Chapter 13: The Game

Gemma did not blink.

"The phone," she said. "There's a red bar on it."

"Is there?"

Chiara looked down at the bag and let her forehead crease.

"Taylor put something on it in the car," she said. "Dr. Coombs wants me to record my days, so I can listen back."

"Show me."

Gemma was off the bed before the sentence ended.

She pulled the zipper open and took the phone out with two fingers.

Chiara did not stop her.

Every nerve in her arm said grab it, and she sat with both hands open on her knees.

In the car Taylor had told her the app copied itself to her own account every minute, in case anyone ever took the phone.

Chiara held on to that one fact and kept her face mild.

Gemma opened the app.

One long file sat on the screen, nearly an hour of it.

She pressed delete, and then she pressed yes.

"There," she said. "You don't need that."

"Oh. Is that bad?"

"It's nothing. It's just clutter." Gemma dropped the phone back in the bag and smiled again. "Let's play a game."

"What kind of game?"

"The kind where you tell me what you remember."

She took Chiara's wrist and led her out into the upstairs hall.

"Festival," Gemma said, and watched her.

"What festival?"

"A big one. Lights, music, a line for hot dogs. You and I got separated."

"I'm sorry. I don't know it."

Gemma said nothing and walked on.

She stopped at the head of the staircase, where the marble ran thirteen steps down to the front hall.

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