Chapter 8: The Word on the Page

The envelope came under the door on Wednesday evening.

Linus heard it slide across the floor and looked up from his desk.

It was a plain brown envelope with nothing written on it.

He left it where it lay.

He did not want to touch it.

He knew what was in it.

He had lain on his own bed for an hour yesterday with that message in his head.

Mattias came back from the clinic at nine, arm in a real sling, a white bandage at the elbow.

"Dislocated and a small chip," he said. "Out for three weeks."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He stopped when he saw the envelope.

He picked it up, and the flap, which had never been sealed, came open in his hand.

A stack of pages slid out onto the desk.

The first page read, in clean black type, Lit 210 Midterm Essay: The Lamp at Gull Rock as Inheritance. By Mattias Pehrson.

Linus looked at it for a long moment.

"Who wrote it?" he asked.

"I did."

"Mattias," Linus said.

It was the first time he had used the name aloud in daylight, and he saw it land.

"I saw Brock's text yesterday," Linus said. "It lit up between us. 'Your midterm is done. Same price.'"

"You went through my phone."

"It was on my chest. I didn't touch it."

"I told you." Mattias put the pages down very carefully. "Nobody touches my stuff."

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