Amy Ross - Jek/Hyde

“Matt Klein’s kegger,” she says. “A couple of weeks back. Did you hear what happened to Natalie?”

I hesitate. I hate to admit I had anything to do with that kind of mindless gossip, but playing dumb won’t help. “I heard something about it, yeah,” I say with a nod.

“Look, this is kind of a big secret and I know Natalie wouldn’t want me talking to anyone about it, but there’s something weird going on and I think...I think someone should know.” She pauses. “I think Jek should know. I’m just trying to do the right thing.”

“I don’t understand. Jek wasn’t even at that party. What’s it got to do with him?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” she says. “The thing is, I never knew Jek’s real name before, but when Steve said it just now it sounded familiar. And I realized, I remembered it from Klein’s party. Natalie was really upset that night, so I took her outside to talk. I wanted her to tell me what happened, and if we needed to call the cops or go to the hospital and get a rape kit. But that guy, Hyde, he followed us out.” She shudders at the memory. “I didn’t even know what had happened between them, but he gave me a bad vibe. Creepy-looking, you know? I don’t know why she’d want to mess around with someone like that. Anyway, he called after Natalie, telling her to be reasonable, to let it drop. I told him to fuck off, but he ignored me. He just looked at Natalie and said, ‘Name your price.’”

“What?” I say, genuinely shocked. I still have no idea what this has to do with Jek, but I’m starting to have very bad feelings toward this guy Hyde. “He just...just like that? He offered to buy her off?”

“I couldn’t believe it, either. I started to tell him exactly where he could put his dirty money, but Natalie stopped me.” Maia looks down at her shoes, then glances up again. “It sounds bad,” she says. “I know. I didn’t want to believe Natalie would accept cash over something like this, but she has a point. Who’s going to believe a brown girl over a white boy when it comes to rape? You know how it goes—everyone’ll say, oh, that poor boy made one mistake and now she’s ruining his life.”

“A white boy?” I think back to Camila’s description of Hyde. “I heard he was Asian or something.”

Maia shrugs. “Looked white to me. Anyway, Natalie’s father’s been sick a lot, and her uncle, too, from the pesticides they work with. So they haven’t been able to work lately and they have all kinds of medical bills...”

“It’s okay,” I assure her, thinking of similar situations in my own family. “I understand.” Health insurance for the laborers at London Chem is a joke, and of course the company always denies that the chemicals are harmful. But it’s not like anyone has the cash for a lawyer.

Maia nods. “So, Natalie, she...she told him her price. And it wasn’t low. I thought for sure he’d drop his offer or try to bargain, but he didn’t even blink. He just took out his phone. He said all he needed was her app info, and he’d transfer it right away.”

“And she accepted the cash?”

“It was a lot of money.”

“I guess that explains why the story died,” I say, half to myself. “But I still don’t see what any of this has to do with Jek.”

“Because,” says Maia, “the name on the account that sent the money wasn’t Hyde. It was Jayesh Emerson Kapoor.”

I stare at her in the dim light of the supply closet, trying to parse what she’s telling me. “Are you sure?” I say. “That’s not possible.”

“That was the name,” she says firmly.

“Jek,” I say softly to myself. “What the hell? How’d he get access to Jek’s account?”

“That’s what I’m wondering. And I don’t want to stir up drama for Natalie if I can avoid it, but I’m worried for her. Worried that if Hyde hacked into Jek’s account or something, the money’s going to disappear and she’ll wind up with nothing. I wouldn’t put it past him.” She shakes her head in disgust. “Has Jek mentioned anything about any identity theft?”

“Not to me, but...we haven’t exactly been close lately.”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Lulu? You get lost in there?” It’s Danny. Shit, I almost forgot I’m supposed to be in class right now.

I put my hand on the doorknob, but at the last second I turn back to Maia.

“Thanks for letting me know about this. You’re right, there’s definitely something strange going on. I’ll talk to Jek about it as soon as I can.”

Assuming I can get him to talk to me.

CHAPTER 3

I send a quick text to Jek on my way back to the lab bench, telling him I need to talk soon.

I’m not exactly surprised when the school day draws to a close with no reply.

Even at the best of times, Jek’s never been great about responding to texts, calls or any other method of communication. It’s frustrating, but it’s just part of his character. Even as I remind myself of this, I can’t help thinking back to what I told Maia in the supply room: We’re not exactly close these days. I surprised myself a little when I said it—I’ve never expressed that thought out loud before, though I have to admit that it’s not the first time I’ve thought it. Is it true? Or am I reading into things?

Like any well-trained scientist, I force myself to consider the evidence objectively. I don’t see Jek as much as I used to, but we’re both pretty busy with school and everything. Even though we’re both in the science track, our schedules are totally different because he does mostly chemistry, and my focus is on computing. He hardly responds to my texts and messages, but that’s not outside the realm of normal for him. I can’t remember us having any big fight recently. I worry all the time that my crush on him has made him uncomfortable, but I do try to be discreet, and if he’s put off by it, he’s never let on.

Results: inconclusive. Researcher is too close to the subject to remain objective in her analysis. As usual.

Maia’s story about Hyde has at least given me a good excuse to talk with Jek. If he’s not going to answer my urgent texts, I really have no choice but to go to his house and make him listen to me, face-to-face. If it’s true that Jek’s name was on that receipt, then this guy Hyde could be running some kind of scam: hacking, identity theft or maybe something even worse. Jek’s not great with that kind of computer stuff—if it wasn’t for me, he’d leave all his databases unprotected and vulnerable to attacks.

* * *

I pull up outside Jek’s house and notice that shadows are gathering on the columns and gables of the sprawling houses on this side of town. It’s around 5:00 p.m. and sunset is almost an hour off, but the sky is already low and threatening, and lights are coming on across the neighborhood to ward off the darkness of an encroaching storm—a reminder that London’s sunny, warm season has truly ended and we’ll be in the thick of winter soon.

When I was a kid, the winters in London were snowy and bright. I’d wake up to the whole countryside under a smooth white blanket, and Jek and I would go out and pelt each other with snowballs as the sun sparkled against the landscape. We haven’t had a winter like that in years, though. Instead, November to March brings nothing but a dark, gritty rain and heavy pea soup fogs that have an almost brownish cast to them. Some people say this is all part of some top secret London Chem experiment gone wrong, but others say it’s just a normal part of the same global warming that’s affecting everyone. Either way, it will be months before we see real sunshine again.

Up on the hill above Jek’s house, the curving structures of Donnelly and Lonsanto are barely visible, their reflective surfaces blending in with the roiling clouds. I step out of the car and pull my jacket tight against a sharp wind that rattles dead leaves still clinging to the once-lush trees. I’m still not entirely used to visiting Jek here. Up until last year, he lived with his mom, Puloma, off Main Street in a smallish condo cozily decorated in a hodgepodge of styles: posters for old rock shows mixed with tin-and-brass trinkets, colorful silk cushions tossed over rickety chairs and benches. Puloma hired my mom as her cleaning lady back when they first moved to town, and I used to play with Jek while our moms worked—that’s how we became friends. I still remember waking up there after sleepovers, his mom making us breakfast of masala dosa while we watched cartoons.