, but when he turned, she was gone.

Morning came too fast. They ate in silence, preparing for what came next.