Among the Imposters sc-2

by Margaret Peterson Haddix

  Luke didn’t move.

  He didn’t want to go back to school. Not now, not ever. There wasn’t anything there for him. He knew that now. No friends, no helpful teachers, no good choices. He was just like some windup toy there, marching mindlessly from class to class, meal to meal, trying not to be watched.

  Just the thought of school made his stomach churn.

  “You can’t make me go back,” Luke muttered, though he wasn’t sure who he thought he was defying.

  That was settled. So where else could he go?

  Home.

  Luke was overcome with a stronger longing than he’d ever felt before. To see Mother again, to see Dad… This was how miserable Luke felt: He even missed his brothers. He watched a chipmunk race across the ground. The chipmunk’s feet barely seemed to touch. It could be just that easy for Luke, going home. All he had to do was start walking.

  But.

  He didn’t know how to get there. Even if he had a map, he wouldn’t be able to find his parents’ farm on it.

  He didn’t have his fake I.D. card with him. He didn’t carry it at school. He could picture it clearly, tucked in the pocket at the back of his suitcase. He couldn’t go back for it. And getting caught without an I.D. card was as good as admitting, “I’m a third child. Kill me.”

  Luke tried to pretend those weren’t obstacles. He still couldn’t picture a perfect homecoming.

  Even if he managed to find his family’s farm without running into the Population Police first, he’d just be bringing danger with him. The penalties for harboring an illegal child were almost as harsh as the penalty for being an illegal child. Every second he’d lived with his parents, he’d put their lives in jeopardy. And now there was a record of his existence. If he disappeared now, someone would have to look for him. And when they found him, cowering in his family’s attic, they’d be sure to find out the truth as well.

  Luke picked up a pebble and threw it far into the woods. It wasn’t fair. His only choices were to be miserable at school or a virtual murderer at home. He threw another pebble, and another. Not fair, not fair, not fair. He ran out of pebbles and switched to bark chips, peeled off the log beside him. Some of the pebbles and bark chips hit tree trunks with a satisfying thud. Luke began aiming.

  “Take that!” he yelled, forgetting himself.

  Then, terrified, he clapped his hand over his mouth. How could he be so stupid?

  He froze, listening so hard, his ears began to buzz. But there was no sound of anyone tramping through the woods looking for him. There was no sound from the school at all. Peering around at the ferns and the trees and the sunlight filtering through the branches, Luke could practically convince himself the school didn’t exist at all.

  It was a shame he couldn’t just stay here.

  Luke had a moment of hope — he could live on nuts and berries. He could hide in the trees whenever they came looking for him.

  But that was a childish plan. He dismissed it immediately. If he stayed in the woods, he’d be caught or starve.

  He glanced around again, this time regretfully. The trees looked friendlier than any of the boys or teachers at schools. He was a farm boy who’d spent most of his life outdoors, until the woods were cut down behind his house. Just being outside was a joy. And no matter how much he’d risked, running out here, it was wonderful to be alone, not packed in and watched at every turn.

  Luke dug the toe of his fancy Baron shoe into the dirt and stood up. He’d come to a decision without realizing it. He had to go back to school. He owed it to his family, and Jen’s dad, and maybe even Jen herself.

  But nothing could stop him from visiting the woods again.

  Ten

  Luke put off returning to school as long as possible. His stomach growled and he ignored it. The angle of the sun’s rays grew sharper and sharper, but he consoled himself, “It’s still daylight. It just starts looking like twilight sooner, when you’re deep in the woods.”

  Finally he could ignore the truth no longer. It was getting dark. And even if nobody had noticed his absence so far, he’d be missed at bedtime. Jackal boy was sure to complain if Luke wasn’t there for him to pick on.

  Strangely, that thought almost made him feel good.

  Luke didn’t stop to figure that one out. He strode to the edge of the woods, looked around carefully, then took off running across the lawn.

  Halfway to the school, he was struck by a horrible thought: What if the door was locked?

  A few steps later, he was close enough to tell: The door wasn’t open anymore. It wasn’t even ajar.

  Luke dashed even faster across the lawn, as if he could outrun his panic. His heart pounded, and it wasn’t just from running. He’d been so stupid, going out the door in the first place. Or, if he’d had to step outside, why hadn’t he gone back right away? Why had he risked everything for a day in the woods?

  He knew why.

  Luke was finally close enough to touch the doorknob. He reached out with a trembling hand, prepared for the worst.

  Stay calm, stay calm, he told himself. If it’s locked, maybe you can find another door that works. Maybe you can still slip back in undetected. Maybe. . Luke didn’t have much faith in “maybes.”

  Hopelessly, he twisted the knob.

  The knob turned easily.

  Barely daring to believe his luck, Luke pulled the door open a crack. He couldn’t see anyone, so he slid in and let the door close behind him. It was dark at this end of the hall. He appreciated the shadows.

  Luke was tiptoeing past vacant classrooms when he heard the shout.

  “Hey! What are you doing down here?”

  It was one of the hall monitors.

  “I–I got lost,” Luke said, not stammering any more than he would have under normal circumstances. And the excuse was entirely plausible — hadn’t he been lost a million times so far at school? But he didn’t know what he was missing. Supper? The evening lecture? Lights out?

  The hall monitor peered at him suspiciously

  “Nobody’s supposed to be in this wing of the building right now,’ he said. “Why did you leave the dining hail?” Luke got a sudden inspiration.

  “I got sick,’ he said. “I ran out to go to the bathroom. Then I got lost when I was going back”.

  The hall monitor looked skeptical.

  “The bathroom’s right across from the dining hall,’ he said.

  “I–I wasn’t paying attention. I’m new. I was sick.” Luke tried to look dumb enough — and queasy enough — to have made such a stupid mistake.

  The hall monitor took a step back, like he didn’t want to catch anything.

  “Okay,’ he relented. “Go back immediately”.

  Relieved, Luke turned to go. Then he stopped. Only the day before, he would have obeyed unthinkingly But now he had a secret to protect. Now he had to be crafty He turned back to the monitor.

  “I don’t know how to get there. Remember?’

  “Oh, for crying out loud. Why do I have to baby-sit all the leckers?’ He took Luke’s arm and jerked him to the right “Go that way Thin left at the first hallway then left and right again. Just get out of here!”

  The hall monitor sounded a little panicked himself The day before, Luke wouldn’t have noticed, but now he had to pay attention. Something about that door, Luke thought Why is the hail monitor so desperate to get me away from it?

  Luke was still pondering that question when he reached the doors to the dining hall. They burst open, and boys streamed out. Luke’s timing was perfect He’d gotten there just as everyone was heading toward the evening lecture. He blended in. See, Mr. Talbot? he thought bitterly I am following the only bit of advice you saw fit to give me. Aren’t you proud? Mighty generous of you, I’m sure.

  But some of Luke’s bitterness had eased. The note had been worthless, but he had the woods to think about now. And if the note had led him to the woods — well, he did have reason to be grateful to Jen’s dad, didn’t he?

  N
obody challenged Luke as he walked into the lecture room and sat down. Nobody asked, “Where have you been all day?’ Nobody ordered him, “Never leave this building again!’

  He’d gotten away with it. He could get away with it again.

  Eleven

  Luke longed to race straight to the woods as soon as he woke up the next morning. It was torture to stand patiently beside all the other boys, splashing water on his face. It was torture to sit still and slowly spoon in the lumpy oatmeal, when he longed to gulp it down and get out of there. (Though, since he’d missed two meals the day before, it was amazing how delicious the oatmeal seemed for once.) It was torture waiting for the cafeteria doors to open and release everyone else to classes, and Luke to the woods.

  As soon as breakfast was over, he took off, all but running. Surprisingly, given how confused he usually got in the Hendricks halls, he managed to make a beeline straight for the door, without once making a wrong turn and having to retrace his steps. Approaching the door, he slowed down, waiting for the crowd to clear in the hall. Finally, there was only Luke and a hall monitor, several yards away The door wasn’t open today, but Luke was confident that it wasn’t locked. He was confident that he could slip out quickly enough. He glanced back. The monitor was looking the other way. Now! Luke reached for the doorknob—

  — and then drew back.

  At the last minute, it was like someone or something screamed, “No!’ in his mind. Mother had talked about God sometimes — maybe that’s who it was. Or maybe it was Jen’s spirit, come to help Luke when her father’s note hadn’t Maybe it was just Luke’s own common sense. Luke didn’t know what he thought about God or ghosts or even his own intelligence, but he knew: He couldn’t risk going to the woods today.

  Luke walked on, pretending to be casually.dawdling.

  “Get to class,” the monitor growled.

  Luke nodded, and stepped into the next classroom he passed. He felt as disappointed as if he’d discovered bars on the door. What was he — a coward?

  Luke remembered all the mind games he’d played with himself trying to get up the nerve to go to Jen’s house that first time. He’d waited weeks, always telling himself he was just waiting for the right moment. He had been a coward then.

  But he wasn’t being a coward now. Sinking into a seat, as anonymous as every other boy in the room, he actually felt brave, clever, crafty.

  Probably he’d just gotten lucky the day before. If he wanted to be able to go the woods again and again and again, without getting caught, he’d have to be smart about it. He’d have to pay attention to everything. Maybe he’d even have to figure out why the hall monitor the night before had been so panicky Before he went back again, he’d have to know it was safe.

  Luke looked around the room. Up front, the teacher was drawing complicated-looking mathematical formulas on the chalkboard. Luke couldn’t have solved any of them if his life depended on it. But for once, instead of sinking into despair and staring down at the desk in front of him, Luke got the nerve to peer around at the other boys. A few were watching the teacher. A few were taking notes — er, no, they were drawing pictures of naked girls. Some were blatantly sleeping, their mouths slack-jawed. And some were sitting off to the side, their arms clutched around their legs, rocking.

  Luke stared. He didn’t have much to go on, since he’d only known six people before in his entire life, but that rocking certainly didn’t seem like normal behavior.

  Eventually the bell rang, and he stumbled into another class. It was the same there: some boys acting normal, some boys rocking endlessly.

  Why hadn’t he noticed anything like that before?

  He knew why. Every other time he’d looked directly at any of the other boys, he’d glanced quickly, then looked away, for fear that they might actually look back.

  You could miss a lot, doing that.

  Walking through the hall to his next class, Luke tried an experiment: He stared directly into the eyes of every single boy who went past him.

  It was terrifying — even worse than running blindly across a lawn. Luke’s stomach seized up, and he thought he might actually throw up his breakfast oatmeaL He thought his legs might crumple under him, in fear.

  But it was also interesting.

  Most of the other boys he passed looked away as soon as Luke made eye contact. Some of them seemed to have a sort of sixth sense that warned them off from letting Luke look at them in the first place. Only two or three stared boldly back, their eyes locked on Luke’s just as Luke’s were locked on theirs.

  Remember them, Luke ordered himself. But it took all his willpower just to keep himself from looking away.

  When he finally arrived in a classroom doorway, Luke was shaking all over.

  I gave something away, just then, he thought. Now they’ll know.

  But he didn’t know who “they” were.

  Twelve

  Luke made himself wait an entire week before he went back to the woods. But in that time, no matter how closely he paid attention to everything, the mysteries only seemed to multiply.

  For example, by the end of the week, Luke was even more baffled by the lack of windows than ever before. Because he’d discovered: There wasn’t a single window in the entire place.

  To learn that, Luke had to make himself figure out the floor plan of the entire school. He had to be sure that he peeked into every classroom, every sleeping room, every office. One morning at breakfast, he even pretended to get turned around and plowed straight into the kitchen. Two cooks screamed, and Luke was given a stern lecture and a record ten demerits, but he found out what he wanted to know: Even the kitchen lacked windows.

  Why? Why would anyone build a windowless school?

  Luke wondered if there’d been something unusual about his family’s house, that it had had windows, and he’d just accepted it as the norm. But, no — all the houses and schools and other buildings Luke had seen in books had had windows. And when the Government built Jen’s neighborhood, all the houses there had windows. And Jen’s family and their neighbors were Barons — if Baron houses had windows, why didn’t Baron schools?

  Luke couldn’t figure out the other boys, either. There were rocking boys in most of his classes, he realized now. Several times, Luke practically hypnotized himself staring at them. But they seemed harmless enough.

  The boys who worried Luke were the ones he called “the starers”—the ones who looked back when he looked at them.

  All the hall monitors were starers.

  So was jackal boy.

  Luke tried to tell himself that the starers bothered him only because he’d spent so much time in hiding. Of course he didn’t like being stared at. They were probably just acting normal, and he was in danger of giving away his real identity by getting disturbed by it.

  Somehow he couldn’t believe that.

  At night when jackal boy tormented him, Luke kept his eyes trained careftilly on the ground. But he could feel jackal boy’s gaze on the side of his face as definitely as he would feel a slap or a punch.

  “Say, ‘I am an exnay of the worst order,”’ jackal boy ordered him as usual one evening.

  Luke mumbled the words. He wondered what would happen if he looked up and unleashed his questions on jackal boy: Why do you stare? Why aren’t there any windows? Why do we never go outside? Why was the door open that one day? And finally: Are there any other shadow children here?

  But of course he couldn’t ask jackal boy Jackal boy thought it was funny to make Luke wave his arms for five minutes straight. Jackal boy was only interested in humiliating Luke. He’d probably think it was amusing to tell the Population Police, “I know where you can find a third child. How big~s my reward?”

  So Luke bit his tongue and gritted his teeth and touched his finger to his nose fifty times, as ordered. He jogged in place until his legs ached. He reached for his toes again and again, until jackal boy said in a bored voice, “Get out of my sight”.

  Luke crawled into be
d unsure whether to be relieved that he hadn’t blown his cover, or disappointed that he hadn’t found the answers to his questions.

  That night in bed, he was too busy puzzling over all his mysteries to even think about whispering his own name. When he had his pretend conversations, he asked advice, instead of offering apologies.

  What do you think, len? What’s wrong with this place? Is there something wrong? You went out into the world on fake passes all the time. Do people everywhere act like the boys at Hendricks?

  And, Mother, Dad, what’s your opinion? Is it okay if I go out into the woods again?

  But it was ridiculous to feel like he had to get permission from parents he’d never see again. Or to ask advice from a friend who was dead. It was just too bad that that was all he had.

  Luke swallowed a lump in his throat. He couldn’t solve the school’s mysteries. But he was going back to the woods no matter what.

  Thirteen

  Luke worked out a plan for leaving the school every day after lunch, and coming back right before dinner.

  It was sort of a compromise — he thought he ought to go to some classes, no matter how little sense they made to him. And this way he wouldn’t miss any meals. He was already hungry all the time. He already had trouble keeping his fancy Baron pants hitched up on his scrawny frame.

  The first day he left, he slipped out while the hall monitor was looking the other way. He knew now that none of the other boys would even notice.

  So easy, Luke thought to himself as he jogged across the lawn to the woods. Why don’t all the boys escape out here?

  He decided it wasn’t worth troubling himself with unanswerable questions.

  The sun was shining, and he could tell that even the leaves that had been curled up and tiny a week earlier were full grown and spread out now. High overhead, the arc of tree limbs in some parts of the woods blocked out the sky completely. It’s like a cave, Luke thought. But that reminded him of hiding and cowering indoors. He moved out into a clearing, where grass struggled to grow through last fall’s dead leaves. It looked like there were raspberry plants, too, mostly buried in tangled brush.