Using the frozen frame as a guide, I backed against the wall, trying to put myself in the same place as the camera. When I thought I had it right, I turned back to the wall. There was still nothing there—not even the smallest hole where the tiniest of cameras could have been housed.
After looking around for a few more moments, I stepped out of the classroom, stopping in front of the door to scan the opposite wall for the other two cameras. They were nowhere in sight. I started the video again until it cut to the hallway view. Just as before, I paused the clip and tried to locate the cameras.
They just weren’t there.
9 The Admission Analysis
IN PHYSICS, ONCE THE BELL had rung, Sam nudged my arm. “Check out who didn’t make it to class,” she whispered.
I followed her gaze to the back of the classroom, confirming that Andrew’s desk was empty. When I turned back to my friends, Sam was nodding approvingly, Amy was smiling, and a wide grin stretched across Noah’s blue face.
“I so bet he got expelled,” Noah whispered.
I’m sure they would’ve loved nothing more than to continue their speculation on what Mr. Davenport was doing to Andrew. Unfortunately, Mrs. Lee didn’t allow discussions about non-physics-related subjects. We kept our suspicions about Andrew’s absence to ourselves for the rest of the period.
At least Noah, Sam, and I could discuss things openly in our next class—robotics. It was a much more relaxed atmosphere. However, when we got there, Sam, Noah, and I were surprised when Andrew walked through the door just before the tardy bell rang.
I could see shock on Sam’s face and anger simmering on Noah’s. Bad vibes were flying all around as Andrew glared our way before sitting down at his own worktable.
“Pardon the interruption,” Mr. Davenport’s voice blared over the school intercom. “As most of you know, our school has been the target of a prankster lately. Now, I know spirits get a little high from time to time, but these pranks are not only beginning to disrupt normal school operation; I’ve been informed that they’re also now involving damage to school property, and we cannot tolerate such behavior.”
I glanced at my friends. Sam shrugged, while Noah shook his head. I wondered which prank Mr. Davenport was referring to. The mystery button certainly hadn’t been school property.
“I’ve already questioned a few students,” our principal continued, “but I’ve yet to identify the culprit. If these pranks stop here and now, I will end my investigation and we’ll all go on with business as usual.” He let out a sigh. “But if they continue, I will find out who you are on my own, or do so with the help of the authorities. This is your one and only warning. Thank you for your attention, everyone.”
When the announcement was over, the class was buzzing with this latest news.
“Damaged school property?” Sam asked. “Which prank was that?”
Noah pointed to his blue face. “Hello?”
“Dude, you’re not school property,” I told him.
“You guys didn’t hear about the water fountains?” Jamal Watts asked.
The three of us shook our heads.
Jamal pulled out his phone. “I saw the whole thing.” He swiped across his screen until a video came up. We gathered around his phone as a shaky image of two girls at a water fountain appeared—Ashley Robbins and Deena Bittick. They backed away from the two fountains as something white poured from one of the basins and onto the floor. Deena’s face was dripping wet, and the speaker blared out other students laughing.
“What is that?” Noah asked, pointing to the oozing white material.
“It’s snow,” Jamal replied with a grin. “Well, fake snow.”
“I remember that stuff,” Sam said. “Mrs. Gaines showed it to us last year.”
She was right. Our usual chemistry teacher showed us this highly absorbent polymer powder that expands to nearly one hundred times its original volume when you add water. The end result is pretty realistic.
“Someone must’ve put a bunch of that powder down the drains,” Jamal surmised.
Sam scratched her head. “Why is Deena’s face wet?”
“I don’t know,” Jamal replied. “I only caught the end of the prank.”
Noah laughed. “Yeah, I bought some of that fake snow one time. Pretty cool.”
I shot him a look. “Oh, so the pranks are funny again, are they?”
Noah’s smile faded as he touched the side of his blue face. “No.”
After Jamal returned to his work group, Sam gave us a knowing look. “So that had to be what Mr. Davenport meant about damaging school property.”
“Yeah, that stuff probably clogged the pipes,” I agreed. “They may have to get a plumber in to replace them.”
“Or Mr. Jacobs will have to…” Noah trailed off as Andrew walked over.
“Hey, Junior,” he said. “Did you or your… friends”—he shot Sam a look—“tell Davenport that I did all the pranks?”
Sam assumed a wide-eyed innocent expression. “Why would we ever do that?”
“Yeah, it’s not like you have a history sabotaging this school or anything,” Noah added.
“No,” I replied. “None of us said a thing to Mr. Davenport.”
“Well, I spent all of last period in his office telling him I didn’t do it.” Andrew glanced around. “Hardly anyone is talking to me anymore. And the ones who do just keep telling me how cool all the pranks are.”
Sam crossed her arms. “Well, if the shoe fits.”
“Yeah,” Noah agreed. “You hacked our robot, so hacking the school security cameras must’ve been a piece of cake.”
I forgot that I hadn’t told my friends that the security cameras were no longer an issue. I opened my mouth to explain, but changed my mind. It was too good watching Andrew squirm.
He sighed, then pulled up a stool to our table. As he sat, he glanced around, then leaned forward. The three of us scooted closer. It looked like it was confession time.
“Look,” Andrew began. “All right. I hacked your dumb robot.” He nodded at Noah. “It was an actual piece of cake, by the way. You should really update your firewall, Papa Smurf.”
Noah bit his lower lip and shook his head. “Man…”
The slam on Noah went completely over my head. I think I was too shocked that Andrew Foger had actually admitted to doing something wrong.
He glanced over at Sam. “And I’m sorry you got blamed for all that stuff at camp. I heard the rumor, saw an opportunity, and ran with it.”
Sam sat silently, tight-lipped. I could tell she was fuming.
Andrew’s usual smirk disappeared as his gaze moved over each of us. “I did not hack into the school’s security system, though, and I didn’t pull all those pranks.”
Sam shook her head. “Whatever.”
Andrew looked between Noah and me, waiting for a response. After a few seconds of our silence, he pushed off the table and stood. “Fine. Believe what you want,” he snapped before spinning around and marching back to his worktable.
“Piece of cake? Really?” Noah asked. “I know my program is more secure than the school’s system.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”
Noah shrugged. “I just know. All right?”
“Yeah, about those security cameras…,” I said before explaining what I’d discovered.
“You’re just telling us this now?” Sam asked.
Noah crossed his arms. “More importantly, you didn’t take me camera-hunting with you.”
“I didn’t have a chance until now,” I told Sam. “And I was just acting on a hunch,” I explained to Noah.
He rubbed his blue chin. “So good ol’ Andy planted his own digital cameras, then pulled them later when no one was looking. He must’ve mounted them with that reusable putty or something.”
“Then he took the camera footage and edited it together with all the uploaded phone videos,” Sam added.
That gave me an idea. I went over to Ja
mal’s table. “Can you pull up that video again, and can I borrow your phone for a second?”
“Sure,” Jamal said as he fished out his phone.
After he cued up the video, I brought the phone back to our table. “Let me see something.”
Sam and Noah crowded in as I played the shaky video again. As Ashley and Deena reacted to the unexpected blizzard, I scanned the wall behind the fountain. I paused the video when I spotted what I’d been looking for.
“There,” I said, pointing to a tiny square on the wall. “I bet that’s one of the cameras.”
“Oh, yeah,” Noah said, taking the phone from me. He played the video again, and then paused it on another frame. The camera wasn’t as blurry in that frame.
“I recognize that kind of camera,” Sam said. “It’s the ones snowboarders wear on their helmets.”
She was right. Skydivers, surfers, and all kinds of other athletes use the small digital cameras to get awesome footage of their stunts.
“Man, those things are expensive,” Noah said. “But you said Andrew’s dad is crazy rich, right?”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “If Andrew did it, then buying these cameras wouldn’t be a problem.”
“If? If he did it?” Sam demanded. “Don’t tell me you fell for that line he just gave us?”
I hated to admit it, but I actually kind of had.
10 The Inaudible Assertion
THAT NIGHT, I FINISHED MY homework as quickly as I could, and then pulled up the Not-So-Swift Academy blog. Sure enough, footage of more pranks had been uploaded. I opened a video called “Let It Snow.”
As before, the blurred blogger sat in front of a moving background. This time, thick snowflakes fell from above.
“It’s never too early for a little wintry fun, right?” the blogger said in the same deep, distorted voice. “Let’s see how a couple of not-so-swift students deal with malfunctioning drinking fountains.”
The video cut to an overhead view of the two side-by-side fountains. No doubt, the scene was recorded from the camera we’d spotted in Jamal’s video.
Nothing happened at first; students walked past the fountains on their way to class. Then Ashley and Deena came into view. Ashley began drinking from one fountain while Deena moved to the other. She leaned in and pressed the button, but instead of the usual small arc of water flowing from the nozzle, a thin stream shot straight up, blasting her face. She sputtered, stumbling back. I could make out a few strains of laughter in the background.
Meanwhile, Ashley was oblivious to what had just happened to her friend. She kept drinking until the fake snow pushed out of the drain. Suddenly, she stepped back as the basin quickly filled and began overflowing onto the floor. More laughter echoed through the hallway, and there was even some applause.
I couldn’t resist chuckling, but stopped abruptly when I realized how embarrassed Deena had been.
The camera angle cut several times, switching to video that must have been shot on a phone. No doubt, the blogger had grabbed footage from other students’ uploaded videos.
I rewound the video and concentrated on the camera angles instead of the action. I counted three hidden cameras. Two must have been mounted on the drinking fountain wall—one on each side to get the best shot of both drinkers. It looked like a third camera had been mounted on the wall directly opposite the fountains—this one caught a wide shot of all the action.
Next, I played a video called “False Alarm,” which began with an air horn floating behind the blogger.
“These not-so-swift students can’t even follow simple instructions,” the blogger stated. “See what happens when one of them meets a button that’s clearly labeled ‘Do not push.’ ”
The video cut to another hallway scene. I watched Noah walk past the button, come back and examine it, then glance around the hall before finally pressing it. I shook my head as he jumped back in surprise.
In the first minute of the video, I counted three static camera angles just as before. Yet, after Noah pressed the button (then frantically pressed it over and over again to make the alarm shut off), the video began intercutting with phone footage as more students gathered. I even saw Amy and me enter frame with our hands over our ears, shouting to Noah over the noise. Near the end of the video, as Noah pried open the box, the scene cut between the two static cameras on the wall just as my friend got a face full of blue liquid.
As I navigated back to the blogger’s main page, I wondered if Noah had gotten any tips from Mr. Osborne on how to get the blue stain off his face. My thoughts were interrupted, however, when I saw that a new clip had been uploaded. It was called “Happy Birthday.”
The footage opened with the blurred blogger seated in the same position as in the other videos. This time, a cartoon birthday cake floated in the background.
“It’s called the Not-So-Swift Academy for a reason,” the blogger said. “Even the faculty is clueless. Let’s peek in on a school meeting, shall we?”
The scene cut to an overhead view of our library. All of the Swift Academy’s teachers were sitting at tables facing the front, Mr. Davenport leaning against the librarian’s desk addressing them. I inched forward, holding my breath. How was the blogger going to prank the teachers?
“The last order of business, of course, is the rash of school pranks,” Mr. Davenport said. “Does anyone have any clue as to which student is responsible?”
For a moment, the room remained silent. I felt a little guilty spying on my teachers, especially if they were about to begin theorizing as to who the prankster was. I wasn’t sure I was prepared to hear their opinions of different students.
“Have you looked into—” Mr. Varma began before being cut off by high-pitched music. I recognized the tune right away. It was “Happy Birthday.”
Mr. Davenport glanced around. “What is that?”
Mrs. Welch stood and moved toward one of the bookshelves. The camera angle shifted so she was in the foreground. The librarian sorted through some books until she pulled out a small object. The music grew louder as she carried it over to the principal.
“What is this from, a birthday card?” he asked, turning it over in his hands.
I nodded as I recognized the object. After all, what curious kid hadn’t examined the mechanisms behind a singing greeting card, poking at the tiny speaker and battery attached to an even smaller circuit board?
Mr. Davenport pinched the circuit board until his fingers came away with a silver disc. He must’ve removed the battery, since the music cut off mid-verse. He held up the device. “See? This is what I’m—”
He was interrupted by another round of “Happy Birthday.”
There were a few chuckles as the teachers’ heads turned in the opposite direction to where the first device had been found. This time, Mr. Edge quickly located the musical culprit. He didn’t bother handing it to the principal, popping out the battery himself.
No sooner had that device been silenced than another one went off. Then another. And another. After what seemed like a dozen more digital trills, the usually quiet library was suddenly awash with birthday songs playing out of sync. The cacophony sounded maddening to me. I could only imagine what it was like to actually be there, in the middle of a “Happy Birthday” insane surround sound. All the teachers were searching for the offending devices. After about a minute of the irritating scavenger hunt, the video cut off.
I leaned back in my chair. No wonder Mr. Davenport had decided to crack down on the pranks. I bet he was furious after being a target himself.
I thought back to what Sam had said about Andrew. Sure, if he was the blogger, of course he would deny it. But honestly, I didn’t think he was that good a liar. I was no Andrew Foger fan by a long shot, but he had seemed sincere.
I had an idea. Maybe if I watched the videos again with a different ear, I could pick out a speech pattern or common phrase that Andrew used. The blogger was using some kind of voice distortion, but I didn’t think Andrew was clever enough to c
hange the rhythm of his speech pattern or to scrub habitual expressions from his vocabulary. I almost wished the blogger had said, “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” Then I’d know for certain.
Since “Happy Birthday” was already open, I began there. I restarted the video and listened carefully, purposely not looking at the blurred face and trying to imagine, instead, Andrew saying those words. Had I ever heard him use the word “faculty” before?
Just before the video cut to the library, movement in the corner of the screen caught my eye. I hit pause and backed the time bar up a bit, then leaned closer to my monitor as the footage played again. There! A triangle appeared in the top right corner of the screen. I played the segment back again and figured out what it was that was bothering me. The top right corner of the blogger’s green screen had fallen, revealing part of the background behind it. Was that a tree? It was difficult to make out.
I had to get more eyes on this.
I shot a group text to my friends, and within moments, their faces appeared on my computer screen in a video chat.
“What’s up, Swift?” Sam asked.
“Did you guys watch the latest video on Not-So-Swift?” I asked.
Noah cracked up. “Oh, yeah. No wonder Davenport has it in for the prankster.”
“At least it didn’t destroy school property this time,” Amy chimed in.
“Okay, I found something weird in the intro to that video.” I explained how the backdrop appeared to fall down. “Check it out. It’s about at forty-five seconds in.”
I waited while each of my friends pulled up the video.
“Hey, what is that?” Noah asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “It looks like a tree or something.”
“It is a tree,” Sam confirmed. She turned and pointed to her back wall. “I have the same eco poster on my wall. Can you see it?”
I leaned closer to the monitor. The poster was tiny in the corner of Sam’s chat screen, but I could just make out the tree in the background. It was the same thing.
The Blurred Blogger Page 5
