His Night-Light Gave Him Away

I used to think I was just unlucky.

I lost the doctoral fellowship, someone reported me to the state agency after I passed their hiring exams, and then I got framed at the company that finally hired me.

Then came the day I finished my last delivery and drove home, and an anonymous post scrolled past on my feed. The man who wrote it admitted it like it was nothing worth dwelling on.

He had paid someone to hit the mother of the roommate he was competing against, and then wrecked every way out that roommate found afterward.

He said the roommate was still driving deliveries, and the mother had been left with kidney failure from that crash. The profile picture on the post was a nightlight.

Exactly like the one my roommate kept on his desk.

Then I was back on the day before the selection interview, and the first call I made was to my mother. "No matter what happens tomorrow, don't leave the house." Chapter 1 My voice wouldn't stop shaking. "Mom, no matter what happens tomorrow, don't leave the house.

If anyone calls and tries to get you to come out, don't believe them. Stay inside.

Whatever you do, don't go out." On the other end she was still completely lost. "What's wrong, Wes? Did something happen?" I kept my voice hard. "It's a long story.

Just do exactly what I'm telling you. You can't go out tomorrow." "Okay, okay, I'll do what you say," she said. "Don't worry about me.

Good luck at your interview tomorrow." After I hung up, the hand holding the phone was still shaking.

My prep material for the selection interview was spread across my desk, and on the desk beside mine, on my roommate's side, sat that nightlight I knew so well.

Looking at it turned me cold all the way through. The department sent only one person to the graduate school each year, fully funded, straight into the doctoral program.

I had actually come back to the day before the selection interview. Every one of those disasters was still ahead of me, lined up and waiting to happen.

Tomorrow morning my mother would be hit by a car, and because I'd be racing to the hospital, I'd miss the interview.

After that, my life would come down like a row of dominoes, every kind of bad luck latching onto me at once.

If I hadn't come across that post, I really would have gone on believing, one disaster after another, that this was simply my fate.

The bathroom door opened and Trent came out toweling his hair, casual as anything. "Wes, still studying this late?" "I heard there's a new supermarket running a grandopening sale tomorrow.

Somebody gave me a gift card, perfect timing. Have Mrs. Ambrose go pick up a few things tomorrow. Don't be shy about it." Trent set the gift card down on my desk. My heart clenched.

In my last life, Trent had insisted on giving that gift card to my mother so she would go to the store.

I couldn't bring myself to turn him down, so I had her buy a box of food and ship it to school, and Trent and I split it.

That was what gave him his opening to hire someone to stage the crash. I pushed the anger down and shook my head. "That's all right.

My mom hasn't been feeling well the last few days.

She's not going out tomorrow." The smile on Trent's face froze for a second, then slid right back into place, and his voice turned warm with concern. "Not feeling well?

Is it serious? I could take some food over to her. Or she could come down to the lobby and I'll hand it to her, so she doesn't have to walk far—" I cut him off. "No need.

You have the interview tomorrow too. I'm not putting you out." Trent was quiet for a few seconds, then tried again anyway. "That's a shame.

Tomorrow's the only day they're running it. What if—" I raised my eyes and looked straight at him, my voice level. "I already told you.

My mom isn't going out tomorrow." His face went dark all at once, but he forced out a smile. "All right, then…" He turned back to packing up his own things, except he was slamming them around hard enough that the hate and the envy came through anyway.

I quietly closed my hand into a fist too. Chapter 2 It turned out my own roommate had been trying to destroy me the whole time. Trent still hadn't given up.

Sure enough, that evening he made an excuse about going down to pick up a package, and a little while later I got a text from my mother. [Wes, honey, are you okay?

Has it all been too much these last few days?] I was thrown, and I called her right back. "Mom, what's going on?" She sounded worried. "Wes, I know how much pressure you're under.

I'll come with you to the interview tomorrow, so don't you worry." Something felt off. "Mom, what happened?" "Your roommate called me just now, Trent I mean, and he told me you've been under so much pressure over this spot," she said. "He wants me to come to campus tomorrow and pick you up, as a surprise for you." "I thought he made a good point, and it was so nice of him, really.

I wasn't going to tell you, I wanted it to be a surprise, but then I remembered you told me this afternoon not to go out, and it didn't sit right with me, so I thought I'd ask you first." My fists locked shut.

What a complete animal. Trent had gone behind my back and called my mother himself. And he had dressed it up in a reason nobody could argue with.

If I hadn't already warned her that afternoon to stay home, she really would have come to see me tomorrow, and then… I couldn't let myself imagine it.

I pushed the ugly thing back down in my chest and forced a smile into my voice. "It's fine, Mom. You don't need to come.

I'm completely confident about this interview." When I got back to our room, I kicked the bedroom door open. "Trent, what was that, calling my mother?" Trent was laying out the clothes he'd wear to the interview.

He froze for a beat, then gave an awkward laugh. "She told you? Ambrose, I didn't mean anything by it, I just saw how much pressure you've been under lately.

It was pure goodwill." My voice went cold. "Goodwill?

I told you plainly this afternoon that my mom isn't well, and you turn around and contact her behind my back to talk her into going out.

That's goodwill?" Trent hadn't expected me to press this hard. He put on a wounded look. "Wes, that's an ugly thing to say. We're friends.

Is it wrong for me to care about you and your mom?" "How was I supposed to know you'd be this sensitive?

I meant nothing but well by it, and this is what you think of me!" I laughed, cold.

My eyes went to that nightlight I knew so well, and the post came back to me. "Trent, you and I both know exactly what you're up to." Trent's face soured when he saw I'd read him. "It's one spot.

Do you really have to make me out to be that disgusting?" "Besides, our GPAs in our major are almost identical. The interview comes down to what each of us can do.

I've got no reason to pull anything!" I looked him dead in the eye. "I hope tomorrow you really can let it come down to what each of us can do." I didn't take it any further.

At that moment I had no solid proof of the crash he had engineered in my last life. Tearing into him now would only get me a reputation for making a scene, and it would tip him off.

The poison in Trent's head was like a knife hanging over me, never quite dropping, a standing threat to me and to my family. I had to find something that would end it for good.

When the alarm went off the next morning, Trent and I both got up and started getting ready. I texted my mother again, telling her over and over not to leave the house.

In my last life, it happened two hours from then. My mother was hit by a car.

Trent made two cups of coffee in the little kitchen off the common room, poured milk into one of them, and brought it over to me.

Chapter 3 "Ambrose, I didn't think it through last night. Don't take it to heart. Have some coffee, wake yourself up. Hope it goes smoothly for you," Trent said.

The memories from my last life came surging up again. It came back to me in a haze: the year I missed the interview, I had also drunk a cup of coffee he made for me.

Not long after, I was dizzy and nauseated, my eyelids so heavy I could barely hold them up.

But every bit of my attention was on my mother's crash, so I dragged myself to the hospital and never once stopped to wonder about it. I answered flatly. "That's okay.

I'm lactose intolerant.

I can't drink that." Trent's hand stopped in midair with the cup in it, and disappointment flickered through his eyes before he looked down. "Since when are you lactose intolerant?

Ambrose, are you still holding last night against me?" Our other roommate tried to smooth it over. "Wes, come on, it's nothing.

The guy made you a coffee out of the goodness of his heart, just drink it." I kept my voice cold. "I've got an interview in a few minutes. I'm not gambling on it.

Leave the coffee there. I'll drink it when I get back." Trent could barely hold his expression together. "Fine. My mistake.

Drink plenty of water, then." The two of us walked over to the academic building together. The selection interviews were that day, and the whole floor was closed off.

Only the people interviewing were allowed in. The entire way, Trent kept trying to get at my backpack. "Ambrose, you've got a lot in that bag, it must be heavy.

Let me carry it for you." I moved it out of his reach. "I've got it." We passed plenty of people we knew, and somebody teased us. "Wes and Trent are each other's biggest competition today.

Who's got the edge in there?" Trent jumped in first, smiling. "Whatever each of us has earned. Wes has a rocksolid foundation in the coursework.

I've still got a lot to learn from him." It was a beautiful little speech.

Everyone praised him for being so big about it, which only made the argument I'd started the night before look petty and thinskinned by comparison.

He went for my backpack several more times on the way, and each time I slid it away without making a show of it. When we drew straws for the order, Trent came up right before me.

Fifteen minutes later he came out with his face like ice. I raised an eyebrow. Guess it didn't go so well in there?

As he passed me, Trent gave me a smile that never got anywhere near his eyes. "Ambrose, they hit hard on the derivations, right there on the spot.

Careful you don't crash and burn." I gave him a fake smile right back. He knew that was the weakest part of my foundation, and he wanted me rattled going in.

I walked into the interview room with my heart pounding. In my last life, I had left before it even started and missed the whole thing.

I never expected to be handed another shot at it. A full twentyfive minutes of questions later, I let out a breath.

The professor who interviewed me gave me a mild nod to let me know I could go. The second I stepped out of that room, the relief broke across my face.

Somebody saw me and called out, "Wes! Sounds like you crushed it!" "I walked past your room on my way in.

Even from the hallway I could hear you answering everything without missing a beat." I smiled a little. "It was okay.

It was okay." Trent stood a short distance off, staring at me, his face dark enough to drip. I went to a quiet corner of the hallway and called my mother.

Her voice came through, bright and happy. "Wes, are you done? I've been sitting here at home thinking about you the whole time. How did it go?

Did it go well?" Hearing that gentle smile in my mother's voice, everything strung tight in me let go. "Mom, it all went fine." That only made her happier. "Good, good, good.

I knew my son could do it." Chapter 4 "Oh, and Trent called me again earlier, said he wanted to give me a gift card so I could go pick up a few things. I told him no.

You tell Trent to stop giving me things all the time, I'd feel terrible taking it…" My face hardened. "What time did he call you?" She had to think about it. "It was, well, around nine, I think." Nine o'clock.

That was right when I'd gone in. If something had happened to my mother then, there was no chance I would have stayed for that interview.

And even if I'd hardened my heart and stayed, it would have wrecked how I performed. Trent really wasn't going to give it up!

After I hung up with my mother, I went back into the hallway of the academic building to gather my things. If I had him right, Trent wasn't going to let this end here.

If I hadn't shown up, how was he supposed to put on his show?

The students waiting in the hallway for results saw me coming and drifted over in twos and threes, all of them wishing me well. "Wes, you look good.

That spot is in the bag." "Trent came out earlier and said the questions were brutal, sounded like he didn't do great, he was only in there fifteen minutes.

You didn't have any trouble, right?" "You two are the top of the department.

Whoever gets the spot, they'll have earned it." Trent stood quietly in the corner, his eyes heavy on me, the envy and the resentment in them thick enough to see from across the hall.

He had tried to trip me up several times, and not one of them had worked. None of this was in his plan. By noon the interviews were over and the professors came out.

Seeing that we were all still waiting by the door, the professor who had interviewed me came over to talk to me. "You're Wes Ambrose, aren't you?

You're one of our own students too?" Behind me, people were whispering. "Holy shit, holy shit! A professor walked up to him first. Is Wes locked in or what?" "Obviously.

The way I answered in there, the guy who interviewed me probably couldn't pick me out of a lineup." I took a step forward, respectful without groveling. "Good afternoon, Professor.

I'm Wes Ambrose, senior year." The professor gave me an approving look, and he was about to say something else when Trent came rushing forward and raised his voice. "Dean, professors, I have something serious to report!" "There is severe fraud in Wes Ambrose's nomination file.

His honors award certificates and his competition placement are all forged!" The words landed, and the entire hallway went dead silent