by Robin Caroll
“Sam, even if I did know something, I couldn’t share that information. You know that.” His tone was softer, but that didn’t help her mood any.
“Why didn’t you tell me he said the virus was created on a Mac?”
“How do you know that? Were you eavesdropping, Sam?” He’d been on her several times about eavesdropping.
“I can’t tell you my sources. You know that.” Her smugness felt good. For a moment.
“You’d better straighten up your attitude. I know reporting is important to you, but if you are disrespectful, you will be punished.”
He was right, but she didn’t have to like it.
Dad sighed again as he pulled into her school’s lot. “I guess your friend told you about the Mac. Since when did you and Felicia become friends anyway? I haven’t heard you mention her.”
Sam undid her seatbelt and grabbed her backpack. “She transferred in last nine weeks. I like her. Everyone assumes she’s bad, but she’s really a good person.” She reached for the door handle, then paused. “She didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“I know, pumpkin.” He smiled. “Have a good day. If I can’t pick you up after cheer practice, Mrs. Willis will be here.” Mom had left this morning to go on assignment for a breaking story in New York. She’d be gone most of the week.
Sam leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Bye, Dad.” She shut the door to his truck, then jogged to the cafeteria. The wind was biting cold. She should’ve worn the scarf Mom had given her for Christmas.
The heat was on full blast in the cafeteria. Sam looked around for Makayla and didn’t see her. Her bus must not have arrived yet. Maybe she could find out something while she waited. Sam left the warmth of the building to rush down the breezeway to the main office. She opted to cut through the guidance counselor’s office on her way just to get out of the cold. Sam had just passed Mrs. Creegle’s door when she heard Mrs. Trees’ voice curling down the hall.
Sam froze. She shouldn’t eavesdrop, especially considering her conversation with Dad just a few minutes ago, but was it really eavesdropping if she just stood in the middle of an empty office?
“How long is that going to take? I have parents and students alike calling me all day, wanting to know when the issue will be resolved and when the correct report cards will be sent home.” Mrs. Trees’ voice got shriller.
Sam stood perfectly still, even holding her breath, but she couldn’t hear anyone else.
“I understand you’re doing everything you can, but you need to understand that I need an estimate of when everything will be fixed. I can’t just keep putting off parents.”
The school secretary’s muffled voice drifted from the front desk. The office door opened and shut. The heater chased darts of cold air down the hallway.
“Well perhaps you should consider hiring someone else to assist in the investigation if you aren’t getting timely, satisfactory results. Parents are tired of hearing my same response.”
Sam shifted her weight and adjusted her backpack.
“I’m sure you are getting some calls. Imagine how many more you’ll be getting when I have nothing new to tell these parents when they call me.”
Wow, Mrs. Trees’ voice was as shrill as Sam had ever heard.
“You do that, Mr. Alexander. In the meantime, I’ll just direct the calls to the district office.” A clattering echoed throughout the office, followed by Mrs. Trees’ mumbling.
Now probably wasn’t the best time to ask the principal anything.
Sam turned and went back through the entrance of the counselor’s office. She pushed the door, and it swung wide open so fast that she lost her balance. She reached out to steady herself and ran smack into Officer Bill.
“Whoa there. Where’s the fire?”
“Sorry. I’m just heading to the cafeteria to wait for the bell.” She could only hope he didn’t ask her what she’d been doing. “Bye.” She took off.
“Slow it down, young lady. No running,” he called after her.
“Yes, sir,” she called back, walking at the fastest pace she could until she stepped back inside the cafeteria.
Makayla waved her over. “Why are you so late?”
“Not late. I went to the office to see if I could get some information from Mrs. Trees about the IT guy.”
“And?”
“I didn’t get to talk to her. She was on the phone, but I don’t think they’re any closer to fixing the problem.”
“Were you eavesdropping?”
“Okay, it’s starting to bother me how much you sound like my dad these days. Is he brainwashing you or something?”
Makayla wrinkled her nose. “Don’t avoid the question. You were eavesdropping.”
“I was standing in the middle of Mrs. Davies’ office. That’s hardly sneaking around and eavesdropping.” Mrs. Davies was the counselor’s secretary and an all-around great person. She dressed up in a turkey costume every year to promote the turkey trot fundraiser and didn’t seem to mind people laughing as she acted silly to get donations.
“You were listening,” Makayla admonished.
Sam shrugged. “I can’t help that Mrs. Trees talked so loud that it was impossible not to overhear.”
Grinning, Makayla shook her head. “So what’d you learn?”
“That they aren’t any closer to getting the problem fixed. Mrs. Trees was quite upset they haven’t made more progress. She’s getting a lot of calls from parents, and from what I heard, I’m betting she’s going to start directing them to the district office.”
“They should have made some progress by now.” Makayla licked her bottom lip, a true sign of her nervousness.
“Mac, you could go into the system and look around.” Sam smiled sheepishly.
“Oh, no. I’m not getting in the middle of this one.” She lifted her hands in mock surrender.
“Come on. You wouldn’t do anything, just look around. See if you can find something to help the IT team.”
“News flash, the IT team people are professionals. I’m a student.”
“Didn’t you read my article that a lot of virus creators are tweens and teens? And from what I could find out about Mr. Ben Alexander, he doesn’t have any degrees that would make him a professional.”
“You dug into the IT guy?”
“Of course. Even I figured they should’ve made some progress by now. That they haven’t . . . well, it concerns me. Doesn’t it concern you? Of course it does. Your face said it all when I told you they weren’t closer to fixing the problem.”
“But that doesn’t mean it’s one of the IT guys’ fault.”
“No? Then whose?”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, please help.”
“And if I did find something? What would I say, Sam? Oh, by the way, I was just digging around in something I had no business being in, but I found the answer to your problem. Yeah, I can so see that happening.”
“Mrs. Trees would be so excited to have her problem fixed, I doubt she’d care.”
“Really? I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
Makayla shook her head. “Think about it. If a student, any student, comes up with anything about the problem, don’t you think Mrs. Trees and the rest of the administration and district would think that student was involved with the virus in the first place?”
Oh. Right. Sam hadn’t considered that.
“And if I did go into the system and found nothing, I still might get caught because they probably have extra security now.”
Sam kicked at her backpack. “I don’t think so. They haven’t shut down access to the system in EAST, right? And they haven’t shut down the paper’s either. We’re all on a shared network, so if they changed access, those computers would have been denied.”
“True.” Makayla frowned. “Why didn’t they?”
Sam tilted her head.
“Think about it.” Makayla leaned forward. “A virus has infected our school�
��s system . . . only our school’s system. They apparently can’t find the point of origin, and have no real suspects as far as we know. The system is still compromised, yet they haven’t shut down the most basic of computer operations as a security measure. Why not?”
Sam nodded. “That’s what I’m talking about. None of this adds up.”
“It does seem a bit . . . off.”
“Yeah. You’d think the first thing they would’ve done was to cut off access while they’re looking into things. Right?”
“I would say, but maybe they’ve done something we don’t know about.”
“Like what?” Sam didn’t think they were über smart like that.
“Maybe IT put keyloggers on the system’s accessible computers.”
Sam tapped her bottom lip, thinking. “You think they put devices on all the computers to log everyone’s keystrokes? Why?”
“To get passwords?”
Sam shook her head. “I’m not following you, Mac.”
“What if they’re keeping information from us, information that they do have a lead?” Makayla’s words came out almost on top of each other. “What if they know the point of origin, but are playing dumb so whoever set the virus loose thinks they’ve gotten away with it?”
Sam wrinkled her nose. “For what purpose?”
“Well, if the computer was one of the ones here, there are a lot of students who use them. A lot. So they’d need to figure out who used that particular computer. If they had the login, but didn’t know who it belonged to, a keylogger would help them figure it out. They record not just keystrokes, but can also be programmed to record timestamps of usage.”
“There you go with that ninja computer genius stuff again.” And Makayla had certainly made a good argument. It was entirely possible there was a lead.
Makayla smiled. “Not really. I learned it in the computer research demographic group. You know, you can still change your mind and join. You’d learn a lot.”
“No thanks. I have plenty on my plate with the newspaper and cheerleading. Speaking of, are you coming to the basketball game tomorrow?”
“Can’t. Karate, remember?”
Sam stuck her bottom lip out. “Can’t you skip and come to the game? You never see me cheer anymore except at pep rallies.”
“Skip cheering and come watch my karate practice.”
Sam grinned and waggled her eyebrows, falling into their familiar old argument. “That’s just practice. Besides, everyone knows that karate isn’t a real sport or anything.”
“Oh and cheerleading is?” Mac grinned back, putting her hands on her hips.
Sam couldn’t stop it — she burst out laughing. Little Makayla looking all tough with her hands on her hips. “You make me laugh, Mac.”
“Yeah. Whatever.”
The bell rang and kids rushed through the cafeteria doors. Blasts of frigid air snaked around them. Sam shivered as she and Makayla walk-ran to their lockers.
“It’s so cold my fingers won’t work on my lock,” Sam said, blowing on her hands.
“Why aren’t you wearing gloves, silly?” Makayla reached over and spun Sam’s lock, then popped it open.
“Forgot them. And my scarf too.”
Makayla shook her head as she pulled out books. “You easily forget anything unless it has to do with reporting.”
“Hey! I can’t help that’s where my passion is.”
“Yeah, well your passion better get to moving to English class or Mrs. Beach will write you up.”
“Right. See you at lunch.” Sam slammed her locker shut and raced to the classroom. She stepped inside a good full minute before the bell rang.
“Hi, Sam.” Grace slid into the desk behind Sam.
“Hey, Grace.”
“Did you hear about Luke Jensen?”
What, was Grace on Luke patrol? “You mean besides being called to the principal’s office yesterday?”
“He has a broken arm.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. “What?” Ohmygummybears, what had happened?
“I heard he broke it at basketball practice yesterday.”
That couldn’t be. Luke hadn’t been at basketball practice yesterday. He’d been in the office. “Where’d you hear that?”
Grace shrugged. “Around.”
“How do you know he broke his arm?”
“I saw him this morning. We ride the same bus. He has a blue cast and everything.”
Mrs. Beach cleared her throat and began to take attendance.
Sam turned around in her seat and pulled out her notebook, but she was lost in thought. Luke had been fine yesterday afternoon, even if he did look really upset. She’d watched him get into the car with his dad, who looked mad.
A thought ripped around her mind that knotted in her stomach.
Had Luke’s dad been angry enough to hurt him? Mad enough to break Luke’s arm?
CHAPTER EIGHT
A broken arm did not take away from Luke Jensen’s charm. He still wore his award-winning smile and made Sam feel like English wasn’t her first language. Kids stopped by his table at lunch, scrawling their signatures in Sharpie on his blue cast.
“Are you going to sign his cast?” Makayla asked, snatching Sam’s attention.
“Uh, no.” Sam finished drinking her milk and hoped her face wasn’t too red. “I’m wondering how he broke his arm.”
“I heard he was horsing around with some guys and he fell on it,” Lana said as she plopped her tray onto the table on the other side of Sam. “What is this? Is it supposed to be a taco or burrito?”
“Who knows? That’s why I bring my lunch.” To emphasize her point, Makayla shoved a grape in her mouth.
“You bring your lunch because you’re a food freak.” Sam pointed at her best friend’s lunch. “Grapes, lettuce, carrots, and broccoli. All raw and without ranch dressing. That’s not a lunch, that’s rabbit food.”
Makayla grinned and bit off a broccoli stem.
“That’s really gross,” Sam said, hurrying to finish her lunch. They always ate rather fast so they could go outside for a bit until the bell rang.
“I think I’ll take my chances on the taco-burrito whatever.” Lana took a big bite of the tortilla wrapped mystery food. She chewed slowly, then swallowed. “Soft taco.”
Makayla shook her head. “All processed foods. Probably not even an eighth of an ounce of real food in there.”
“Tastes good, though.” Lana took another bite.
Sam grinned and looked across the cafeteria and locked stares with Luke. Her heart stuttered.
A long moment passed.
He smiled.
She smiled back.
He gave a little wave.
She waved back.
“Oh, y’all are too cute,” Lana said.
Heat flamed on Sam’s face. “What?”
“You and Luke. Y’all like each other.”
“We do not.” Sam’s face burned hotter than ever.
“Oh, okay.” Lana smiled.
Sam swallowed against a massive boulder in the back of her throat. She quickly grabbed her tray and headed to the trash can.
Aubrey Damas stepped in front of her, and her best friend, Nikki Cole, stood beside her. “Samantha, Mrs. Pape wants to see you.” She glanced over at the table where Makayla and Lana waited. “Unless, of course, you’re too busy playing with your friends.”
One. Love your neighbor as yourself. Two. She’s just trying to irritate me, don’t take the bait. Three. Love your neighbor as yourself. Four. She probably acts so mean because she’s hurting. Five. Love your neighbor — Wait. She might be hurting? Yeah, that would make a lot of sense.
“Samantha, are you listening? Hello? Are you in there?” Aubrey pointed at Sam’s head. “Anybody home up there?”
“Aubrey, stop. You’re just being mean,” Nikki said.
Aubrey turned, glaring at her best friend. “Are you really sticking up for her?”
“I’ll head over to Mrs. Pape’s room n
ow. Are you coming?” Sam stepped in, ignoring Aubrey’s meanness and sharp tongue.
“Of course I’m coming. I came all the way here to get you, didn’t I?”
“Then let’s go.” Sam gave Makayla and Lana a slight wave, then led the way out of the cafeteria, Aubrey and Nikki trailing behind her.
They walked along the cold breezeway in silence, something Sam could appreciate when it came to Aubrey. But maybe she’d hit on a reason why Aubrey was so bitter. It was possible she was lashing out because her feelings had been hurt. And they must have been hurt pretty bad for Aubrey to act like she did all the time. What would cause that? Maybe she should go out of her way to be nice to Aubrey. Maybe that’s what her resolution of loving her neighbor was really all about.
“Could you hurry it up, Samantha? I’m freezing,” Aubrey said, right on her heels.
Then again, maybe her resolution had nothing to do with Aubrey.
She opened the door to Mrs. Pape’s classroom. This was the eighth grade English teacher’s planning period. “Hi, Sam. Come on in.”
Sam blew on her freezing hands as she took a seat in one of the pulled out chairs.
“You’re getting quite a lot of hits on your article.”
“I checked before I came to school and there were about twenty.”
“There are currently five hundred and sixty-two.”
Sam’s eyes bugged. “What?”
Mrs. Pape smiled. “It’s one of the highest responses we’ve had in quite some time. Good work.”
Sam couldn’t stop her wide smile. “Thanks.”
“Now, there are a lot of comments in support of you and your reporting,” Mrs. Pape began, “and there are plenty of comments that are just sounding off as you asked.”
Where was she going with this?
“But there are also some comments that sound like there could be an agenda of some sort.”
“An agenda?”
Aubrey rolled her eyes. “You know, comments that seem like they might have come from someone involved in the whole deal.”
“We’re not saying everyone who comments is a suspect,” Mrs. Pape interrupted, “but to employ due diligence, we should follow up on them.”
