Miami. I guess he’d heard about me through the hackers’ grapevine. I won’t get into too many details, but, basically, they were running this credit-card scam out of Dubai. They needed someone not connected with their network to write code. Eli, the guy on the phone, told me no one would get hurt or even notice. We’d hack into all these credit-card accounts overseas, take one dollar from each, and get out. Over a million accounts, and no one noticed, and no one lost more than a dollar.”
Davis paused, pulled a water bottle from his backpack, unscrewed the top, and took a deep swallow. He glanced at me. “You haven’t freaked out yet, so I guess you want to hear the rest.”
I nodded. “Tell me.”
Davis twirled the bottle cap in his fingers. “Look, I never would have gotten into this, Zo, if I’d known more about it. All I could think was that my cut would mean a ton of money for us. We could use it for college. Maybe we could go somewhere together, away from your parents.”
I squeezed his hand, my anger slowly ebbing.
“I didn’t think I’d get caught. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t. And these guys were big-time. They’d been doing other stuff, too, hacking all over the place. But the FBI found out. Eli messaged me a couple of nights before the accident, said I had to erase everything linked to the scam. A federal agent had asked for me by name, Zo. They were closing in on me, and the minimum mandatory sentence was forty years—my whole life, basically. There was no easy way out. I needed a clean slate.
“When the accident happened, I realized I had to take advantage of it. Here was our chance to be together, staring me in the face!” He paused for a moment and moistened his lips nervously.
I nodded him on, not trusting myself to speak.
“So I used some of the money to pay off a reporter and the girl who writes the obituaries for the paper. After I got out of the hospital, I hacked into their computer and changed my status from Released to DOA. It wasn’t as hard as you’d think—actually, it was kind of scary, how easy it was.” Davis picked up the printed-out obituary. “See? It says that just a memorial service was held. No coffin, no body. I got on a plane right away and came over here to you.” He fell silent, watching my face tensely.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “I cannot believe it. Davis, you’re . . .” I put my face down on my drawn-up knees. “You’re blowing my mind.” Everything he’d told me was whirling in my head. Like I was riding the Gravitron at the school fair, I felt pinned against some invisible wall, unable to move except very slowly. Then the pieces started falling together in my mind, one by one, each fitting into its place with a glassy, metallic click. Davis wasn’t dead. But the obituary was real. My parents thought he was dead because they’d been told he was. So they weren’t lying to me. But I wasn’t crazy either—not at all.
I lifted my face, tears streaking my cheeks and falling into my lap. I flung my arms around Davis. I felt euphoric, drunk. My life felt whole again—I could trust my own thoughts. “I’m so happy!” I cried, kissing Davis all over his face. “I’m so happy!”
He hugged me back, smiling, and kissed me, too. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad? Why would I be mad? You’re alive!” I put my face into his neck and breathed deeply, trying to get a hold of myself. I raised my head. “Everything is wonderful now. Don’t you see? We’re together, and we’ve been through the worst. Nothing can touch us now, and we’re here, in London, the best city in the world.”
Davis rose abruptly and went to stand by the window. He stared out at the skyline, which was rapidly darkening as the sun set over the Thames. Flocks of pigeons flew across the rose-and-gray-streaked sky. Davis smoothed the wood of the windowsill with his fingers. He seemed to be working up to something. I stayed quiet.
“I’m not really out
Davis paused, pulled a water bottle from his backpack, unscrewed the top, and took a deep swallow. He glanced at me. “You haven’t freaked out yet, so I guess you want to hear the rest.”
I nodded. “Tell me.”
Davis twirled the bottle cap in his fingers. “Look, I never would have gotten into this, Zo, if I’d known more about it. All I could think was that my cut would mean a ton of money for us. We could use it for college. Maybe we could go somewhere together, away from your parents.”
I squeezed his hand, my anger slowly ebbing.
“I didn’t think I’d get caught. I don’t know why, but I just didn’t. And these guys were big-time. They’d been doing other stuff, too, hacking all over the place. But the FBI found out. Eli messaged me a couple of nights before the accident, said I had to erase everything linked to the scam. A federal agent had asked for me by name, Zo. They were closing in on me, and the minimum mandatory sentence was forty years—my whole life, basically. There was no easy way out. I needed a clean slate.
“When the accident happened, I realized I had to take advantage of it. Here was our chance to be together, staring me in the face!” He paused for a moment and moistened his lips nervously.
I nodded him on, not trusting myself to speak.
“So I used some of the money to pay off a reporter and the girl who writes the obituaries for the paper. After I got out of the hospital, I hacked into their computer and changed my status from Released to DOA. It wasn’t as hard as you’d think—actually, it was kind of scary, how easy it was.” Davis picked up the printed-out obituary. “See? It says that just a memorial service was held. No coffin, no body. I got on a plane right away and came over here to you.” He fell silent, watching my face tensely.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “I cannot believe it. Davis, you’re . . .” I put my face down on my drawn-up knees. “You’re blowing my mind.” Everything he’d told me was whirling in my head. Like I was riding the Gravitron at the school fair, I felt pinned against some invisible wall, unable to move except very slowly. Then the pieces started falling together in my mind, one by one, each fitting into its place with a glassy, metallic click. Davis wasn’t dead. But the obituary was real. My parents thought he was dead because they’d been told he was. So they weren’t lying to me. But I wasn’t crazy either—not at all.
I lifted my face, tears streaking my cheeks and falling into my lap. I flung my arms around Davis. I felt euphoric, drunk. My life felt whole again—I could trust my own thoughts. “I’m so happy!” I cried, kissing Davis all over his face. “I’m so happy!”
He hugged me back, smiling, and kissed me, too. “You’re not mad?”
“Mad? Why would I be mad? You’re alive!” I put my face into his neck and breathed deeply, trying to get a hold of myself. I raised my head. “Everything is wonderful now. Don’t you see? We’re together, and we’ve been through the worst. Nothing can touch us now, and we’re here, in London, the best city in the world.”
Davis rose abruptly and went to stand by the window. He stared out at the skyline, which was rapidly darkening as the sun set over the Thames. Flocks of pigeons flew across the rose-and-gray-streaked sky. Davis smoothed the wood of the windowsill with his fingers. He seemed to be working up to something. I stayed quiet.
“I’m not really out
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