The hairs on Juliet's neck prickled as she made her way to the Blackwell main hall. It was unnerving to be pursued by so many eyes and to walk past sudden silences. Gazes followed her as she bustled down the stone steps and across the quad. Then came the cupped hands and hushed conversations. What about wasn't hard to guess; some of her fellow students were holding an issue of the Arcadia Bay Tribune, the one with her Mark Jefferson article.

Who could blame them? Her allegations were enough to terrify any parent with a daughter in Blackwell. But now, everyone has to decide whether or not she was telling an uncomfortable truth or was just another nutjob who caught the ear of a newspaper editor.

It wouldn't surprise her if most chose the latter; after all, she basically told everyone a madman was walking around campus. But she hoped that enough people would believe her. Scratch that–she hoped the right people believed her.

The next few days were going to be crucial. Jefferson would deny the allegations and pursue some sort of legal action–but, God willing, not attack anyone else with all the heat on him. Her own mom and dad are hinting they want her to retract the article. And if Principal Wells caves to Jefferson and Prescott? She might be shopping for a new school by next week. Hell, she might as well start now.

What's done is done, she thought. She ought to get her mind on something else. And nothing distracted Juliet Watson from her troubles than looking for more.

Only one person in school had the key to a possible next big scoop. Time to pay the Blackwell Hermit a visit.

A brisk walk to the girls' dorms brought her to Brooke's door. Their resident computer whiz hadn't been seen much outside of her classes, apparently spending every free moment holed up in her room.

Juliet was about to knock when a familiar voice called to her.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Lois Lane. Enjoying all the attention?"

Juliet sucked in all the air she'd just released. It wasn't that she was afraid of Victoria Chase, not really. It was just that Victoria had so much more experience fighting dirty, it was exhausting getting into it with her.

Nevertheless, Juliet knew she couldn't avoid the Queen Bee forever. She turned around to face her. Victoria was standing in front of her room, like she'd been waiting in ambush the whole time.

"Lois Lane's a Pulitzer Prize winner," Juliet replied, "so I'll take that as a compliment."

"Then I'd say you're delusional," Victoria retorted, "but I think 'liar' fits better."

Juliet's hands tightened into fists as the tall blonde closed the distance between them. "I reported the facts, Victoria. Every word came from Jefferson's victims."

Victoria's nostrils flared. "Don't you dare call them that."

"What, victims? Changing the label won't change what he did to them, Vic."

"You have no proof–no fucking proof–not one shred of evidence that he did what you're accusing him of. And you still went ahead and wrote that...that slanderous piece of shit!"

"First off, Vic, I'm stopping him from doing it to another girl–including you. Second, you mean libelous."

"What-the-fuck-ever! I hope you have a damn good lawyer, Watson. Because even if Jefferson doesn't sue you for defaming him, the Prescott Foundation will have your ass on the street! And you can be damned sure I'm doing my part. As of now, you're out of the Vortex Club!"

"Yeah, wow. Way to set your priorities, targeting me when there's an actual criminal on the loose in Blackwell!"

Victoria was about to retort when the door beside them cracked open and a disheveled goblin with red-streaked hair and cracked lips poked its head out from the gloom. Brooke's glasses were askew, her hair pointing in six different directions, and she still wore the hoodie she used as pajamas.

"Would you two knock it off?" she croaked. "You have any idea what time it is?"

"It's nine in the morning on a Wednesday, Brooke," Juliet pointed out.

"Look up 'rhetorical' some time, Watson."

Victoria glowered at her. "This isn't your problem, freak. Go back to collecting Pokemon or whatever weeaboo crap it is you do in there."

Brooke yawned and leaned against the door frame. "Victoria, I'm not the one hiding a Sailor Moon dildo in her closet."

Victoria sucked in an audible breath, mouth and eyes looking like holes on a bowling ball. Juliet could only shake her head. Jesus, Brooke, you're a fucking menace. Nevertheless, she threw the girl a beseeching look. Catching her gaze, Brooke sighed and opened the door wider.

"Where do you think you're going?" Victoria thundered as Juliet stepped inside. "We're not done here!"

"Sorry, Vic," Juliet gleefully replied. "Can't hear you over the sound of all the Pokemon I gotta catch."

"Don't you dare–!" But Brooke had already shut the door in her face, locking it.

"Un-fucking-believable!" Victoria shrieked, pounding on the door. "You'd better not think this is over, Watson! I'll make you sorry you ever tried to–to–AAARGH!" The sound of her stomping down the hall left Juliet giggling.

"Whew! Thanks for the assist, Brooke. So, is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"The thing about the dildo."

Brooke rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Watson. Why are you even here?"

"Wow, nice to see you too! I was just wondering how you were. We barely see you these days. I came to check on you, you know, see what you've been up to?"

Brooke sniffed and walked to her desk on the other side of her room. "So you didn't actually come here looking for another scoop?"

Juliet was about to reply, but then she took in the state of Brooke's room. The curtains were drawn, leaving the place dark. The main sources of light were two laptops and a desktop, their screens radiating a faint bluish hue. The floor was littered with empty nacho packages, Mountain Dew cans, and M&M wrappers. Printouts filled with computer code blanketed the bed. Juliet was no neat freak herself, but this display left her almost impressed.

"I feel like I stumbled into Gollum's cave."

Brooke sat cross-legged on her swivel chair and pawed through a near-empty bag of chips. "Haven't had time to clean up since 'Esmeralda' twisted my arm into–" She stopped herself.

"Into...?" When Brooke didn't reply, Juliet pursued, "This has to do with you being 'contr01,' right?"

"Shut up!" Brooke shot her a dirty look. "Dammit, Rachel told you, didn't she? Fuck, I should've just denied everything!"

"Hey, hey, I can keep a secret! Don't worry, no one's going to know there's a hacker dorming in Blackwell."

Brooke's eyebrows had vanished into her bangs. "Very comforting, coming from Blackwell's 'X-treme Reporter.'" She motioned for Juliet to sit on the bed.

Gazing at the desk, Juliet recognized one of the laptops as the one Rachel and company had taken from the site. Beside it, a mini-whiteboard on the desk displayed even more code.

"So are you doing it?" asked Juliet. "You're hacking Prescott?"

Brooke rubbed her eyes. "One: I don't know who's at the other end of this. Might be Prescott, might not. Two: you really don't wanna know anything about what I'm doing if you're gunning for plausible deniability."

"Well, I don't. And you know I don't like not knowing. C'mon Brooke, spill."

"You know what, fine. Don't blame me if you get burned for this." Brooke typed a few commands on the keyboard. "So I used this laptop–the one Rachel and company lifted from the Theater–to pick up an IP address from the mail server. I've been running netscans and programs to test the server's defenses. So far, I've run into six firewalls, a honey pot, and a network security monitor, but I finally managed to install rootkits on–"

"Whoa, okay, slow down!" Juliet said. "Say that again, but in English. You found the owners of the thing being built in the forest?"

"More like I found where they keep their data. The IP address of their server."

"Okay...so, they've got loads of alarms and such?"

"Military-grade stuff." Brooke typed something, and rows of computer code cascaded down the screen. "Their server's dark as it gets. Took me days to overload their firewalls, figure out which computers were dummies, and find their database."

Juliet propped her chin on her palm. "So it's going to take you a while longer to break in, huh?"

Brooke's fingers paused over her keyboard. "Actually...I got root access this morning."

"English, please."

"I'm the damn administrator! I can pretty much do what I want!"

Juliet flashed an impish grin. "So that means you can get to the 'root' of our problem?"

"Ha-ha. Ever thought about a career in SNL instead of the news?"

"Not as funny as current events. Have you dug into their files yet?"

"I–" Brooke paused, scratching her ear as she pored over the screen.

"Brooke?"

"Yeah, I'm..." She trailed off, fingers fiddling with a nearby soda can. "Gimme a moment. I'm figuring it out."

You're scared, is what you're saying, thought Juliet. And why not? The enormity of what they've gotten themselves into had only recently begun to sink in. Who knew how deep this rabbit hole went? I know you're doing all this to help us, Brooke, but I don't know how to help you.

Before she could think of anything to say, a soft knock grabbed their attention. Brooke whirled to the door like she was expecting an ambush.

"I take it you didn't invite anyone over?" Juliet asked.

"No!" Brooke said. "If it's Vicky McBitchface again–" She stalked to the door. "Victoria," she called, "you should know I'm shaking a Mountain Dew can in my hand and I'm not afraid to spray it all over your ridiculously expensive crop top!"

"It's me, Kate," came the reply.

Brooke and Juliet exchanged a glance. Scowling, Brooke opened the door to find Kate smiling tentatively, holding a large paper bag in front of her like a shield. "Please don't spray me."

"Hey Kate," Juliet said, swiping the soda from Brooke. "Don't worry, you're okay. What brings you here?"

"Rachel told me you were doing something very important today," Kate replied, and Brooke planted a palm on own her face. "Which is why we don't see you much around campus. I thought I'd check in on you." She raised the bag. "I brought some cheese bagels from the cafe. In case you're hungry."

"Oh, uh," Brooke ran a hand through her disheveled hair. "Thanks? You didn't have to–"

"You're so sweet!" Juliet gushed, pushing past to open the door wider. "C'mon, Brooke, invite her in!"

Brooke muttered from the corner of her mouth. "I don't need. Another. Witness!"

"Um, if there's something I could do to help, I'd love to," Kate said, beaming. "Even if it's just moral support. We can pray together if you like."

"We'll need any good vibes you can give us, Kate!" Juliet poked Brooke's rib. "Plus, even you're not gonna turn down cheese bagels!"

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Brooke stepped aside to let Kate in before locking the door again.

"Thanks, Brooke." Kate took a moment to look around. "Your room's...quite nice."

"It's a disaster area, and I like it that way," Brooke growled, reaching in the bag for a bagel. "Go on and sit on the bed."

"Thanks for coming, Kate," Juliet said, clearing some space beside her. "It's good to see a friendly face. There's...kind of a short supply right now."

"Hey, I'm happy to help," Kate said, handing her a bagel. "Oh, and congratulations on the article! I heard from Warren that people all over are talking about it! You must be very proud."

"Uh, well." Juliet sighed and picked at the poppy seeds on her bread. "It's...complicated."

"What do you mean?"

"I've kicked the hornet's nest. As in, the Queen herself came over to sting me in the face. Let's just say I'm 'ex-Vortex' now."

"Oh, I'm sorry," murmured Kate, looking like she'd rather get into a cage with a tiger than face Victoria. "Are you alright?"

"I'm good." Juliet leaned back, casting her eyes at the ceiling. "You know, there was a time I'd be devastated to be out of the Vortex. But now? I'm figuring out that it's mostly a bunch of stuck-up rich kids who want things to stay exactly as they are, with them on top. And they're not my kind of friends." She kicked at an empty soda can. "It's just that...it's a real downer when people doubt you from the start, you know? Talking shit about you even if you're supposed to be doing the right thing. It's tougher than I thought."

Kate nodded. "I...kinda know a thing or two about that."

Juliet paused, looking at Kate. "Yeah, yeah, I guess you would, wouldn't you? How do you deal with it? I mean, I don't even know if I made a difference."

"You did make a difference!" Kate gasped, her hand finding Juliet's arm. "You have to believe that. You shone a light on an evil man's crimes. A lesser person would've turned away and left it to someone else, but you made it your problem. You took a stand. People may not realize it now, and maybe some never will, but you saved lives. And I for one won't ever forget that."

Juliet's eyes glimmered at Kate's smile. "You mean it?"

"Uh-huh. If even one girl believes you, that's one more person safe from Jefferson. That counts for something, right?"

"Yeah." Juliet sat up straighter. It was unexpected, but Kate's words comforted her. Why should she let those bitches get her down? She told everyone the truth. Not only did that make her a reporter–it made her a good person, particularly to Kate.

She leaned over and hugged Kate. "You're such an angel. Thanks. I really needed to hear that."

"Anytime. Don't let the, uh, the Queen 'B' get to you. A great man once said, 'Learning to ignore things is one of the great paths to inner peace.'"

"Is that Jesus?"

"More like Charlie Brown."

From the corner of her eye, Juliet caught Brooke watching them, an uneaten bagel in her hand. "What?" Juliet asked her.

"Nothing. Just thinking about what enormous saps you two are." She turned her chair back to her laptop. "I better get to work. Data's not gonna steal itself."

Juliet bounced to her feet. "You're gonna do it now?" she cried. "For real?"

"Do what, exactly?" Kate asked, looking from one to the other.

"Brooke's trying to hack into the bad guys' server! She said she just got root access!"

A faint smile quivered on Kate's lips. "Does that mean she's about to access the 'root' of all evil?"

"We already did that joke," Brooke groaned. "Are you gonna make yourselves useful or what?"

"We will!" Juliet leaped to her feet and stood behind Brooke's chair. "Tell us what to do."

"Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on. God, Mom's gonna fucking kill me." Brooke punched a few commands on her laptop before motioning to the desktop on the other table. "Kate, you watch the log on that screen. See how it's slowly updating? Let me know if it starts moving fast. A lot of activity means trouble, so it's very, very important you tell me when it starts sprinting. Clear?"

"Crystal!" Kate positioned herself by the computer, eyes glued to the screen.

"What about me?" Juliet piped up.

"Pretend you're not here and forget everything you see."

"Be serious, Brooke!"

"Quiet! I'm starting." The monitor reflected off of Brooke's glasses as she flexed her fingers. She rapidly typed several lines on the command prompt. "Accessing," she announced as a password prompt appeared.

Juliet perched her hands on the backrest of Brooke's chair. "So, what's the game plan?"

"We jump in, download any files that look important, delete the log to cover our tracks, then GTFO."

"What happens if we get caught?"

"If we're quick, we shouldn't get detected. But if we do, I'm already bouncing our connection through dozens of host computers around the world. We should be long gone before they get the chance to trace us."

"How did you even set all this up?"

"I know a guy in Arizona, set me up with all the tools I needed. Plus, I'm remotely using one of his custom machines as an extra buffer. The rest was hours of probing and testing–all for this." Brooke punched in the password, inhaled sharply, then hit Enter. "There. Kate?"

Without looking away, Kate said, "Um, it doesn't look like anything's changed."

"Good. Let's take a look around while our luck's holding. This data folder, for example."

Juliet nodded, watching as Brooke navigated into the directory, only to reveal several dozen more folders. "Crap, look at all that."

"Yeah. What are we looking for?"

"I'm thinking names, places. Anything that we can trace to actual people."

They pored over a few folders but found nothing of interest. Every few minutes, Brooke would turn to Kate and ask for an update, and each time, Kate would reply with 'none.'

"No news is good news," Brooke muttered. "But we still don't have anything solid here."

"Suppose you just download the whole data folder?" Juliet offered.

"That's hundreds of Gigabytes. We'll get caught for sure."

"Then we have to keep combing through these directories till we find something." Juliet peered at the screen. "Try that one–'teletourgía.' It's Greek, I think. Maybe it's special?"

Brooked navigated to it. "These files look familiar. Architectural plans for the Theater. We've seen those already."

"Wait!" Juliet leaned closer, reading the words onscreen. "That file, the one that says 'Bacchanalia.' That's new."

"My Greek's rusty–what does 'Bacchanalia' mean?"

The unfamiliar word whetted Juliet's curiosity. "We can find out later. Anyway, take a look."

Brooke did so, but the screen showed only gibberish. "Fuck, should've known it's encrypted. Someone doesn't want just anyone seeing what's inside."

Behind them, Kate shifted in her seat. "Um, Brooke?"

Juliet jabbed her finger at the screen. "Grab it anyway! We'll figure it out later!"

"Brooke?"

"Fine, give me a sec!" Brooke punched in a string of commands. "Okay, downloading. Hell, might as well download the folder. Who knows what else we'll find, and–"

"Brooke."

"Sorry. Yeah, Kate?"

As one, Juliet and Brooke turned to Kate, who was pointing at the desktop. The screen was spewing a torrent of code, lines following one another in a rising flood.

"Shit." Brooke's eyes had gone saucer-wide behind her glasses.

"What?" said Juliet. "What's shit?"

"We must've triggered something in their telemetry." She whirled back to her keyboard. "It's fine–by the time they even start tracing, we'd have finished the download and–"

"Brooke," Kate piped up before a series of beeping noises erupted from the computer. "Is this normal?"

"I-it's fine," Brooke announced, a little too loudly. "It's my alarm setup. They're tracing and breached one of my PC hosts. Big deal, I've got a dozen more. We can finish the download, and–"

Another loud beep cut her off, and Kate backed away from the monitor as if it were accusing her. Brooke paled as the code crawled even faster down the screen.

"Brooke?" Juliet nudged her.

"Not now!" Brooke shoved her chair to her desktop and typed madly. "Juliet, stay there and tell me how much longer to finish copying!"

"O-okay." Juliet hunkered over the laptop. The timer read 2 minutes 23 seconds. "What do I do when it's done?"

"Type 'dc' then hit Enter." Brooke stared hard at the monitor as another beep erupted from it. "Three hosts down? What?"

Silence followed, broken every few seconds by a series of loud beeps.

"Fuck," said Brooke, fingers flying over the keyboard. "FUCK! How are you doing that? HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?!"

Off to the side, Kate had her head bowed and her hands folded in prayer. Juliet felt like doing the same now that Brooke had dissolved into panic mode. She never thought two minutes could stretch so long.

After some time, Brooke stopped typing and raised her head. "How much longer?"

"Fifteen seconds," Juliet answered.

"They'll fucking trace me."

"Ten seconds!"

They shared a glance. Juliet's finger hovered over the Enter key. One word from Brooke and she would disconnect.

Brooke stayed silent.

The timer hit zero. "Done!" Juliet shouted as she disconnected.

Brooke also entered a command before sinking her face into her hands. Kate and Juliet stared at her for a moment, letting her gather herself.

Eventually, Kate touched Brooke's shoulder. "Is...everything okay?"

Brooke raised her head. "They were–I shit you not–seconds from busting through that PC host in Arizona—my last line of defense. Far as I know, they didn't finish before we cut the connection and I bombed the host. I think...I think we're good."

"You sure?" Juliet asked.

"Positive." Brooke gave a weak smile as she flashed a V sign with her fingers. "I'm gonna have to apologize to my contact, but he's better than me at covering his tracks. We're both going to have to lie low for, like, months. Maybe."

"So we won't have to do that again?" asked Kate, a hopeful look on her face.

"I don't think we can if we tried," Brooke made a throwaway gesture to the laptop. "Security like that'll find all my exploits and lock them down. I don't even understand how they could trace me so fast." She got up and started to pace. "But we got the files, right?"

"Right." Juliet sighed and tried to soak in the relief. But she didn't miss the tension in Brooke's jaw nor the way she kept pacing. She's afraid, Juliet realized, which means we all should be too.

Trouble. She came looking for it and now here it was. For all that, Juliet hoped they got something good.

Max barely caught the sound of her own sigh as she looked out across her school's swimming pool. The water gleamed against the pale tiles, a perfect mirror to the cloudless mid-afternoon sky. So much blue.

She shared the pool with only three other people, a pair of girls cawing at each other from the shallow end and the bored lifeguard dragging his eyes up from his phone every few minutes to check on them. No one had noticed her.

Max couldn't stay long; she needed to be home in a couple of hours for an important Skype call. Kate had managed to contact Lulu, the youngest of the Storm Raven tribeswomen, and secure a Skype meeting for after Lulu's shift at the Reservation Center.

Max had never made a habit of visiting the pool—she was far too self-conscious of her body for that. But today, the thought of being in the water appealed to her. Perhaps because the place was mostly empty. Perhaps because she was feeling down and needed a change from her drab little bedroom.

Perhaps because, at the moment, this was the closest she could get to being in Arcadia Bay.

Part of it was pining—she couldn't go to Arcadia Bay this weekend because her grandparents were visiting from Ireland. Before that happened, she wanted to be someplace where she could be alone, so she could ask herself one thing:

Are my feelings real?

She skipped her usual toes-first entry; with a running start, she cannonballed into the water. Her flesh prickled at the cold, waking all her nerves and quieting her head. Ignoring the pressure in her ears, she unfurled her limbs and pushed down, down till she touched the white-tiled bottom of the pool.

In her mind, she was alone with Chloe in Blackwell's swimming pool, splashing each other, floating on their backs as they dreamed of a life beyond their hometown. Then the morning after, kissing her for the first time in her bedroom, tasting salt and cherries on her lips. The memory made her tremble.

I'm in love with Chloe Price.

Those words rang as true today as they had (will) six months from now. But there were other scenes intruding now, thoughts she couldn't stop if she tried.

Rachel, humming in her ear as she cut her hair. Her hazel eyes lighting up as she talked about art and photography. The delight on her face when Max took her picture. The weight of her head on Max's shoulder as they watched the lights come on in Arcadia Bay.

I'm in love with Rachel Amber.

The shock of that thought burned the last breath from her lungs. Max pushed off the floor, kicking until she burst through the surface. Gulping mouthfuls of air, she stared across the water in disbelief.

"I'm in love with Chloe Price," she said. "I'm in love with Rachel Amber." The statements together sounded insane. They also rang equally, astonishingly true.

The other girls were gawking at her now; one was giggling behind her hand. For once, Max didn't care.

Oh God. Both? BOTH? What the fuck's wrong with me? She flopped bonelessly on the water until she was level with the sky. Now that she had said it, there was no denying it—her feelings were more than real.

And while the admission brought her clarity, it also left her hollow, like she'd committed a crime. The only person she could confess this to was herself.

This isn't why I came back, she told herself, staring at the sky. Her mind rewound to the first moment she saw them together—Rachel taking Chloe's arm as they walked, looking like queens, like they ruled the world. They belong together—even I can see that. I lost my chance long ago when I left Chloe for Seattle, and again when I traded her for Arcadia Bay.

I'm always leaving, one way or another. I don't have the right to her. To either of them.

The only thing to do was pull her feelings into a stranglehold and not breathe a word. She loved them too much to risk their happiness.

Even if that happiness is an illusion? a small voice ventured.

"They get to decide that," Max said. "I'll support them until they figure it out. No matter what, I'll be their friend."

She let her eyes drift shut, but that didn't help. Behind her lids, she was still in Arcadia Bay, among the waves with Rachel and Chloe, caught between their arms, their eyes, their smiles.

At 5:30 PM, Max was sitting in her room and starting up Skype. Rachel popped in and greeted her with her usual radiant smile, but it vanished just as quickly.

"Max? Is something wrong?"

"Huh?" Max stared back, bewildered. "What do you mean?"

"It's just that...you had this look I've never seen before. Like you're sad but you're trying to hide it." Rachel's brows knitted in concern. "Max, did something happen?"

Max willed her jaw not to fall open. Oh Dog, I knew she was good at reading people, but reading me through a computer screen? Is that another superpower?

"I'm fine! Really, I'm good," was all Max could say. The silence that followed informed her Rachel knew she was lying.

Max shifted her gaze. It was already hard to look at her—the fall of her braid on her shoulder, the deepening curve of her lips, the flecks of brown standing out in her green eyes—every feature screamed for attention. Max found she hated keeping a secret from Rachel as much as she did from Chloe; it was another brick in the invisible wall she was building between her and them.

To distract her, Max asked, "Is Chloe there with you?"

"Oh, Chloe said she can't join," Rachel replied. "Her boss asked her to deliver something a client left behind at the shop. She told me to go ahead with the call." She peered closer at the screen. "Max, you know you can talk to me if something's bothering you, right? Anything at all. Like, um, a-are you mad at me?"

Shit, if I don't stop this now, she's gonna figure me out for sure.

"N-no, Rachel, I swear, we're cool. I'm just upset because, you know, because I can't visit this weekend."

"Yeah," Rachel sighed. "Yeah, it sucks you can't come. Chloe's been complaining about it non-stop since you told us. But hey, it's just one weekend." She paused, biting her lip. "That's all that's bothering you?"

"Yeah." Max nodded, lips twitching into a smile. "Please don't worry, okay?"

"...Okay, Max." Frowning, Rachel tugged at a lock of her hair and looked away. She seemed so alone and unsure that Max ached to hold her, say something to comfort her. But what could she say?

"Shall we call Lulu?" she offered. "Her shift must be ending by now."

When Rachel nodded, Max steeled herself and typed in the handle for the Reservation Center. She waited, her breath growing shallower as the Skype call rang on and on.

Finally, right when she thought it would fail to connect, another screen popped up beside theirs. Max's heart leaped as Lulu's face appeared, braided raven hair falling down one shoulder and looking exactly as she did when they first met by the lighthouse.

Wearing a terminally bored expression, Lulu looked straight at the camera and intoned, "Hello, you've reached the Confederated Tribes of Oregon Reservation Center, Tribal Affairs Department. Our hours are from 8 AM to 5:30 PM, Mondays to Fridays. I'm afraid we're closing now, so unless the issue can't wait..."

"Lulu?" Max asked. "You're Lulu, aren't you?"

The girl seemed to wake up at the mention of her name. She eyed Max closely. "Do I know you?"

"You don't," Max replied. "But I sort of know you. I'm Max Caulfield, by the way."

"Yeah, Kate told me you were going to call to talk about—" Lulu's gaze fell on Rachel. She leaned closer, her breath hitching.

"Hi, Lulu," Rachel said to fill in the sudden silence. "My name's—"

Before she could finish, Lulu turned to her left and shouted, "Mama! Gramma! Come quick!"

Off the side, an older, female voice said something in another language. Another voice said: "Your Gramma's right, Lulu, don't shout. We don't live here."

"Then why do you play bridge here every day? This is important! Come see—IT'S HER!"

"Who?" the older woman demanded. Seconds later, two more faces appeared alongside Lulu. Max took no time in recognizing them.

"Tuhudda," she breathed. "Ada."

The old woman peered at her, smiling tentatively. "Manahuu, young lady. And you are...?"

She fell silent when her gaze found Rachel. Ada's eyes flew wide open, her jaw falling slack.

"Tabi-paatusubaa, " Tuhudda breathed, "Sun's Daughter!" She made a gesture, briefly covering her eyes with her forearm. Ada followed suit. Only Lulu kept staring at the screen in abject wonder. Rachel shifted in her chair, unused to this kind of deference.

"You know me?" she asked.

"We do," breathed Ada. "We dreamed of you, many times. But we never expected or even hoped—"

"I did," Lulu proclaimed.

"Well, uh, thank you," Rachel said, "I'm glad we can have a chance to talk—"

"No." Tuhudda lowered her arm, a resigned look on her face. "I'm afraid this is as far as it goes. Lulu, stop the call."

Max's stomach lurched. "Wait, what?"

"Wait, WHAT!?" Lulu whirled to face her. "The Incarnate wants to talk to us and you—"

"They are not Numu. They wouldn't understand. Anything we tell them could bring harm."

"Or it could help!"

The two began to argue back and forth in their native tongue. Max found she couldn't get a word in, so was thankful when Rachel herself stepped up.

"Wait!" she cried, "Tuhudda, please. I know you must have good reasons for not wanting to be involved, but we really do need your help. Something's happening here in Arcadia Bay, something that has to do with Sean Prescott. And I have so many questions—"

"Rachel Amber," Tuhudda said, her tone softening as if she were speaking to a favorite grandchild, "it's wonderful to meet you, truly. A great honor. But please understand, we are bound by certain laws. This is the business of the puhadiipi— the Land itself. It is your province as Incarnate. We can't interfere."

"But I don't even know what an Incarnate is! Or what I'm supposed to do with these powers! If you know—"

"You embody the Land. You are the Land. Nothing is beyond you—and I may already have said too much."

Finally, Max couldn't take it anymore. "But she dies!" she blurted out. "She dies in the future—that's why you sent me back to stop it!"

Silence reigned, echoed by three thunderstruck faces. "What did you say?" asked Ada.

"My name is Max Caulfield and I can travel through time," Max continued. "A-at least, I could before. In my future, Nathan Prescott kills Rachel. Somehow because of that, a storm destroys Arcadia Bay. Unless we can stop it, that might still happen six months from now!"

"That's...that's impossible," Tuhudda murmured. "You're from the future?"

"I can create tornadoes, harden water, and summon fire," Rachel cut in. "How hard could it be to believe Max can rewind time?"

"Another gift from the Land," Ada said. "But...why?"

"I don't know, but it was—it was you who found me," Max continued. "You told me I could save everyone if I saved Rachel. You performed a ritual that sent me here."

Lulu all but leaped off her seat. "Wait—are you saying we helped you? We already interfered?" When Max nodded, Lulu shot her grandmother a smug smile.

Tuhudda pointedly ignored her. "Tell me," she said, gesturing with her hand. "All you know."

Max related what happened in her future and the events of the Dark Room, then Rachel took over and explained what they found in the forest. At the mention of the construction site, all three women's faces darkened.

"How dare he," Ada muttered, shaking her head. "Breaking his own people's laws like they're playthings."

"What is this Theater?" Rachel asked. "What is it used for?"

Tuhudda paused. "We're not sure," she admitted.

Ada said, "We've never dreamed of it. We would have, if it were important."

"Then we need to see it for ourselves," Lulu concluded. "If we have visual evidence—"

"Mu'a," Tuhudda said in a warning tone.

"Isn't it obvious that's what we have to do?" Lulu said, whirling to her grandmother again. "Our tribe may have left Arcadia, but sacred land remains sacred and desecration is still desecration. If we don't fight back, who will?"

The old woman shook her head, gray tresses swaying; it concerned Max that the lines of her face had grown stark with shadows. But Tuhudda said, "We shall see this place Prescott has built. If this is indeed serious, if it warrants our help, then we will extend what help we can."

"Send me your number," Lulu said to Max. "The reservation doesn't have internet except here in the Center, but at least I can keep us connected."

Max typed her and Rachel's number in the chat. "Is there anything you can tell us now?" Max asked. "Something that can help?"

"Beware of Prescott," said Lulu, glowering. "Don't let him be aware of you and never trust his word."

"If you must fight," Ada added, "don't fight alone."

Tuhudda said nothing for a moment; she seemed to be gazing at something distant, as though the screen was a well without a bottom. "Stay away from the Tall Man," she finally intoned. "Do not speak to the Smiling Woman."

"I—who?" Max leaned closer. "Who are they? Do we know them?"

The old woman shook her head. "They are strangers from another place. I've dreamed of them. You will know them when you see them, and when you do, you must take extra care. In the meantime..." She nodded to Lulu. "We'll make arrangements to visit Arcadia Bay. It might take us some time, but we'll let you know when we're on our way."

The women said their goodbyes and dropped from the call, leaving Max and Rachel alone.

"Well," breathed Rachel, "that was..."

"Sort of informative, sort of ominous," Max concluded, trying to shake her apprehension from Tuhudda's warning. "But they're coming to Arcadia, at least. And Lulu's really keen on helping. Rachel, this sounds like a win."

Rachel grinned. "That's what I like about you, Max. The way you get people on our side."

"It's, um, more your talent than mine—"

"Max, you're killing me here."

"Okay, okay! Thanks, Rachel. I accept the compliment." They both burst out laughing, allowing the relief to seep in. They were getting help, finally, some answers to all this craziness.

Rachel's smile faded a bit. "I'm really gonna miss you this weekend, Max."

"Same. I'll call, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." She reached for something off to the side. "Wanna see something cool?"

Max's eyes popped open as Rachel pulled a corkboard onto her lap. It was covered with pictures—the shots she took of Chloe and Rachel that night on the beach. That night. Her pulse quickened, and a lump formed in her throat.

"I keep it on my desk to look at," gushed Rachel. "Gives me a dopamine fix every time."

"T-that's pretty cool." Max produced a smile and wondered exactly how red her face was. It was easy to feel proud and flattered, knowing that Rachel keeps something she made close by to look at every day. But it was that night and it was hard not to think about seeing them together on the sand—

Her eyes darted to Rachel's face to find the blonde studying her intently. Max forced herself to keep smiling. "Really cool."

"It is," Rachel said. She put the corkboard away, her gaze pensive. "I think I better go," she said. "Got to go talk to Brooke and Juliet, see what they dug up from the hack."

"Okay. Clue me in when you're done?"

"Call me later and I will."

After their goodbyes, Max put her laptop to sleep and flopped face down on her bed. After a minute, her phone dinged. She pulled it out of her pocket to find a message from Rachel.

[05/22 5:48 PM] [RA]

Hope to see you back here soon, Maxie. Let's talk then, k? XO

Oh God, sure, let's talk about how much I'm fucking in love with you. Groaning, Max dropped her head onto her pillow as she realized she had a snowball's chance in hell of keeping that a secret. Not from Rachel.

Burn that bridge when we get there, she admonished herself. I gotta tell Chloe about what we learned. She fired off a message to Chloe, asking if she could call, then buried her face in the pillow again.

It was twilight when she next opened her eyes. Rubbing them, she sat up and listened. Her mom was puttering around downstairs, talking to someone on the phone. Probably Grandpa making last-minute plans for the weekend.

She checked her phone and found Chloe had responded: Call me in a couple of hours. Shit, it's past 8! Max hit the call button and waited.

Strangely, Chloe took her time answering. She would normally would in three rings or less.

By the tenth ring, Chloe did pick up. "Hey, Max," she grunted.

"Hey Chloe!" Max glowed inside to hear her voice again, though it sounded oddly strained. "Rachel said you were delivering something. Are you back? Whatcha up to?"

"Who, me? Nothing much, just heading home—ah shit." There was a rustling noise, like she dropped something and bent to pick it up. "Sorry, bit busy here. Driving and stuff."

That's funny, Max thought, frowning. I don't hear her truck.

"Chloe? Where are you?"

"Where? That's...wait up." A dog started barking in the background. "So uh, yeah, I exaggerated the part about driving home. I mean, I was on my way. Just got a little sidetracked."

"Okay..." Uncertainty flooded Max. The barking bothered her; it seemed too loud, too sharp in her head. "So what're you doing?"

"I'm going to solve all our problems, Max," Chloe replied, the pride clear in her voice. "All in one go. But I'm gonna need both hands, so I'mma have to call you back, okay? Later!"

"Chloe wait! I—" but her friend had already dropped the call. Max sat staring at her phone for a long minute, thinking about what she'd heard.

She stood and paced around her room. Chloe said she'd stopped somewhere on the way home; it was clearly was something unplanned. Something that would solve our problems, she'd said.

And that dog.

A thrill of fear rattled down her spine. Oh shit, no. SHIT.

Heart thrumming, breath going shallow, she grabbed her phone and called Chloe again. No answer. She sent a flurry of messages, each less than a minute apart:

Chloe, please pick up

Whatever you're doing you have to stop

Chloe I swear to God if you dont answer

CHLOE!

Max waited for a reply, the whole while walking in a rapid circle around her room. When none came, she gave up and called Rachel.

"Hey, Maxie!" She could hear the smile in Rachel's voice. Rock music blared in the background, the bass hammering along with her heart. "I'm with Jules, Kate, and Dana now, we're having an impromptu pizza party in Dana's room—"

"Rachel, listen to me." Max stopped by her window, staring out as the city lights came on. "I just called Chloe. I think she's trying to break into Frank's RV. She's trying to steal his logbook!"

There was a loud shuffling noise, followed by the slam of a door that cut out the music. Rachel came back on, her tone terse and sober. "Do you know where she is?"

"No." Max felt a bullet of cold sweat drip from her hairline. "All I heard was Pompidou barking. Do you know where Frank could be?"

"I've some idea. Chloe said the client was from Rockaway. That's north of here. I just need to follow the road."

"Rachel, please be careful. Take care of Chloe."

"I swear I will." The last thing Max heard before the call dropped was the howl of rushing wind. She prayed no one would look up to see Rachel flying through the night sky.

Max sat on her bed, staring down at her phone. All the feeling was draining from her fingertips, and her stomach felt like it had cemented itself shut. When she couldn't stand it anymore, she stood and walked to her window to look out at the city again. All she wanted was to hear from Rachel and Chloe, to know they're both okay, but it probably wasn't a good idea to distract them now.

Instead, she forced herself to remember her lessons on calming down. Deep breaths, count of four. Name four things you can see. Three things you can hear.

She stared at the phone on her desk, willing it to ring, waiting for the chance to be useful to someone she cared about.

Two things you can smell. One thing you can touch.

She repeated this again and again; it made time stretch toward eternity. Then, when she felt like she could function again, her phone rang.

The screen showed Chloe's face, winking and grinning saucily at the camera; the red answer button below glowed like a warning sign.

Hands trembling, a painful lump forming in her throat, Max picked up the call.