Ghostbusters ends and we turn on Bridesmaids. We're halfway through a no-emotions-necessary movie marathon when Mercy gets off the floor.

"My butt hurts," she announces. Then she takes her tablet from my lap and heads toward her bed.

The butterflies that perpetually live in my stomach when it comes to Mercy wake up in a flutter of spastic wings. It's stupid, I know it's stupid, but that's the point, right. Unrequited love is stupid and painful, and when Mercy pulls the fluffy duvet off her bed and nods me toward the soft mattress, it's also perfectly lovely.

I struggle off the floor. The linoleum isn't kind and the few pillows we gathered before sitting down didn't do much to change the fact that we were essentially sitting on colorful concrete.

Mercy's bed. Okay, Mercy's bed. 

Mercy wraps herself in her blanket and scoots close to the wall. I'm trying to figure out the least worst place to sit when she opens her arm and offers the place next to her.

"Like old times," she jokes. "Remember when we all used to fit under Penelope's ugly purple blanket?"

"The itchy ugly blanket," I say. There's a lump in my throat the size of a baseball. I'm trying to act natural and I'm trying not to cry. My fingers are hot and sticky. I'm not going to tell Mercy that I'm going to find Penelope, but I'm going to find Penelope. Then we can get her itchy purple blanket back out, and then maybe I'll still have a friend around after Mercy and John leave me.

I sit on the edge of Mercy's bed and then, because I'm a masochist I slide in next to her and let the warm blanket wrap around my shoulders. Mercy taps play and snuggles in.

The movie feels longer now that I feel every twitch of my body and every slight shift of Mercy's.

I don't like having to think so much about where my body ends and another person's begins. My breathing cannot be normal.

"You okay?" Mercy stops the movie, probably ten minutes from some dramatic climax. She shifts and our bodies separate. It feels like peeling duct tape off. It hurts like hell. I was almost okay when I was in Mercy's arms, but also stressed.

"Why are you here with me instead of cuddling John watching movies?" The words leave my mouth before I can process how stupid they sound.

"Because John's fine and you're the one who needs a friend right now," Mercy says it matter-of-factly, like she's explaining why the sun came up again. It's not, but I don't know how to explain that it's not.

"You do get that I care about you right?" Mercy fumbles around with her blanket to free herself and turns so she's fully facing me.

I glower, because she doesn't care about me. She cares about John and having a nice Harvard golden parachute when she gets out of YEPP.

"Phia?" Mercy's left eye squints like it does when she's trying to get a mission director or, more often, me to tell the truth. It's her lie detector eye twitch.

I'm halfway to a moody growl before I manage to stop myself and say,

"Why do you say you care about me when you're clearly planning to leave with John and never look back?

"What?" Mercy doesn't sound mad, just confused.

"The SATs," I say. "You're taking them so you can go to college. John's powers are disappearing, so you're going to leave with him."

"Phia, I'm not going to leave with John. Yes I have plans to go to college, but not right now."

I snort. She's really laying it on thick.

"You're in love with him and I'm just supposed to believe you're going to let him leave here without you." I get off Mercy's bed and step away from her. I think of all the times in the last month she and John have been off together doing god knows what. I hate how her eyes scan me with concern. I hate how she looks confused and hurt, when she's the one hurting me.

"John," Mercy laughs. "Our John?"

I stare at her, so hard that I wish lasers would come out of my eyes and flay her skin.

"I love John, but not more than you," Mercy says. "I'm not leaving with him.

"You're dating him," I state plainly. "Kind of means you like him more. You can pick him over me. It's fine. It's not gonna hurt my feelings." At least not after the initial sting wears off.

Mercy looks like I've just flung a basketball right past her face. She blinks several times, opens her mouth a few more before, saying,

"I'm not dating John." Every word comes out with more confusion than the last.

"Yes you are." I don't need her to lie to me, though I have to admit she's doing a good job pretending.

"I promise you I'm not dating him." Mercy's confusion is turning to frustration. She pushes herself up on to her knees so we're close to eye level. She looks concerned. "I've never dated him." She takes a few careful knee steps closer to me.

I want to push her and run, but I don't because she's getting very close to me, and that funny stomach churning thing is happening again. I think maybe I'm very angry, or maybe I'm very in love. Then Mercy puts a hand on my cheek and leans in to kiss me.

Holy hell! My heart drops into my big toe.

I real back. Reality and everything I know collides like two trains traveling in opposite directions at 80mph directly at each other.

I can't breathe. I shove Mercy away from me.

No. No?

I wipe my lips where hers touched mine. Why would she cheat on John with me. Who is she? I step back, choking and glaring. My eyes water from fear and sadness. Mercy? The Mercy I know would never hurt John. Even if it means I'm reeling with painful joy. I can't have her. She loves John. She's not mine.

I'm dizzy. I shove Mercy again, her back hits the wall with a satisfying thud. I could go at her again, but I don't. Tears well in the bottom of my eyes. Mercy looks scared, but mostly upset. An "oh fuck" whispers on her lips.

I can't look at her right now.

I leave the room while the walls spin.

I head toward the library, then away. Then back and forth and nowhere and everywhere. I maybe catch a glimpse of John down a hall and turn and hurry the other direction. I duck out of the way of friends and people who would know what crazy looks like. I know what this looks like. The walls slide and slip into each other.

When I know Mercy has gone to dinner, I sneak back into our room. I find her tablet and my data mag and I go to the library. It's safe in the back of the room, under a desk and away from people.

I work, because what else am I supposed to do? My brain screams and the world turns and I keep my eyes on the tablet where notes about Penelope twirl and tangle until they make sense. Until I can forget everything else.

I listen to the chattering of my fingers as they point and nudge, and I start to piece it together.

A helicopter and a beeping.

I'm really piecing something together.

A flight path, longitudinal lines. The pathways of icebergs and ocean currents.

I'm piecing it together, until I've pieced it together.

So I stare at my notes.

And stare some more. And double check, because that can't be the answer. It can't be.

But it is.

It's the answer.

I drag up the calendars of all the people I need to talk to. Someone needs to listen. I know they have other things to do, but this is important. This is the most important. I have answers.

I leave the library. There's a small conference room near what is essentially mission control. There's a finance meeting going on or something, but Commander Mack Bradly and Melissa Fletcher and even Eliath Crow are in attendance and they all need to hear this.

I use whatever badge I can get my hands on (the janitors) and go to the conference room (Room 361), then I type in the meeting code for access (451).

"It's in the helicopter data," I say. Eight pairs of eyes turn to me. They should be quicker on the draw. I flip through my tablet data and toss it onto the table in front of Mack.

"What's this about?" Melissa asks.

"Penelope." I say offhandedly, because It's obvious. My hands are screaming her name, can't they hear it? Can't they all hear it. I've been doing nothing but hearing it for so many hours now!

"We didn't have information about her location from her beacon, but we did have the helicopter pilots notes from the flight."

"Phia-" Mack looks reasonable and calm. He puts one gentle hand on the table. "Maybe this isn't the time and place for-"

"Something was off with the radio system," I say. They need to know I solved this. I can save one of their best leaders. I just need a ship and a few hours. "He said it was intermittently flickering out. I went back and listened to all the audio. It wasn't intermittently spotting, it was intermittently picking up another sound. A really high frequency blip, one most people wouldn't be able to hear," I flick around documents on my tablet to show them. I talk as quickly as I can so I can get the words in before they kick me out. I can tell they're close to it, because they're giving each other concerned, should-we-call-security looks. I hurry.

"but a radio would still shut down because of that high pitched sound. I copied the pattern of the pings. It was a consistent pattern, I cross-referenced it with everything I could think of; pitch, morse code, latitude and longitudinal coordinates. I counted them, I matched the numbers with letters, I did everything until I realized that it's nothing." I'm almost out of breath with the speed I'm going, but this is the best part. This is the part where I figured it out. I hear the door click behind me. Probably security. I move faster, "It's not a code, but it does grow dimmer. So I looked into it. The helicopter was moving a 180 mph at the moment the pinging began. It was moving southwest before turning west to head back to HQ."

I grab my tablet again and pull up the map. I can see a few of the assembled people shift as if getting ready to forcibly drag me from the room. It's not the first time I've been dragged out of a room, but the first time it happened was the day John and Mercy talked me into going to the med center where I was subsequently tranqued and put on mood stabilizers. This isn't like that. This time I have a reason for being so keyed up. I can save Penelope. I can't be dragged out before I show them the coordinates. Someone gently reaches for my arm. I spin out of their grasp and crawl onto the table. Melissa is my goal. She assigns missions. She has the power to make my rescue mission happen.

I find the maps I need. I set the tablet in front of Melissa and shove one of my burnt silver fingers onto Penelope's location.

"She's there," I say. "We can save her."