Chapter 73
[Rose's POV]
We walked along Newbury Street with our lobster rolls, the October wind carrying the salt-sweet smell of the harbor. Alexander was mid-sentence about some ridiculous TikTok trend when he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Oh my God," he breathed.
I followed his gaze to the Game Stop flagship store. The massive display window was lit up like a stage, showcasing what appeared to be some kind of gaming equipment. A sleek black console sat on a pedestal, surrounded by controllers, headsets, and a screen displaying vivid graphics. The price tag read $32,999.
Alexander's lobster roll hung forgotten in his hand. His eyes had gone wide, reflecting the glow from the window like a child spotting Santa Claus.
"Alexander," I said. "You're dripping butter on your shoes."
He didn't respond. He just stood there, transfixed, his mouth slightly open. Then he turned to me with an expression of desperate hope. His hands came together in a prayer position.
"My dearest great-great-grandmother," he said, his voice taking on the tone of someone pleading for their life. "Consider everything I've done for you. I've been your driver. Your guide to modern Boston. I've protected you from Rachel's schemes. I've—"
"The answer is no," I said calmly, taking another bite of my lobster roll.
"You didn't even let me finish!" His hands were still clasped together. "That's the PlayStation 5 Pro limited edition bundle. It includes—"
"I don't care what it includes." I wiped my mouth with a napkin. "Here's my offer: next time you take an SAT practice test, improve your score by one hundred points. Or beat me at any video game of your choice. Then I'll consider it."
The color drained from his face. "That's not fair! You know I can't beat you at games." His voice rose in genuine distress. "And my SAT score is 1180. Do you know how hard it is to jump a hundred points?"
"Harder than standing here whining, I imagine." I started walking again, forcing him to follow. "Alexander, let me understand this correctly. You want me to reward poor academic performance and mediocre gaming skills with a thirty-thousand-dollar toy?"
"It's not a toy, it's a complete gaming system—"
"Sounds like a toy to me."
He caught up and grabbed my arm, gently pulling me to a stop. His expression shifted to something more vulnerable. "Rose, please. My birthday is next month. I'll be eighteen. That's a big deal in America—you become an adult. This could be my coming-of-age gift."
I looked at him.
His eyes were so earnest. So young. His voice had gone soft, almost pleading. "I really, really want it."
"Life is full of things we want," I said, not unkindly. "That doesn't mean we should—"
"Wow." A familiar voice cut through the night air. "Oh wow, this is too good."
I turned. Rachel stood about fifteen feet away, phone already raised and recording. Her makeup flawless even at this late hour. Ethan stood beside her, his expression somewhere between amused and contemptuous.
"Rachel, everyone!" Alexander dropped my arm immediately, his whole demeanor shifting. The soft pleading vanished, replaced by something hard and defensive. "Come to document my humiliation for your Instagram stories?"
"I don't need to document anything." Rachel moved closer, phone still recording. "Alexander, Boston Prep's most notorious troublemaker, begging like a three-year-old for his great-great-grandmother to buy him toys. The internet is going to love this."
Ethan laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. "Having money problems, Sullivan? I heard your whole family's assets got frozen. Is that why you're reduced to asking for handouts?"
Alexander's hands clenched into fists. A vein pulsed in his temple. "Shut your mouth, Harrison."
"It's okay, really." Ethan's voice dripped with false sympathy. "My mother actually gave me a PS5 for my last birthday. Barely used it. I could give it to you—consider it an early birthday present between friends."
The silence that followed was dangerous. Alexander's face had gone red, his breathing shallow. When he spoke, his voice was low and venomous.
"Your second-hand garbage? Yeah, that sounds about right for you, Ethan. Passing off your mother's charity as generosity." He took a step forward. "I want the limited edition. You know, the one you couldn't get even if you had the money? Because they're not for sale to just anyone. They're invitation-only, reserved for people who matter." His lip curled. "Your cast-off console isn't worth donating to a homeless shelter. It's too low-quality even for charity."
"Alexander!" Rachel moved between them, her phone forgotten. "That's disgusting! How dare you talk to him like that!"
"How dare I?" Alexander's laugh was harsh. "You two just happened to be walking past Game Stop at nearly eleven PM? On this exact street? You're not following us? Not hoping to catch some embarrassing moment to spread around school?"
Rachel's face flushed. "Why would I be following you? I have better things to do than watch you grovel to—" She gestured at me dismissively. "To her."
"Then why are you here, Rachel?" Alexander's voice had gone quiet again, but there was steel underneath. "Funny how you're always around lately. Always watching. Always recording."
"Maybe because your behavior is fascinating," Rachel shot back. "Last Christmas you chased after me at the country club party. You literally said meeting me was 'the luckiest thing that happened all year.' You asked for my Instagram three times. Now you're here, throwing away every shred of dignity you have left, begging her for video games." She pointed at me without looking in my direction. "What changed, Alexander? What does she have that makes you forget who you are?"
Alexander was quiet for a long moment. Then he looked at me, and something in his expression softened. "People change, Rachel. And some people are worth changing for."
The words hung in the cold October air. Rachel stared at him, then at me, her perfect composure cracking just slightly. Ethan's jaw tightened.
Then someone screamed.
"Oh my God! Is that Rachel Evans?"
I turned to see a group of teenage girls about thirty feet away, phones out, pointing. One of them started running toward us.
"From American Dream Star!" another shrieked.
More people noticed the commotion. Within seconds, a crowd began forming. Young women with phones, some tourists with cameras, a few guys recording videos. They surged forward like a wave.
"Rachel! Rachel, can we get a photo?"
"Sign my phone case!"
"You were amazing in the last episode!"
Rachel's face lit up with her performance smile. "Of course! I love meeting fans—"
But there were too many. The crowd pressed in from all sides, a wall of bodies and phones and flashing lights. Someone bumped hard into my shoulder. An elbow jabbed my ribs. The air suddenly felt thick, hard to breathe.
"Everyone, please, if you could just—" Rachel's voice rose but was swallowed by the noise.
A phone's flash went off directly in my face. Then another. Spots danced across my vision. The crowd pushed closer, tighter. I felt someone's hand grab my jacket. Another flash. The smell of too many perfumes and colognes mixing together.
My chest constricted. The walls of the laboratory. The klaxon screaming. Radiation warnings flashing red. The door wouldn't open. Smoke filling my lungs. Jimmy crying somewhere I couldn't reach him. Trapped. No air. Can't breathe.
"Rose?" Alexander's voice sounded far away.
Another flash. More screaming. The crowd was a living thing now, pushing and pulling from every direction. I couldn't see the street anymore, just bodies and phones and lights.
Someone yanked Rachel's hair trying to get her attention. She yelped. Her designer purse fell, contents spilling across the pavement. People trampled her things reaching for her.
"Back off!" Ethan tried to shield her but got shoved aside.
My vision started to tunnel. Dark spots at the edges. The walls closing in.
Then Alexander was there. His body between me and the crowd, his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest. "Move! Get out of the way!"
But his voice was lost in the chaos. Someone stumbled, knocked over a metal trash can. The crash was like an explosion. The sound slammed into my ears, into my chest. My knees buckled.
"Rose!" Alexander's arm tightened. "Stay with me."
More flashes. More screaming. Rachel's voice, panicked now: "Stop! Please stop!"
The crowd kept pressing in. A woman's shoulder hit my face. I tasted copper, realized I'd bitten my lip. The pressure in my chest was unbearable. Like the air itself was crushing me. Like radiation burning through my cells. Like dying all over again.
"I said MOVE!" Alexander's roar cut through the noise.
And then—