“Yes?” He flashed me a faint smile, his eyes glazed like he’d been lost in thought instead of catatonic.
“What just happened?”
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t remember? “You spaced out and weren’t responding.”
“That’s silly. I got burned by my coffee is all.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What are you working on this morning?”
“The adoption fair footage.” Had he been that spaced out? Was this something the blond witch had done to him? “It’s rolling on the screen right now.”
“Oh, sure, right.”
He looked confused, but perfectly fine. It made me feel a touch better. Hopefully that meant I hadn’t caused him permanent brain damage by pressing against his magical programming.
Voices floated in from the hall—Fletcher from accounting, and Jasmine. They paused by the door.
Fresh witnesses, exactly what I needed. Well, Jasmine would be helpful. Fletcher was too sarcastic for me to interact with him voluntarily.
“Hey, Jasmine,” I called.
She popped her head through the door and waved, her green hair swaying across her face like avocado curtains. “Hey. One sec.”
While they finished their chat, I reset the footage.
Jasmine would see the zombie rodent. She’d insist on airing the footage so the entire city could see. Then, with the power of social media, it would spread across an unsuspecting world.
Everyone would see the footage the witches had warned us to delete, putting me first in line to face the witches’ wrath. They could raise the dead, infiltrate dreams, and magically program a person’s brain to malfunction.
And that’s when they weren’t even mad.
Was I about to make a huge mistake?
As the first frame waited, innocently frozen on the screen, Albert took his seat beside me.
He folded his hands on his stomach and relaxed into the chair.
His face was sickly pale, like watching the video had seeped his color away.
Yet he stared at that first frame like he was ready and waiting to watch it all over again.
I could make up an excuse to get him out of the room. It would remedy the current situation. But it would do nothing to shield Albert from seeing the video again out in the wild.
“I’m ready now.” Jasmine appeared behind us, chipper and smiling, and totally unaware of the gravity of what I was about to show her. “What’s up?”
I opened my mouth to tell her. All I had to say was two little words— watch this —and press the mouse button. Heck, I could skip speaking at all.
But my finger hovered in the air above the mouse, not clicking. My mouth hung open, not speaking.
Albert’s eye twitched.
A lump formed in my throat. I shut my mouth. I pulled my hand away from the mouse.
“Just wanted to say thank you.” I smiled like everything was completely normal. “Albert got burned and your aloe was a lifesaver.”
“Feels better already,” Albert said.
Jasmine’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. “That’s so great. I told you guys it would be useful.”
I nodded. “You were right.”
“Tell me about the burn.” Jasmine touched Albert’s shoulder.
“I swear I have the worst luck.” He turned his wrist up to show her the red marks. “Spilled my coffee all over my arm.”
Jasmine cringed. “Ouch. Happens to the best of us. But you should try one of those lids with the sliding close top to make it spill-proof. And you know what’s perfect for calming the jitters that cause spills in the first place?”
“What’s that?” he asked in a tone that meant he was humoring her.
“Lemon balm.” Jasmine waved Albert over to her desktop garden. “It’s as good as mint for digestion. Take a few leaves for your tea….”
As Jasmine and Albert kept up their small talk, Albert’s responses grew shorter and shorter until everything he said sounded like caveman grunts. Jasmine either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She kept on talking like he was as invested as she was.
Like Albert and his grunts, I added all of the appropriate mm-hmms and oh yeahs about the weather and plants and other nonsense while only half-listening.
At the same time, I emailed myself a copy of the raw footage, then vigorously deleted every single glimpse of anything strange on the station’s copy.
When I finished, I watched it again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. Then, I rescued Albert from Jasmine. “Excuse me, I need my camera man’s expertise on something.”
“Of course.” Jasmine gestured for him to go ahead.
Albert mouthed thank you at me before hustling back across the room to join me in front of the screen. He peered over my shoulder, found Jasmine busying herself with her own work, then whispered to me, “How long do we need to pretend to be busy?”
I chuckled. “I edited our segment a bit and could use your opinion.”
“Oh.” He leaned in and watched the screen. He paused the footage as he went and made adjustments to focus, lighting, framing, and other details that had never been my forte.
I held my breath and watched him, a hopeful nervousness ballooning in my chest. He nodded, shook his head, mumbled about this detail or another being all wrong. His eye didn’t twitch once.
He turned to me. “Something wrong?”
“Nope. Why do you ask?”
“You’re staring at me.”
“Sorry. Just invested in this piece.”
“You’re always invested in every piece.” He patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll treat it well.”
“I know. You always do.” I slid my chair to the next computer and tried not to stare as I busied myself with another task. I set up a donation fund for Barnacles and uploaded the links to the station’s website. The whole time, I managed to slyly monitor Albert from the corner of my eye.
“And…submit.” Albert made a show of pressing the enter key, then rose from his seat. He stretched. “Ready to record the next one?”
“Always,” I said.
He looked completely normal and not broken.
No harm done. The little voice in the back of my head kept on nagging that the truth was meant to be shared, that uncovering secrets was my identity.
I squashed that voice.
Better to be someone who protects her friends and her family, who for once in her life doesn’t screw everything up.
Crisis averted, and I felt lighter for it.
Or so I told myself.