The Shimmers in the Night by Lydia Millet

had. What if they didn’t come? What would she do here, by herself?
    Night had fallen.
    Jax’s room was more or less as they’d left it when they hustled him out, the covers on the bottom bunk still imprinted with two rounded dents where he and Cara had sat. The poisonous pen was gone, of course—the teachers must have taken it—but Jax’s closed laptop sat on one of the desks, a tiny light on its side fading and brightening again.
    She sat down and opened it; the screen lit up and prompted her for a password, which luckily she knew. Jax wasn’t secretive the way Max was; he’d keyed in his password in front of her. Once she entered the word and its suffix of numbers, his email inbox popped up. She scrolled down, wishing she knew what she was looking for. Would he have bothered to hide what he found?
    She saw emails from her, emails from Max—the normalcy of it was comforting, all Jax’s everyday, kid emails. Finally there was a raft of messages from his geeky best friend, Kubler. She felt guilty clicking on the first one; like she was spying, until the thought of Jax’s black eyes firmed up her resolve.
    There it was: a mention of the source. Kubler’s reply didn’t say much except No way, that’s so incredibly weird , but Jax’s email to him, below, read I pinpointed the coordinates. It’s along the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Somewhere between Greenland and Norway. The volume is massive! Black smokers, is what it looks like. But what Mom’s saying is , these black smokers aren’t your typical geological features. These are not natural.
    Black smokers? It had to be her vision. Her vision had been of the source. And Jax hadn’t kept all this a total secret: Kubler knew. That meant maybe someone had intercepted these messages, as well as Jax’s texts to her. The bad guys—Roger or maybe even the elementals.
    She thought back to the vision she’d had in her bedroom: dark, billowing smoke. And the scene beneath the smoke—snatches of light, apparently under the ocean floor. It seemed impossible, light under the ocean floor. Unless there was a subterranean volcano, maybe? She knew they existed, volcanoes beneath the sea. Could what she had seen be lava?
    But Jax had written: “These are not natural.” Quickly she googled “black smoker” and read black smokers, or sea vents, are hydrothermal vents occurring on the ocean floor. They resemble dark chimney-like structures….
    So normally black smokers were natural. But these, according to Jax, were not. Did that mean the vents on the ocean floor were manmade? Made by the Cold?
    Then, from her pack, her phone made a text alert sound. She fished it out and looked. It was from Jaye.
    We’re here , it said. So come get us.
    In the lobby downstairs there was no one at the reception desk. The lights were on and the phone console at the desk was blinking; beside it lay a half-eaten sandwich with a piece of baloney sticking out. The night guard must have taken a bathroom break. Cara looked around warily, half expecting to see frightening men with flames leaping in their mouths.
    But all she saw was Hayley and Jaye, standing near the revolving doors and looking a little stunned.
    â€œNo way were we getting on the T. We took a cab,” said Hayley. “I had to sneak the money from my mom’s purse. So you better pay me back. I’m in serious, serious crap already because of this. OK?”
    â€œOK,” said Cara gratefully. “Come on.”
    Hayley kept talking as they followed her to the elevators.
    â€œYou’re lucky, by the way,” she said. “That Zee totally took the heat off you. She did a disappearing act herself! Only there wasn’t anyone covering for her.”
    â€œReally? Zee?”
    Cara was puzzled. It didn’t seem like Zee.
    â€œPlease. She was clearly pining for Max, after one night away,” scoffed Hayley as Cara punched