The Geek Revolution ✓

37 | debt

WHATEVER I'M FEELING, KYLER MUST be feeling tenfold.

I hear him exhale shakily, but other than that, he hasn't moved or made a sound. I glance over my shoulder at him, his face cutting a tragic silhouette in profile. Looking at Kyler is heartbreaking.

The edges of his eyes are cloudy and shimmering, cheeks completely drained of colour and lips trembling. It's only money that's being stolen, but the implications of what Brittany's telling Terrence to do is much more than a handful of loose change.

That money is Kyler's last shot at saving the newspaper he's nurtured for years. He loves being editor, he loves writing and showing people what the downfalls and beauties of being human are. The absence of his hard-earned donations could break him.

But there's not much Kyler can do to stop it, unless he plans to follow Terrence around every day for the rest of the year. Even then, he can only do so much. Locks can be picked, and Brittany will always find some other way to get the money if Terrence is stalled. We both know this.

Reece's pristine car flashes in my mind, with it the memories of a stressful, illuminating exchange. He mentioned Brittany taking a break from the Monarchy, needing to gather her strength, and that we should make the most of the reprieve. Terrence essentially said the same thing.

With things as they are, the ceasefire must have ended. It wouldn't have lasted long, anyway. It was incredibly lucky it lasted as long as it did. Brittany must have needed a long rest, and it clearly paid off. She looks invincible and colder than ever. I'm not afraid, just sad that she struck back when the Chronicle was gaining traction.

I suppose I should be grateful that Kyler managed to get out what successful editions of the paper that he did, but I'm disheartened that he couldn't publish more.

Terrence's voice drifts around the corner. "No."

"No?" Brittany takes a measured step towards him. I've been the subject of her petrifying glare many a time, the shivers that slither down one's bones and the dizzying scent of her saccharine perfume. "Now Terrence, I think you're forgetting where your place is. Remember, I was the one who—"

"Okay!" Terrence shouts. His head drops the second after, hands raising to rub his temple like the sudden volume brought on a headache. "I'll do it. Is this all you need?"

"For now."

Kyler and I sense that Madison and Brittany are done with the press room. Taking quiet steps, we rush deeper into the unlit hallway, taking refuge in the doorway of a science classroom. As soon as our backs press against the cold wood, clicking heels and shuffling footsteps walk past where we were seconds ago. Once the air falls still and silent, Kyler pulls me out into the corridor.

"We have to stop them."

"Yeah, didn't someone tell them?" I agree, "Stealing is fucking wrong."

We both jolt when a voice comes from behind us, at the mouth of the hall. "Half an hour."

Looking like the dead freshly arisen, Terrence's tall frame casts a long shadow towards where Kyler and I stand. Confused, I survey his face, wondering if he's telling us the amount of sleep he's gotten in the past few days.

It certainly looks like he's only slept half an hour.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Kyler bitterly asks.

"You have half an hour to get as much money out as you can, before I come around and take what's left."

The only thing to do is stare in shock. In the back of my mind, I wonder if this is a trick Brittany told him to play on us, so we'll run right into her clutches. Nowadays, I can't help but think that all acts of kindness must stem from a selfish, ulterior motive. The Monarchy makes me lose all faith in humanity.