Watched by C. J. Lyons Page B

apartment—her mom kept talking about repainting the whole place, but they hadn’t found time. Miranda didn’t have any framed photos—no glass allowed after she came home from the hospital. But she had filled one wall with a collage of images ripped out of magazines and catalogs.
    The images were of things from Ariel’s life: wishes and dreams and lace and rainbow stuff. Miranda had arranged them to create a larger picture of her own dream, a window that didn’t look out over a parking lot and trio of Dumpsters but instead looked into the future. Or maybe it was the past, Ariel’s past. Anyway, the small scraps of color and light and hope combined to create a large, single rosebud. Pictures hidden in a picture.
    â€œMaybe I can rework this to hide the program in a file that would make sense for you to upload to your computer. Steganography,” she told Griffin. “We’ll use steganography.”
    â€œSure, if I had a clue what that was.”
    â€œIt’s hiding data inside computer images. King asked you to find a kid, right? I’ll grab some stock photos, embed the computer code inside them, so when he opens the file to view them, he’ll also unleash the code onto his hard drive. And it would make sense for you to take photos and transfer them to your computer. You can tell him they’re of Janey’s friends and you want his help in picking out the right kid to approach.”
    There was a long pause. “I don’t know if I can convince him. That’s so…twisted.”
    â€œIt’s not like they’re real kids. And better than you facing him in person, less dangerous.”
    â€œYou can do that? Set it up so King never knows I’m the one who betrayed him?”
    â€œWe can do it. Together. Bring him down. For good.”

18
    Miranda has only been in my life for less than a day, but I love the way she makes me smile. She just never gives up, not on the crazy idea that we can take down King—not on me.
    I can’t remember the last time anyone had faith in me like she does. No. That’s a lie. I can. I just don’t want to. Dad used to talk to me just like Miranda does, like he somehow assumed that I could do anything I put my mind to. I remember the glow of pride I’d feel when we’d finish working on one of his cars and wash the grime off side by side, filling the sink with black suds, me basking in his presence.
    I blink hard and fast, willing away memories of him. He’s gone and he’s never coming back and who needs him anyway? I can do this. I can handle King and my uncle, take care of my family. Even if he couldn’t. Loser.
    â€œWhere to?” I ask her, surprised my voice sounds choked. I clear my throat to cover it.
    â€œAltoona,” she answers. She gives me an address. There’s a clacking sound in the background and I know she’s typing on her computer, working her cybermagic. “It should be open by the time you get there.”
    I turn the truck engine on, plug the phone in to charge as we talk—thankfully it fits the same adapter as the one for King’s phone. I lean back in the driver’s seat as I steer the truck down the mountain and have to adjust the rearview mirror because for once I’m sitting up straight and tall instead of hunched over the wheel.
    Thanks to Miranda.
    â€œI never had a chance to thank you,” I say, feeling suddenly shy. “For finding me. For doing all this.”
    She stops typing and pauses. “You are very welcome, Griffin.” It sounds like there might be a smile coloring her voice. I hope so. Like to think I can make her smile. “But you’re the one doing all the hard work. We’re in this together.”
    That makes me feel even better. I’m not used to being part of a team. “Are you sure this is safe? I mean, King won’t be able to trace you, will he?”
    â€œNot if I get this right,”