CHAPTER 27- THE LOOPHOLE
The orange light of the late afternoon was beginning to fade, leaving my room in a cold, grey dimness. I sat on my bed, staring at the floor, my mind churning.
The loophole, I thought, my fingers digging into the duvet. There has to be a loophole.
Ashley's demand was simple: stay away from Zack, or the video goes public. She wanted to sever the connection, to make me a ghost in his life so she could step into the light. But if I completely vanished, she won. If I stayed hidden in this room, I had no way to fight back, no way to get close enough to her phone or her cloud storage to delete that footage.
To beat her, I had to stay in the game. I had to maintain the relationship with Zack, but I had to do it in the shadows, where her cameras and her "V" eyes couldn't reach.
But how? I wondered, a knot forming in my stomach. Every time we're together, she's watching. Every time he texts, she's hovering.
The muffled sound of my mother's voice drifted up from the kitchen again. She was still on the phone, laughing at something the person on the other end said.
"Well, if you don't tell him, he'll never know, will he?" my mom said, her voice light and teasing. "Sometimes a phone call is the only way to keep a secret these days."
I froze. My pulse quickened, a steady thump-thump against my ribs.
If you don't tell him, she'll never know.
That was it. Ashley could follow me at school. She could watch the parking lot. She could even park her car outside my house. But she couldn't be inside the signal. She couldn't see the airwaves. If I spoke to Zack over the phone—really spoke to him, away from the prying eyes of the hallways—she wouldn't have a single photo to use against me.
I checked the time. 4:15 p.m.
Zack would be at the gym now. It was his ritual after school, a place where he went to blow off steam, usually leaving his phone in his locker or on a bench while he ran the laps. It was the one place where Ashley wouldn't be draped over his shoulder, and the one time he'd be alone with his thoughts.
My hands were shaking as I reached for my phone. I didn't text him. A text was a paper trail. A text could be screenshotted.
I hit the call button.
The ringing sound felt like it was echoing through my entire body. One ring. Two. My heart was a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Pick up, Zack. Please, just pick up.
The phone clicked, and the background noise of the gym—the rhythmic clank of iron and the muffled beat of a speaker—flooded my ear. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I thought it might bruise.
"Jane?" Zack's voice was strained, breathless from a workout. "What is it?"
He sounded different. Not the warm, protective guy from the arcade, but someone distant. Someone who had spent a whole day wondering why the person he cared about had suddenly turned into a ghost.
"Hi, Zack," I whispered, my voice steadier than I felt. I could hear his heavy breathing on the other end. "Wow... sounds like you're training hard."
"Yeah," he grunted, and I heard the heavy thud of weights hitting the rubber mat. "I just lifted 87kg."
"87kg? I'm impressed." I tried to keep my tone light, like we were still those two people in the car before the world fell apart.
"Are you?" There was a edge to his voice, a sharpness I hadn't heard before. He blew out a long breath. "So, why didn't you come to school? I waited by your locker. I waited after the final bell."
"I'm sick, Zack. That's it." It was the easiest lie to tell, but it tasted like ash.
"Right. Sick." He sounded like he wanted to believe me, but the silence from earlier was still hanging between us. "You could have texted, Jane. I thought... I didn't know what to think."
I closed my eyes, leaning my forehead against the cool glass of my window. "I'm sorry. I just needed to be alone." I paused, my grip tightening on the phone. "But I saw something. I saw the post Ashley put up. The one with you two."
There was a long silence on the other end. I could hear the distant squeak of sneakers on the gym floor.
"What post?" Zack asked, his voice genuinely confused.
"The one from an hour ago. The caption... it said 'Mine.' With a heart." I felt the sting of tears again, but I shoved them back. "Everyone is talking about it, Zack. Everyone thinks you two are..."
"I haven't even looked at my phone since I got here," he snapped, but the anger wasn't directed at me this time. I heard him rummaging through a gym bag, the rustle of fabric loud over the line. "What is she doing?"
"Go and see for yourself," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "See what she's telling the world while I'm 'sick' at home."
I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end. The line stayed open, but neither of us spoke. I was terrified of what he'd say next. If he didn't take it down, if he let her keep that "Mine" tag on his life, then Ashley had already won.
The silence on the other end of the line was heavy, broken only by the distant, rhythmic thud of a punching bag in the background. I held my breath, my heart mirroring that dull thumping sound.
"What the...?" Zack's voice finally broke through, sharp and jagged with disbelief. I could hear the frantic tapping of his fingers on his screen as he finally looked at the post. "When did she even take this? What the heck is she doing?"
"Zack?" I whispered, my hand gripping the phone so tight my knuckles ached.
"It's okay, Jane," he said, though his voice was far from okay. It was tight, strained with a sudden realization. "I'll let it slide for now. I'll deal with her."
"What do you mean, 'let it slide'?" I asked, a cold knot forming in my stomach. "She's telling the whole school you belong to her. She's claiming you, Zack."
There was a long, shaky exhale on his end. I heard him sit down on a wooden bench, the creak of the wood loud over the line.
"I was used to being 'someone's' once," he said, his voice dropping to a low, hollow register. "Being told I belonged to them. Being a prize instead of a person."
The air left my lungs in a sharp hiss. I knew exactly who he was talking about. He was talking about me. He was talking about the way I had held onto him, the way I had marked my territory back when we were happy, before the "V" messages and the bathroom threats turned everything into a minefield.
"Oh..." I breathed out.
"Oh," I said again, the sound coming out higher, a soft, broken note of realization.
"Oh," I whispered a third time, the sound dropping into a low, mournful vibration.
Each "oh" sounded different—the first was a shock, the second was a sting of guilt, and the third was the crushing weight of knowing that by pushing him away now, I was making him feel exactly like he was back when he was just a trophy for Ashley to win. I had tried to protect him, but all I had done was leave him standing in a vacuum, waiting for someone—anyone—to claim him.
"Jane?" Zack asked, his voice softer now, searching for me through the static. "Are you still there?"
I bit my lip, the tears finally spilling over. I couldn't tell him the truth, but I couldn't let him believe he was just a pawn in Ashley's game either.
"I'm here," I choked out. "I'm still here, Zack."
"So," Zack's voice dropped, the background noise of the gym fading as he moved into a quieter corner of the locker room. "Will you come tomorrow? I don't want to spend another day looking at an empty desk."
I squeezed my eyes shut, picturing him standing there among the rows of lockers, still breathless from the weights, waiting for an answer I wasn't sure I could give. But the "loophole" was working. As long as we were on this phone call, Ashley was blind.
"Yes," I whispered, the word feeling like a vow. "I'll be there."
"Good," he breathed, and I could almost hear the tension leave his shoulders. "I missed you today, Jane. Even if it was just one day."
A wave of warmth traveled through me, followed immediately by the cold reminder of the Instagram post. I couldn't let him stay in the dark, and I couldn't let our only connection be a voice in my ear. I needed to see him—really see him—to know if he was okay.
"But Zack," I added quickly, my heart racing, "let's talk more tonight. A video call. Maybe around 9 p.m.?"
There was a brief pause on the other end, the silence stretching out between us.
"9 p.m.," he repeated, his voice low and steady. "I'll be waiting. Don't go 'sick' on me again, Jane."
"I won't," I promised.
I hung up the phone and stared at the dark screen. 9 p.m. was hours away, but for the first time since the bathroom incident, I didn't feel like a victim waiting for the next blow. I was taking a risk. A video call was intimate; it was a record; it was exactly what Ashley had forbidden.
But it was also the only way to prove to Zack—and to myself—that he wasn't just "mine" or "hers." He was a person, and I was going to fight for him, even if I had to do it from the shadows.
I spent the next few hours watching the clock, the minutes dragging like lead. I checked Ashley's Instagram one last time. The post was still there, the "Mine" caption gathering more likes by the second. She was celebrating a victory she hadn't earned yet.
As the house grew quiet and my clock finally ticked toward 9:00, I sat at my desk and adjusted my laptop. My room was dim, lit only by a small lamp, but I didn't care. I reached for my phone, my fingers hovering over the FaceTime icon.
This was the loophole. This was the trail she couldn't see.
The red numbers on my alarm clock finally ticked over to 9:00 p.m. My room was a sanctuary of shadows, lit only by the soft glow of my desk lamp. My palms were damp as I hit the FaceTime icon. The ringing felt like a countdown.
Click.
The screen flickered to life, and my breath hitched. Zack had picked up, but he was clearly still in his post-workout haze. He had the phone resting right on his abs, the camera angled upward toward himself, but because of the way he was sitting, his chest was so prominent that it almost entirely blocked his face from the view. I was staring at the sharp, defined lines of his torso, his skin still slightly flushed from the gym.
"Zack... I can't exactly see your face," I murmured, my face heating up instantly. "Your chest is... kind of in the way."
"Sorry, Jane," he muttered. I heard the rustle of fabric as he adjusted, but he only shifted the phone slightly higher, now resting it against his pectoral muscles. His voice sounded deep and resonant, vibrating through the speaker as if he were speaking right against me. "So, tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Tell me about yesterday. You said you were busy, that you had work. You seemed... panicked."
My heart skipped a beat. Red-handed. I hadn't prepared a solid alibi for the moment I'd bolted away from him at the school gates. "Oh, yesterday... yesterday was... I mean, my mom asked me to come home quickly."
"For what?" Zack asked, his tone curious but steady.
"For... I mean, she needed something," I stammered, my brain racing to fill the silence. "She asked me to take care of a relative's baby. I had to help her out."
"Oh," Zack said, and I could hear a hint of a smile in his voice. "So you were babysitting?"
"Yes," I replied, leaning back into my chair, trying to sound convincing. "That's why I couldn't stay. It was a family thing."
"Well," Zack said, and finally, he tilted the camera up properly so I could see his eyes. They were bright, reflecting the light from his own room. "Looks like we have something in common."
I tilted my head. "What's in common?"
Before he could answer, a high-pitched voice chirped from somewhere behind him. "Zack! Who are you talking to? Is it a girl?"
A nine-year-old girl with messy hair and a mischievous grin suddenly popped into the frame, leaning over his shoulder to stare into the camera. She looked exactly like a miniature, female version of him.
Zack didn't push her away. Instead, he chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Come and see for yourself, Lily."
Lily leaned in closer to the camera, her eyes wide as she examined the screen. A mischievous grin spread across her face, mirroring the same dimples I'd seen on Zack a thousand times.
"Is she your girlfriend?" Lily chirped, her voice full of nine-year-old wonder. "She's really beautiful, Zack!"
I felt the heat rush to my cheeks instantly, turning my face a deep shade of crimson. I stared at my own small window in the corner of the screen, wishing I'd at least brushed my hair before calling.
"No, Lily," Zack muttered, though I caught the way his eyes flickered toward me for a split second before he looked back at his sister. "She's a friend of mine. Just a friend."
The word "friend" stung a little, even though I knew it was the safest thing for him to say—especially with a kid around who probably didn't know how to keep a secret from their parents.
"Oh," Lily said, sounding slightly disappointed, but she didn't lose her energy. She waved a small hand at the camera. "Hi!"
"Hi, Lily," I said, forced a soft smile. Her energy was infectious, a sharp contrast to the suffocating silence of my room. "I'm Jane."
"I'm Lily! Are you the one who was babysitting today?" she asked, her head tilting curiously. "Zack said you were busy with a baby."
I swallowed hard, the lie from five minutes ago coming back to haunt me. "Yeah. My... my relative's baby. It was a long day."
"I'm a big girl, so I don't need a babysitter," Lily declared proudly, puffing out her chest. "But Zack has to watch me when Mom is out. He's okay at it, but he makes terrible grilled cheese."
Zack let out a dry laugh, finally pulling the phone back so I could see his full face. He looked more relaxed than I'd seen him all week, the harsh lines of stress from the gym replaced by the simple, easy role of a big brother.
"Hey, my grilled cheese is legendary," he protested, nudging her gently with his shoulder. "Go finish your homework, Lil. I'll be down in a minute."
"Fine," she huffed, but she gave me one last wave. "Bye, Jane! Come over and play sometime!"
She disappeared from the frame, her footsteps receding down the hallway. The silence that followed was different than before—it was softer, more intimate.
"Sorry about her," Zack said, leaning his head back against his headboard. "She has no filter."
"It's okay," I whispered. "She's sweet. She looks just like you."
"Yeah, unfortunately for her," he joked, but his expression quickly turned serious again. He looked at me through the screen, his gaze searching. "So... tomorrow. You're really coming back?"
The warmth from seeing Lily evaporated as Zack's expression shifted. He leaned closer to the camera, his brow furrowing in a way that made my stomach drop.
"Jane," he said, his voice dropping into a serious, guarded tone. "There's something else. Ashley... she's been texting me all evening. Not just about the post. She was asking me where exactly you live. She said she wanted to 'drop off some notes' since you were sick, but the way she asked... it felt weird."
I gripped the edge of my desk, my knuckles turning white. Ashley didn't want to bring me notes. She wanted to mark her territory. She wanted to show me that even my home wasn't a sanctuary. If she showed up here, with that video on her phone and my mom in the next room, the "Checkmate" would be final.
"I'll be there tomorrow, Zack," I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling. "I'm coming back. Don't worry about the address. Just... don't give it to her."
Zack ran a hand through his damp hair, looking troubled. "I didn't. But Jane, if she's supposed to be your best friend, why is she asking me these questions? Why doesn't she just text you and ask? It's like she's tracking you."
The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. My "BFF" was the one who had turned my life into a horror movie, but I couldn't tell him that. Not yet. Not while he was sitting in his bedroom with his little sister just a hallway away.
"Don't worry about it, Zack," I said, forcing a small, tight smile that didn't reach my eyes. "She's just... being Ashley. You know how she is. She likes to be in control of everything."
"I do know," Zack muttered, his gaze lingering on me through the screen. "That's exactly what worries me."
We sat in silence for a moment, the digital hum of the call the only sound between us. I looked at him—the messy hair, the honest eyes, the way he looked like he wanted to reach through the screen and pull me out of whatever hole I was hiding in.
"I have to go," I whispered. "I need to get some sleep if I'm going to face the music tomorrow."
"Okay," Zack said softly. "9:00 a.m. at the lockers. Don't be late."
"I won't."
I ended the call, and the room plunged back into darkness. The loophole had worked for tonight, but tomorrow the screen would be gone. There would be no more "FaceTime" safety. It would just be me, Zack, and the girl who was currently telling the world he was hers.
I walked over to my window and looked out at the street. A pair of headlights cruised slowly past my house, the engine a low, predatory growl before disappearing around the corner.
Was it a neighbor? Or was Ashley already looking for the house with the girl who dared to talk back?