“Yes, sir.”
“And next time…well, we’d all better be more careful. I do not enjoy the thought of someone following you. You’d better come in twos from now on. We can’t afford all four of you being caught at once. We’ve put too much into this operation.”
Operation, Steel noted. He’d been right! Something was up with DesConte and the other three.
“We’re on it.”
“Go,” Randolph said.
The boys took off down the ladder and through the tunnel. A moment later the pale light from the tunnel entrance switched off. But Randolph had not moved. His silhouette squatted. Another loud blast of a ship’s horn—Randolph had triggered the valve on the farthest pipe. Steel watched as one by one the small metal arms of the valve mechanisms that were attached to the wooden bellows boxes moved toward him. Each time, a different low note, bone-jarring in volume and intensity, filled him. Randolph moved down the line—a line that came right to Steel. If he didn’t move at least a few inches, his body and limbs would block a pipe’s mechanics and prevent the note from sounding. It was as if Randolph had sensed him lying back there, and now couldn’t leave without testing his suspicions.
As the metal valve arms moved box to box, Randolph tripping each in succession, Steel lifted into a sideways push-up, supported only by the fingers of his left hand and the toe of his right foot. The valve below his elbow moved cleanly—the low note groaned. Then a valve beneath his armpit. The next was to be directly beneath his rib cage. He arched as high as he could to give the valve clearance, bending himself awkwardly and painfully. The metal arm jumped with the release of forced air. Yet another note roared—deafening him. Next were his hips, then his knees. Valve by valve, Steel contorted his body to accommodate the movement of the mechanism.
Randolph worked his way down the entire row, hesitating on the last and final note. There he paused, as if debating saying something into the darkness. A warning? An announcement?
But at last he stood and left the pipe room. As he switched off the organ, the system sighed—a release of pent-up air like an inanimate gasp.
Steel relaxed and lay back down. He waited several minutes, waited until silence had filled the chapel, waited for his own pulse to subside.
An operation.
He could hardly wait to tell Kaileigh.
Steel left Tuesday night study hall at 9:30 p.m., puzzled and confused. Not by homework—he never had any trouble with homework—but by Kaileigh. Since the events of Saturday night, he’d tried several times to get her off by herself. He had so much to tell her. At first he’d thought she was not picking up on his signals, but then it became clear there was nothing wrong with the signals; there was something wrong with Kaileigh. She wasn’t having anything to do with him. She sat on the opposite side of the classroom; looked the other way if he actually managed to catch her eye, itself a rarity.
In his typically numb-brain way, it had taken him nearly three days to trace her avoidance of him back to Harry Potter. He’d left the seat next to her empty, which was apparently an unforgivable offense. All the coolest discoveries in the world apparently couldn’t excuse him from causing her humiliation and embarrassment. Worse, he couldn’t even get close enough to her to apologize.
There was so much to tell, to think about, that he found his school studies—typically a breeze—something of a chore. Not a challenge, not hardly, but reading was time consuming; homework had to be completed, no matter how easy. Adding to his frustration, study hall lasted two hours, and even the most difficult night of assignments rarely took him more than an hour to complete, leaving him with way too much time on his hands, confined to a shared desk in what by day was the art room. He usually took advantage of the surplus time by getting ahead on his reading, but since his adventure in the pipe room he’d had trouble focusing. Having perfect recollection wasn’t always such a good thing.
He’d tried to signal Kaileigh several times during study hall. He couldn’t see how she might have missed him, but she hadn’t returned so much as a nose flare in his direction, so he gave up any thought of walking back to the dorms with her. The study hall monitor released them. Steel hung back, avoiding the first wave of kids who charged the door, secretly hoping he might connect with Kaileigh. But looking around, he realized he’d missed her somehow. Again. He headed off with the other stragglers and soon found himself alone, leaving the main building out through the post office door. He passed through the covered passageway and took the stairs down to the field level, the backside of the dormitories.
“Psst!”
He jumped with the sound. It had come from the shadows of the base of the stairs to his left. He couldn’t see anyone.
“Psst!”
DesConte? he wondered. Kaileigh? He backed nervously away from the steps.
“Steven!”
A girl’s voice. But Kaileigh never addressed him by his proper name. Was she so mad at him that she wouldn’t even use his nickname? If so, he had real problems. This was new territory.
A door opened to the passageway up the stairs, spreading light and making noise. He had to make a decision. Whoever it was obviously didn’t feel like showing herself.
Steel gathered his courage and moved toward the dark—toward the voice. Deep in the corner, where the brick of the stairs met the brick of the building, he discerned a figure standing. A blob of blackness in the gray.
“Closer,” she said.
Definitely not Kaileigh. Too tall, for one thing. He stepped deeper into the dark, his eyes quickly adjusting to the low light. And now he saw who it was.
“Nell? Nell Campbell?”
“Shhh!” She reached out and grabbed him—though exactly how she managed to reach across such a considerable distance puzzled him.
“What’s going on?” he croaked out.
She held on to him. He could smell a flowery scent, could feel blood pulsing frantically at his ears. His eyes stung. Her grip was strong as she pulled him right next to her—he could feel the warmth of her body, though they didn’t exactly touch—and she spun him around so that his back was to the bricks, and her form—a woman’s form—loomed between him and the light spilling across the fields beyond. For the briefest of moments he thought she meant to kiss him. His head swooned. He had no idea what to do, what was expected of him, and yet…he kind of wanted it to happen. This was a new discovery as well.
“I can’t be seen talking to you,” she said. Her breath smelled sweet, like lemonade or ginger ale.
“Ah…okay.”
“And I…well…I care about you.”
He found the lump in his throat too thick to push air past. He couldn’t speak.
“Care about your staying in school.”
“What?” That didn’t sound good.
“You’re studying Chinese.”
“Mandarin,” he said. “So what?”
“With Zeke Goddard.”
“Yeah?” How did she know any of this? He remembered her from the ga-ga bleachers, the way she’d cheered for him. Now she’d cornered him and was standing so close he could hear her breathing, could see the silhouette of her rib cage expanding and collapsing, like she’d been running. Or was nervous. Or anxious, he realized.
“I’m the student aide to Mrs. Jian.”
Had he known that? he wondered. It wasn’t as if he could forget anything, so he assumed he had not known it in the first place, but something told him that a girl like Nell Campbell could make him forget things—a novel and intriguing thought. He tried to open his mind to that concept.
“So?” he said, thinking how stupid a thing it was to say. He might have said any number of things, but that was what came out of his mouth.
“Zeke Goddard cheats.”
“What?”
“He cheats. On his homework. On tests. He’s a cheater.”
“Zeke? But I just met him. He seems like a—”
“That’s the point. Why do you think I’m talking to you like this?” S
he glanced over her shoulder as if afraid someone might see them.
“Well…honestly, I was wondering about that.”
“Mrs. Jian tricked Zeke. She suspected he’d been cheating, but couldn’t prove it, so she devised a trap, and he took the bait. The point is, if you’re studying with him for the quiz, which I think you are—” At this point, Steel nodded. “And you have the kind of memory everyone says you have—”
“Who’s talking about me?”
“Certain people. I can’t talk about that now. I shouldn’t be talking to you at all.”
This comment of hers puzzled him all the more. What people? Why couldn’t she tell him? Who was she?
“The point is, you have to unlearn whatever Zeke has told you. You’re studying for the quiz, right?”
“Sort of,” he said. “I don’t…studying…” He couldn’t figure out how to say it without sounding arrogant.
“If you’re caught cheating along with Zeke—the thing is—then they won’t—then they can’t—and you’re perfect for this. I know I’m not making any sense. I’m not, am I?” She bent over to come down the few inches to his height. He supposed she was trying to look him in the eyes, although in the dark that wasn’t going to happen. “This is so frustrating.”
Again he felt his throat constrict. “For me too,” he gasped. “Who are you talking about? You said ‘they.’ Who do you mean?”
“You’ll find out,” she said.
“How?”
“Not if you cheat. If you cheat…who knows? They might expel you.”
“I’m not cheating!”
“But it’ll look that way. To them. It’ll be a black mark against you.”
“Who?”
“I want…I like you, you see? The way you think. The way your mind works. You’re perfect for this.”
“For what?”
“I can’t say. It’s not for me to say. It’s up to them. When you’re ready. I imagine that’s sooner than you think. But you must not get yourself in trouble. Not this kind of trouble. It could all be over before it begins, and that’s just not right. You’ve got to forget everything Zeke has told you, although I suppose for you that’s impossible, so maybe you actually have to first remember everything Zeke has helped you with, and then figure out some way to block it, or replace it, or something. I could tutor you, I suppose. That’s it! Ask Mrs. Jian if you can work with a tutor. That would be me. Then I can help you. Please. Okay? Just ask her for help. Why didn’t I think of this before?”
His head swam as his perfect recall allowed him to review everything she’d just said. He couldn’t form the right question.
“You are freaking me out,” he said.
“Steel?” It was a voice beyond Nell Campbell. A girl’s voice. Kaileigh’s voice.
He ducked his head around and past Nell.
Kaileigh looked as if she’d seen a ghost.
Then he understood the paralyzed expression she wore: Nell Campbell was still holding Steel by the arms, and he could only imagine how it must look to Kaileigh—the two of them hiding in the shadows, Nell standing about one inch from him. Leaning over him.
“Kai!” he said, calling out.
But she turned away, her curtain of hair swinging and hiding her face. A face he didn’t have to see to know how to read.
Nell placed her hand over his mouth and shushed him. The contact—her hand on his lips—startled Steel, and yet it wasn’t unpleasant.
“Are you kissing my hand?” she said, pulling it away.
“No! I…ah…”
“Eew,” she said, stepping back. “Who was that?”
“A friend.”
“Augustine. Kaileigh Augustine.”
“Yes.”
“She can’t say anything about this—about our talking. If Mrs. Jian finds out I warned you…if it looks like I was trying to stop you from cheating—”
“But I’m not cheating!”
“It’ll ruin everything. They’ll never ask you.”
“Who? Never ask what?”
“I didn’t say that…didn’t mean to say that. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Go find your friend. Hurry. Tell her—I don’t know what to tell her—but tell her something. Make this right.”
“Who’s going to invite me to what?”
“Are you listening to anything I said?”
“I remember everything you said.” He nearly added: This is me we’re talking about.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, sounding deeply concerned.
“It’s all right. I’ll figure out something. And I’ll ask for help in Mandarin. I’ll do everything you told me to do.”
“You can trust me,” she said.
He hadn’t even considered he might not be able to trust her. The idea threw him. He couldn’t trust DesConte. Or Randolph.
“I want to trust you,” he said, almost begging. “But how am I supposed to? You tell me all this stuff that doesn’t make any sense, and then…I don’t know. What? Just go on faith?”
“Yes, that’s it: faith—and patience,” she said. “You have to have patience, too. But ultimately it’s worth it. I promise you, it’s worth it.”
“By the way…” She stepped forward and hugged him. “Congratulations on making the team.”
“What are you talking about?” Steel croaked out, his voice catching as he felt her press against him.
“The Spartans,” she said. “They posted it after dinner. You’re a reserve!”
He felt a rush of heat, conflicted as to what caused it. He’d made the team! As a reserve, but still! How had he missed that? He had gone through two more tryouts and was waiting to find out if he’d made it. He felt like screaming.
Nell turned and hurried away.
He stood there, his head spinning. Nell Campbell had just hugged him. The Nell Campbell.
Maybe he was dreaming. He hit his fist against the brick. It hurt something fierce. No, not dreaming.
So what was going on?
“Tell her I had a…spiritual moment in the chapel. Please.” Steel faced a Sixth Form girl who served as floor monitor for Kaileigh’s dorm. The girl had a severe face, a long chin, and attitude. She represented the only way for Steel to get a message through to Kaileigh. For this reason, he was determined to win her help.
“You heard me. I spoke to her,” the girl reminded. “She said she didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t want to see you. Remember? That’s pretty clear to me. I’m not a relationship counselor. Better luck next time.”
“Just once more, please? ‘A spiritual moment in the chapel.’ That exact wording.”
“Pass.”
Steel’s memories jumped like photographs at high speed. Visions, his mother called them. But they weren’t visions; they were what had happened. Exactly what had happened. He could no more dismiss them as worthless and random than he could change them. But he was able to ignore those he found unimportant, and to hold on to, or focus and study, those he deemed worthy. He searched for…
“Let me see the back of your head, please,” he said.
She looked at him indignantly. “As if.”
“Just turn around, please. I’m not going to do anything. For one thing, there’s a desk between us.”
Perhaps her curiosity won out, or maybe she just wanted to be rid of him, but she did it.
“Monday’s school assembly,” he said, the memory now locked. “You sat in the…eighth row, four seats into the center section from the right aisle….”
Her brow furrowed. He didn’t know if she doubted him or was simply impressed by his powers of recollection. He didn’t want her thinking he was some kind of stalker. He spoke without a break, to keep her from interrupting.
“There was this guy one row behind you—couldn’t stop looking at you. His friend caught him staring at you and punched him in the arm. You never turned around or anything.”
“Who?” She was blushing. “Who was it?”
“I
’m new here. Brown hair. A jock. Pretty tall.”
“Did he have zits? Zits on his forehead?”
Steel shrugged. “I mostly saw him from the back.”
“You’re making it up.”
“Am not.”
“You saw all that?”
“I see all sorts of things.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“He plays soccer. Varsity soccer. Midfielder.”
“Mike Darling? No way!”
“Number seventeen. His jersey.”
She gasped. “You…are…bizarre.” She looked around haphazardly. “This is some kind of prank, right? Some kind of hazing ritual or something? Who put you up to this? Did Danny Lightyear put you up to this?”
“Please. I’ve got curfew coming up. You’ve got to call her back for me.”
“Mike Darling? Seriously?”
“I don’t know his name. But he couldn’t stop looking at you.”
She picked up the phone. “If this is a prank, if you’re pulling something on me, you’re going to regret it. I’m talking big time!”
“A spiritual—”
“Yeah, yeah! I’ve got it.”
A few minutes later, Kaileigh’s face appeared in the safety glass of the door, the last barrier between her and him.
Steel made no effort to encourage her through to meet him, but every fiber of his body wanted it. Finally she swung open the door and walked out. Her eyes were red—had she been crying? Just the thought of that confused him.
“Will you come outside for a minute?”
Kaileigh pouted and shrugged, made a face like she didn’t care what she did.
He held the door for her. She moved with the speed of a slug.
Alone with her in the chill of the night air, he sensed that the rules between them had changed. He hadn’t known there were any rules to begin with, but that was the way it felt, and his first reaction was to want to figure out what the rules were and where they’d come from. But first they had business to discuss.
He spoke faintly, in a whisper, a voice designed to draw her close to him, and it worked.
The Academy Page 12
