I’ve been gone for ages and drawing air into my lungs is nearly impossible every time I think about what will be waiting for me when I get back. I take the stairs two at a time, trying not to think about it. It’s hard enough to breathe in these musty tunnels. I know I should be feeling relief about the phone but so much has gone wrong tonight that it’s hard to feel secure about anything. Plus what if it takes them a while to get here? We’re on a pretty tight deadline. At this point I think we need to carry on with our plans and hope the police are there as backup. I know Ariel will get the weapons there and Hudson can get them if I’m—okay, not thinking about that. Instead I think about Ariel, how good it felt to talk to her, to tell her I’m not sorry and for her to get that. The absolute worst thing about these past nine months and four days wasn’t the social freeze out or the death of my social life. It was losing my best friend.
