by Paul Aertker
Astrid unfolded the Good Company Gazette in front of her. Lucas approached and read the headline: GOOD COMPANY SEEKS DAMAGES IN PARISIAN BUS CRASH.
Lucas fell into a fog as self-doubt filled his mind. He argued with himself. Did I save those kids? Or did I almost kill them?
Another new student appeared. Lucas recognized him from the back parking lot. He was a massive kid with plenty of facial hair. The boy was wrapped in a thick white serape. Lucas thought he looked like a hairy burrito.
The kid bellowed, “Way to go, Lucas!”
Astrid slid over and stood next to Lucas. “That’s Mac,” she said.
Jackknife leaned in and added, “As in Big Mac.”
“How old is he?” Nalini asked.
“Old,” Gini said.
“I think,” said Jackknife, “that he’s like forty-seven years old.”
“He’s got a full beard,” Lucas said, “like he needs to shave!”
Mac marched toward the crowd that had gathered in front of the elevators.
“He just turned fourteen,” Astrid whispered. “And he’s going to be your new roommate, Jackknife. I’ve seen the list.”
“Oh no,” Jackknife said.
“Wait till you see who your roommate is, Lucas,” Astrid said.
“Who?”
“Just wait.”
ROOMIES
At that moment everyone turned toward the middle of the grand hall. Coming down the center of the long rock corridor was the head of school.
Dr. Joan Kloppers was walking on the now-stalled moving sidewalk, clapping her minuscule hands. Lucas was medium height, but he was at least a head taller than the new head of school.
Dr. Kloppers was the perfect leader for a New Resistance Hotel-School. She wore tiny red glasses on a round happy face that made the little kids at school want to climb in her lap for reading time. She supposedly could read in fifteen different languages.
This morning her long silver jacket drifted behind her as she parted the swarm of new kids who had gathered in front of Lucas. Behind her, a giant ball of yellow fur followed.
Cloudy was a white-faced golden retriever with sweet eyes. The old dog weaved through the mob of students, his tail wagging. Strapped to his back he carried two baskets filled with class schedules. As he passed, kids petted him and picked out their school programs.
Dr. Kloppers climbed a circular staircase that rose about halfway up a stone wall. She stopped at the landing and spoke to the students. The new kids clustered together under the podium.
“Welcome,” she said. “Welcome to a new year at the New Resistance Hotel-School in Las Vegas, Nevada!”
The students clapped politely.
Dr. Kloppers was originally South African, and she spoke English with an Afrikaner accent. Beautiful yet forceful.
“As you may know,” Dr. Kloppers continued, “this is a school to train students to be world leaders, and while we permit creative rule breaking in the pursuit of some greater good in the future, I must caution you that today there are forces we currently have to deal with that could put several of you in danger.”
She gestured toward Jackknife. “Mr. Cabral here, as you may have heard, was nearly brainwashed in Paris by Ms. Siba Günerro, the head of the Good Company. We could have lost this young man.” Dr. Kloppers paused for effect. “This is my first year here at this school, but I have been with Mr. Benes and the New Resistance School for nearly two decades, and in that time I’ve never lost a student, and I don’t intend it to happen on my watch.” She glared at Lucas. “So I don’t need frivolous risk taking or rooftop campouts. Is that clear?”
More head nodding and silence followed this speech.
“I know you are all anxious about getting your room assignments,” she said.
The whole cavern erupted in applause with whistles and foot stomping. In a moment the group fell silent, except for Big Mac, who was still clapping louder and longer than anyone.
The head of school tapped the screen on the podium.
Lucas could feel his heart beating faster as he worried about his new roommate situation. He had already lost Astrid as a roommate earlier in the summer and was just beginning to come back to the idea of sleeping inside his hotel room again. Alone.
He scooted closer to Jackknife. “I didn’t tell anybody who I wanted—did you?”
“Nope,” said Jackknife. “Do you really think Astrid was right?”
“Astrid’s always right.”
“I hope she was joking about me getting Big Mac,” Jackknife said, shaking his head. “A guy that big, you just know that when he’s asleep, he farts up a massive storm.”
Lucas snorted.
Travis slid between Jackknife and Lucas and looped his arms around both of them. He clucked his head toward a kid in a bow tie. “We don’t have a dress code now, do we?”
“I feel bad for that kid,” Lucas said. “They should have told him.”
“What’s the school going to say?” Jackknife asked. “Don’t dress like a dork?”
Travis said, “At least not on your first day.”
“If Big Mac is my roommate,” Jackknife said, looking at Lucas, “then that means you’re probably getting the bow-tie guy.”
Lucas felt a little cheated. He was just starting to feel comfortable in Tier One. He wished he could have given the school some criteria of what kind of kids he liked to hang out with. Like Jackknife and Travis. He didn’t need anybody new. Not right now.
Dr. Kloppers looked down at the new students. “Keeping with our nontraditional way of doing things here at the New Resistance, I’ll call your names in random order,” she said. “From Australia,” she announced, “we’re proud to have Elizabeth Zerbe!”
There was a huge round of clapping as a twelve-year-old girl wearing a tennis outfit cut through from the new kids’ group. She waved excitedly.
The cheers died down, and Dr. Kloppers spoke again. “Elizabeth,” she said, “likes tennis, as you can well see, and goes by the nickname Zibby.”
Robbie Stafford, a fifth-year-senior Australian, led the cheers and whistles. He called out, “Zibby Zerbe! From Down Under!”
“Zibby,” said Dr. Kloppers. “You will be rooming with Lily Hill.”
Lily emerged from the crowd, her red pigtails bouncing. She stood next to Zibby Zerbe while some of the other girls gathered around them.
Terry Hines joked out loud, “Lily Hill and Zibby Zerbe?” he said. “What is this, roommate poetry?” Everyone laughed, until he said creepily, “It’s like Lu Bunguu.”
Dr. Kloppers continued calling out names, but Lucas stopped listening and turned his attention to Travis. He spoke softly so the head of school wouldn’t hear him.
“Are you getting a roommate?” Lucas asked.
“I’ve already got a roommate,” Travis said. “Walter Tillman. The dude from DC. He came last year. Remember?”
“I don’t know him,” said Lucas.
“Me either,” Jackknife said, poking his head into the conversation.
Lucas asked, “Is he even still at school?”
“Yeah,” Travis said. “You don’t see him because he sleeps all the time. I think he’s got a disease or something. He’s got this eye-twitching thing too.”
“Oh yeah,” Jackknife said. “I’ve seen that guy. In the nurse’s office. That’s your roommate?”
Lucas missed several more names being called out. He turned his attention back to the new roommates.
Dr. Kloppers continued, “Your new roommate is Melissa Rathbone from London.”
Wearing black leather pants and a jacket with studded sleeves, Melissa looked more like a Curukian bodyguard than a teenager. She walked up to her new roommate, who was wearing pink yoga clothes. The girls looked at each other, awkwardly shook hands, and then giggled.
Jackknife slapped Lucas on the arm. “I heard Astrid is getting a roommate.”
“That’s because,” Travis said, “she’s going to be a resident assistant on t
he girls’ floor.”
Dr. Kloppers read the next names. “From Germany we have Emma Weiss.” Everyone clapped. “You will be rooming with Li Ha from China.”
Two girls, one with long blond curls and the other with straight black hair, literally jumped in the air and clapped. They hugged each other like they had been best friends forever.
Lucas thought that together they looked like a giant tumbleweed of hair.
Two more names were called that Lucas missed. He could sense himself retreating to his old self, his old, insecure self—the one that worried about being noticed.
He thought, Why is it that the last guy picked is always the last guy picked?
As Dr. Kloppers read through the next few names on her list, Lucas eyed his possible roommates. If Astrid was right and Jackknife was getting Big Mac as a roommate, then Lucas might actually be getting the guy with the bow tie.
Lucas cataloged the boy’s look. His skin was pale, and his cheeks had two red dots. He wore a paisley bow tie, a pink-and-green-striped button-down shirt, perfectly pressed khakis with pleats, and loafers with a shiny shilling in the penny-holding slot. And he had a briefcase!
Then Lucas heard Dr. Kloppers. “This is a mouthful of a name. But we are lucky, fortunate I should say, to have this young man, this gentleman, with us. I am privileged to introduce, from the Falkland Islands, Mr. Alister Thanthalon Laramie Nethington the Fourth.”
Lucas was trying to figure out if this name was more than one person or not when he heard Dr. Kloppers speak again.
“Your roommate, Alister, will be Lucas Benes.”
A group of new students cheered as Alister scuttled in front of the remaining crowd, the dots on his cheeks glowing. Lucas focused on the bow tie. He thought it looked like a little airplane propeller buzzing right at him. Alister set his briefcase down next to Lucas and extended his hand. He gave Lucas a firm handshake, and Lucas nodded but didn’t say anything because behind him he heard Jackknife moaning.
“From Damascus, the capital of Syria!” Dr. Kloppers called out. “Mac MacDonald!”
“That’s weird,” Travis muttered. “Mac from Syria?”
Big Mac came barreling straight through the crowd, knocking two girls to the side. The giant teenager stood in front of Dr. Kloppers’s podium like a soldier reporting for duty. Up close the guy really did look like a grown man. He had an unshaven beard on his cheeks and neck, and underneath the white burrito blanket he wore a pair of blue-jean overalls.
“Mac,” Dr. Kloppers said, “your new roommate is Paulo Cabral.”
Big Mac clapped by beating his hands together like an orangutan. He sprang up on his feet and pumped his arm as if he had just won a tournament. He approached Jackknife with two open palms.
“Jackknife!” he yelled. “I read your whole bio! You’re from Brazil. Cool. I already know how to do some of your tricks. Check this out.”
The oversize teenager then proceeded to do a standing back flip right there in front of everyone. Lucas had to admit it was cool, but the timing was odd.
Mac raised both arms and gave Jackknife a high ten, nearly suffocating the Brazilian with his armpits. Mac also wore a necklace with a rock pendant that slapped Jackknife in the nose.
The head of school called out a few more names, but Lucas was focusing on trying to say his roommate’s name.
Alister Thanthalon Laramie Nethington the Fourth, Lucas practiced in his mind. The fourth? That means there are three other people with this name?
Dr. Kloppers’s eyes beamed at the kids while she extended her right arm out to welcome them. “We are all thrilled to have you with us as part of the New Resistance family. Welcome!”
There came a giddy and clamorous burst of noise and applause with cheering and whistling everywhere.
“A reminder!” Dr. Kloppers said over the ruckus. “Security will be tight tonight and for the foreseeable future. No student may go out of bounds or into restricted areas. That includes the file room, and no sleeping on the roof.”
She glared at Lucas.
Lucas nodded obediently, but something told him that he wouldn’t be able to follow the rules perfectly.
CODE
Dr. Kloppers clapped again.
“One last thing,” she said. “We have a special treat today. The Grotto cafe will be serving fresh dough-nuts. But let’s not all rush there immediately.”
No one listened. The entire student body of the hotel-school split into two groups, each trying to get to the Grotto fastest. The student lounge and cafe was located three-quarters of the way down the left-hand side hallway. Half of the students bottlenecked on this side, while the others raced down the right side of the enormous cave and looped back into the cafe. Either way there would be a wait.
Lucas got in line behind Travis and overheard him talking to a boy with greasy hair.
“That’s why I woke you up early,” Travis said.
“Yeah,” the boy said. “I get bored in English. All those words just make me fall asleep.”
“Walter,” Travis said. “Everything makes you fall asleep.”
Seeing Travis with his roommate reminded Lucas that he might actually make an effort with his new roommate. It was always hard to be a new kid in any school. They didn’t have to be friends forever, but at least Lucas could be nice to the kid on his first day at school. He turned around and motioned for Alister to catch up with him.
“Thanks,” Alister said, trotting up.
The line to get free doughnuts in the Grotto came to a standstill.
Lucas made light conversation. “So you’re from the Falklands?” he asked.
“Sure am,” Alister said with a Scottish accent. “Born in Scotland, raised in the Falklands.”
“Cool.”
Alister lowered his eyes and his voice. “I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
He whispered, “FLK in your birth chart doesn’t mean Funny Looking Kid.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s part of a code.”
DOUGHNUTS
Lucas had two burning questions.
What did Alister mean about FLK being a code? FLK—Funny Looking Kid—was simply a signal doctors wrote on birth charts to let people know that the baby had been born odd-looking.
And the real question was how did Alister Thanthalon Laramie Nethington the fourth know that doctors had written FLK in Lucas’s birth chart in the first place?
By the time Lucas and Alister got to the cafe entrance, several students were already cutting back through the tide with armloads of doughnuts. The air was thick with sugar.
The Grotto was a classic coffee shop that looked like a library inside a rock cave. The back wall was stone, polished to show the geochronology of the rock. The side wall was covered from floor to ceiling with print books packed so tightly that you could hardly pull one out. Squishy, metal barstools surrounded a huge counter that served peppermint hot chocolates, caramel lattes, muffins, and scones.
And today, doughnuts.
Every booth and barstool was taken.
The kitchen was a perfect place to grill someone—for answers.
Lucas told Alister to follow him. The two boys wormed through the crowded cafe, back behind the bar, into the kitchen through the double doors.
Cooks in white uniforms were frying all kinds of dough. Lucas recognized an older woman wearing a hairnet. She was loading trays of hot, fresh doughnuts onto an aluminum rack. In the back, a guy wearing headphones was doing the dishes.
Lucas stopped Alister in the middle of the kitchen. “How do you know what was written in my birth chart when it has been in the file room for twelve years?”
“My father knew your mother,” Alister said.
“Which one?”
“Which one what?” Alister asked.
“Which mother?” Lucas asked, then he explained. “I had two mothers. A birth mother and Astrid’s mother, who adopted me for like a day.”
“Well, t
hen,” said Alister. “My father knew your birth mother. Luz Kapriss.”
Lucas walked behind a tall rack of cooking trays to give the woman wearing the hairnet a hug. Then he took a clean tray, and he and Alister made their selections.
It was doughnut heaven. Glazed, maple, cinnamon-sugar, and plain-cake doughnuts. On the next tray the doughnuts were covered with toppings he had never imagined. Oreos, crushed M&M’s, Froot Loops, chocolate bars, marshmallows, and Nutella. On the third tray were some international doughnuts—French crullers, Iranian zulubiyas, Indian jalebis, black-sesame-seed doughnuts from China. And Brazilian sonhos that were supposedly so good you would fall asleep if you ate too many of them.
Lucas and Alister each took a tray filled with doughnuts out of the kitchen and back into the Grotto. Jackknife, Travis, and Astrid crammed into the last open booth. Nalini was carrying Gini, and she sat with them. Astrid shoved the dirty dishes toward the back wall as Lucas and Alister slid the trays onto the tabletop.
Everyone dug in.
Since there was no room on the benches, Lucas and Alister stood next to the table. Alister set his briefcase on the floor. Lucas couldn’t wait to find out what Alister knew and why.
“How do you know all this stuff about me?” Lucas asked Alister.
“My father is a banker in the Falklands,” Alister said. “And he knew your mother. Your birth mother.”
Everyone sitting at the booth stopped eating and listened to Alister.
“Twelve years ago your mother contacted my father,” Alister said, “about safeguarding a large sum of money.” Alister wiped his mouth with a napkin. “But that’s not the real problem.”
“Well,” Astrid said, “what is?”
“The problem is that no one can locate one of the accounts.”
Jackknife put down the doughnut he had just picked up. “Isn’t the money in your father’s bank?”
“There’s some cash, yes,” Alister said. “But one of the accounts is the largest safety-deposit box ever—it’s actually a shipping container that supposedly has more than just money in it.”
