Encrypted

by Weaver, Nicole

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 by Nicole Weaver

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

  First paperback edition May 2021

  Cover design by Matt Akin

  ISBN 978-1-7364281-0-8 (paperback)

  ISBN 978-1-7364281-1-5 (ebook)

  Published by Nicole Weaver

  www.taltosdreams.com

  Dedication

  For the people we grow to be,

  And the children we might have been.

  Acknowledgments

  I couldn't have written this novel without two very special people, Jason Scheffler and Taylor Jerome. My cheerleaders, my sounding boards, my greatest source of encouragement. We truly make a great team.

  My readers, alpha, beta, and final draft, gave excellent feedback. This would have been a far different novel without you, and lesser for it. Thank you, Mason, Marcie, Rachel, Chris, Taryn Vivino, Amanda Brooke G. Lumina Sh4tt3rgl4ss, and William D. "Buck" Rekow.

  Ryan Stucker deserves a special shout out for his help with my earliest short stories set in the World of Primes. You didn't see this novel, but your encouragement helped make it all possible.

  My cover is a direct result of Yell and her excellent input. I'm so glad we didn't go with my first choice.

  To my boss at my day job, Terry Castor, thank you for not teasing me about all the lunch time I spent on my laptop. It has been a pleasure working with you.

  To my mom and dad, thank you for standing by me even when I didn't turn out the way you expected. I love you both very much.

  Encrypted

  By Nicole Weaver

  Chapter 1

  Wednesday May 19th, 2010

  Eyeing her most hated foe with a mixture of trepidation and irritation, Samantha narrated the scene to herself. There she stands, Mrs. Dawn, Terror of a Thousand Classrooms, and the final barrier between our Villain and the end of High School. Cue epic soundtrack. Hiding behind the frail exterior of a white-haired old woman lurked the arrogance and power of a Hero. One dedicated to destroying the lives and freedom of those weaker than her. Many had tried before, but only Laserbird would succeed in getting her revenge on the monster at the front of the room.

  The subject of Samantha's regard continued humming softly while sorting through a small pile of paperwork on her desk. Grey haired and frail, Mrs. Dawn managed to give her every action a sense of purpose. Earlier in the year she had dropped a pencil and left the class abuzz with rumors for weeks afterwards.

  Sighing, Samantha picked loose strands of her brown hair out of her eyes. I need a better code name than Laserbird. Some actual powers wouldn't hurt either.

  Her favorite spot was usually in the second row. That seat offered the best position to heckle her sworn enemies, the cheerleaders. During a slow class, the second row worked as an excellent place to fake a nap, infuriating whichever teacher had decided to risk paying attention to her. It was also perfect as a place where she could directly respond to the cheerleader's taunts, though most had already learned that Samantha would get her revenge one way or another.

  At the moment she had bigger fish to fry. Samantha had tried the entire Senior Year to get one over on the Bringer of Tests, but she had always ended up one step behind. By obnoxious new rules, clever tactics, or a stubborn refusal to admit to losing, the Pink Yoda had turned each perfectly planned victory into ruinous defeat.

  Today found Samantha squeezed into the back row, closest to the door, and vowing it would be different. She scanned the room for any sign of someone spying for Mrs. Dawn. No one looked back at her, not even her second greatest enemy, Christy Brown.

  Shaking her head, she slid the zipper on her backpack open a few inches, then shut. Open. Shut. Getting even with the cheerleaders will have to wait for later.

  Boredom pushed her to act, move, do anything but sit quietly, but careful planning won out, barely. She crossed her arms over her black, Full Metal Alchemist T-shirt. Better to avoid notice and silently count the seconds to my inevitable victory.

  To her right was the section of class along the back wall, nicknamed the Row of Delinquents. She would find no allies there. Most had surrendered the war with Mrs. Dawn in the first few weeks of class, the rest had given in when their teacher punished everyone because Samantha had gifted her a box of ex-lax chocolates. They were all eager to escape her forever when the bell rang.

  The rest of the back row had spent three weeks pretending not to see Samantha sitting in this same spot by the door, wearing the Apron of Shame; a bit of pink frilly cloth embossed with the words. "Mrs. Dawn is smarter than I am."

  It had been a harsh lesson that made even the most stubborn teenager among them decided the price of fighting the Pink Yoda was too much of a risk.

  Of course, Samantha had protested all the way to the Principal's Office. He'd taken one look at the apron and burst into laughter, then sent her back to class, his harsh chuckle echoing in her ears.

  The next day Samantha had slipped a stink bomb under his seat cushion. During lunch he was using a table in the lunchroom as his desk. Samantha made sure to wish him a cheery good day all three mornings he was there.

  Now would be the time to bring her battle against tyranny to a close. This day, the last of her senior year, would make right what had gone wrong at Welbore High School. All day, people had eyed her suspiciously, but past experience kept Samantha quiet. Without friends or family, she'd stood essentially alone for almost two years, today would be no different. I miss you, big brother.

  Shielding her hands behind her bag, Samantha aimed the tiny mirror in the palm of her hand at the clock on the wall behind her. The old monster has to do it this year. I paid good money to last year's Valedictorian to dish on how the trick works. She swore Mrs. Dawn pulls the same thing every senior class in her final period of the day.

  Mrs. Dawn moved from her desk to stand mockingly before her students.

  There it is. With an imperious twirl of her totally basic dress, the wizened Heroine prepared to bring the gaggle of students to order. Hidden within the herd of teenagers watched her nemesis, Laserbird, preparing for their final battle.

  The hated voice struck like a thunderclap. "I need quiet." She got it. A stark reminder that age had not dulled Mrs. Dawn's famed ability to intimidate an entire room to silence.

  "Class, I realize you are impatient to leave, but my time with you does not end for another 20 minutes. Please pay attention to my very last lesson for you." Mrs. Dawn said.

  Groans filled the room as all hope for leaving early was dashed.

  Mrs. Dawn smiled at the sound, then spared a puzzled eye for one seat in the back row.

  Crap, I forgot to boo and hiss at her theatrics like I usually do. I hope I didn't tip her off that I know what she's up to.

  Shaking her full head of snowy white hair, Mrs. Dawn turned her attention back to the other students. "In order, based upon your final grade in my class, I will ask each of you a riddle. If you answer correctly, you and a single friend of your choosing may leave early. If any of my riddles remain unsolved, then everyone left at the 5-minute mark will receive one final lesson before being released."

  Protests erupted as the students realized what she'd done. They took stock of their friends, wondering which pick would lose them the least amount of goodwill.

  Relationships have died for less than choosing the wrong friend in a setup like this...and
woe be to the kid with a best friend and boyfriend in the same class. Actually no, Christy Brown can suck a lemon.

  The teacher's dry voice cut through the whispers. "Be quiet! No one will be left out. There are only three riddles, and if all three are answered correctly, the entire class will be dismissed. The quicker you are to answer, the sooner all of you get to go home." Silence descended, and Mrs. Dawn's dry lips stretched into another smile.

  A cruel smile filled with plots and secret knowledge.

  A roomful of anxious eyes followed her as she stalked to the seat of Grant Williams. Commonly believed to be the smartest kid in school, no one was surprised he would be chosen to go first.

  Grant, seated at the desk closest to the teacher's, was dressed in what could be mistaken for a school uniform. Marking himself out for the bullies, he wore a navy blue over shirt with matching shorts, and a white undershirt completed the ensemble.

  His fate was sealed long before anyone noticed his favorite seat in every class was as far up the teacher's butt as he could fit comfortably. Samantha had always felt sorry for him, but she had her own problems to deal with.

  Blissfully unaware of his status at the very bottom of the social totem pole, he bounced in his seat at all the attention.

  I wonder what possessed his parents to dress him like that. I mean, it must have been his parents. No kid would choose to have milk dumped on their head at least once a week for their entire school career. They should have sent him to Military School, it would have been a kinder fate.

  Eyeing him as a cat would a particularly juicy mouse, Mrs. Dawn set a worn wind-up timer at the edge of his desk. "Mister Williams, your grades have earned you the honor of the first attempt. Are you prepared?"

  Grant smiled. "Of course, I am prepared Mrs. Dawn. Will I need any of my notes?" He reached for the zipper of his painfully organized bag.

  Trap set, the Wicked Witch of Welbore High stared down her prey. The only question on our Villain's mind was, when would the child realize he should have fled before his name was called?

  "No, Mister Williams. You will not need any notes besides what you keep in your brain." Two spidery fingers pushed her glasses higher on her narrow nose. "Now answer carefully Grant but think fast. You have sixty seconds, and you may only attempt to answer each riddle a single time." Mrs. Dawn glanced down at a small brown notebook she habitually carried and twisted the timer to begin. "What is broken without being held?"

  Samantha held her breath. A good plan involves knowledge, planning, skill, and most importantly, proper timing. I cannot afford to miss a single detail of my foe's plot if I hope to properly disrupt it.

  Mrs. Dawn waited, openly grinning at the nervous boy.

  A deeper hush fell over the other students as the situation became clear. It was a trick. No one was going home early. Mrs. Dawn would hold them until the bell, demanding an answer to her impossible riddle.

  Her true self showing through at last, the other students saw what the Villainous Laserbird had known all along. Heroes are the true enemy.

  The previously confident Grant hunched in his seat, flinching more with every ticking turn of the clock. Occasionally he dared a peek at his teacher's face, but each time was met only by that terrifying grin. There would be no help for him.

  Silently, the room watched the perplexed teenager. It was like the sun had risen on a day where Commander Sunstone had lost a battle, or Magnaforce had stepped on a nail by accident. Grant didn’t know the answer.

  The timer burst into frenzied life, and the teenager jumped as if he'd been punched. "I didn't realize this was a riddle Mrs. Dawn. Are there any hints available?"

  She silently shook her head, her mouth showing more teeth.

  "Well then, I am happy to say I have the answer." He stared uncertainly up at her, offering a passable impression of a dog begging for a treat. "The answer is a promise, Mrs. Dawn."

  His fawning tone sent the rest of the room into nervous laughter.

  Samantha slapped a hand over her mouth to smother a massive giggle fit. He might like it if she gave him a pat on the head and told him what a good boy he is. I should have brought some doggy treats to throw his way. Oh well, can't win them all.

  Mrs. Dawn coolly surveyed her students, tapping her foot until the last of the laughter died out. She turned her smirk back to the poor kid. "I am afraid not, Mister Grant."

  Samantha unzipped her backpack and reached for the only thing inside it. A heavy drawstring bag. You aren't nearly as clever as you think you are, Mrs. Dawn. I'm waiting for you, and I have your answer.

  She slipped her other hand into her belt pouch, checking both of her phones were in place. Everything was as it should be, ready for her time on stage. The ignorant might call it a fanny pack, but I prefer belt pouch. It has more pizzazz.

  Whispers spread throughout the front row.

  Probably worried she is going to hurt herself smiling like that. Those muscles haven't seen this much use since last year.

  Mrs. Dawn passed her judgment. "For failing to answer my riddle, you will be staying until five minutes after the bell."

  Grant's shock echoed across the room in a wave. The smartest kid in school would be punished for not being smart enough; punished for trying and failing. If Grant couldn't do it, who could? Even that discussion quickly dropped off in the face of Mrs. Dawn's twisted grin. No one knew what to do or say, especially not poor Grant, quietly wiping away tears.

  Samantha rolled her eyes at the whole room. Thus, the true nature of the trap was revealed...and how emotionally stunted Grant truly is. Seriously man, grow the hell up...and why is anyone surprised? She's evil incarnate. If she were actually a Prime, her power would be kicking puppies and cackling.

  Swiftly dismissing the boy, the monster set her sights on a certain brown-eyed girl in the back row. An athletic girl playing with the zipper on her backpack, pretending to be unaware of the predatory gaze now resting on her thin shoulders.

  Mrs. Dawn's voice rang out as if she were a knight challenging a dragon to single combat. Confident and foolishly unafraid. "Samantha Gray, this moment of truth is deeply fitting. This is where your partners-in-crime discover the truth of your many lies. As the second highest grade in my class, you will attempt my riddle next."

  Delinquent's row turned to Samantha in shock.

  Before this moment, most of the other students had believed her grades were barely enough to squeak into the next year. Most suspected her endless pranks were an attempt to distract from her inability to study, an image she had carefully maintained with lies, fake evidence, and more than a few threats.

  Eyes flashing, Samantha leaped out of her seat before her full name was even called. "I don't need anyone, Mrs. Dawn, and I don't care if they know how smart I am." She faced the room from her corner, medium length brown hair thrown back over her shoulders, and feet planted in a pose reminiscent of a martial artist facing a horde of charging ninjas. Crap, I spent weeks planning this and I'm still nervous.

  As if sensing the kung-fu vibe, Mrs. Dawn motioned her forward with the tips of her fingers on one wrinkled hand.

  Samantha kept her focus on her opponent as she sauntered past the few desks between her and the aisle down the center of the room. She stopped at her end of the empty space, backpack on her shoulders and the heavy drawstring bag in hand. At last, I am revealed, and at last, I will have my revenge.

  They stood there for a moment, matching defiant glares.

  With infinite patience, Mrs. Dawn pressed the timer into motion.

  Now is definitely time for some Clint Eastwood music. Make my day, Terror of Welbore.

  For all her years of terrorizing the students of Welbore High School, Mrs. Dawn held the undisputed title of Destroyer of Hopes and Dreams. Just as surely, Samantha Gray had held the title of Most Likely to Earn Detention.

  It's better, safer, when everyone thinks I'm stupid. No family, no friends, no one to have my back among the rumors and petty squabbles. Still, even w
ith my handicaps, I've run some great plots through these halls, right under everyone's noses.

  The older woman's watery blue eyes held Samantha's angry honey brown gaze. Through a tightly clenched jaw, she asked again. "I asked you a question, Miss Gray. What is broken without being held?"

  Heartbroken sniffles from the front row, and the ticking of the clock, were the only sounds in the room. Even poor Grant Williams peeked between his fingers to watch through his tear-streaked eyes. This showdown had been a long time coming, and no one wanted to miss its conclusion.

  Now that her long-planned moment had arrived; Samantha took her time to savor it. As crowning moments of revenge go, this is almost as excellent as blowing up Parliament to the sound of the 1812 Overture.

  Waving happily at the bitch squad in the front row, who each added their hatred to Mrs. Dawn's disdain, she blew a kiss to Christy Brown who sat among them. The Bitch Queen, her nemesis, would be dealt with later this evening. Next, Samantha aimed an elaborate curtsy towards the football team, and their captain, Trevor Bryant. She held it until he smiled.

  The clock ticked away its precious seconds.

  In her best fake English accent, Samantha offered up an explanation. "I'm sure you are all wondering why I have called you here today. I must say that verily, rather than myself, it is you and your vexing lack of vision that has trapped each of you in this place."

  Mrs. Dawn eyed Samantha wearily. Seemingly taken aback by her complete lack of fear.

  "Miss Gray, I am certain the other students are ready to go home, and you have used up forty-five of your sixty seconds already. Please get on with your attempt to answer my riddle or admit you cannot and sit down. The clock is ticking for those who actually want to leave."

  "Don't be silly, Mrs. Dawn. I think everyone has figured out the truth. No one is leaving early." Samantha smiled a secret smile of her own.