Reformed

by Justin Weinberger

  “Go back to being what?” I ask.

  “Are you coming in or not?”

  My legs respond without even checking with me—and there I am, inside the girls’ dorm.

  “Speak. Let’s get this over with.”

  “I just wanted to tell you that … that Ash didn’t really mean to get you in trouble. He was trying to help.”

  She gives a mean little laugh. “You spend an awful lot of time telling people what your friends really mean, you know that?”

  “I’m saying that you don’t know the whole story.”

  “Ah, so I have no clue what I’m talking about?”

  I try to answer, but my mind has gone blank again and she keeps going. Seriously, how do other people always know what to say faster than I do?

  “Here’s the truth,” she says. “Your friends are jerks. And they’re making friends with even worse jerks—which makes it seem pretty likely to me that you’re deep down a jerk too.”

  I stand there awkwardly. “I really like hanging out with you, you know.”

  She doesn’t budge.

  “So does Ash,” I add. “Even though everything that’s going on has been a little confusing.”

  “Yeah, it is confusing,” she says. “The way you say ‘we’ and ‘us’ all the time. You and Ash lump yourselves together with Devon and Mark—and now Miranda—and so after a while it just … Who are you, Ian?”

  “I just wanna make things right,” I tell her.

  “I believe you. And I know you’re trying your best. The problem is—I just don’t care that much anymore.”

  It feels terrible, hearing her say she doesn’t care. And in that moment, I realize how much I do care. And I open my mouth to tell her that, but what comes out is: “He always protects us, Alva.”

  “What?”

  “Devon,” I say. “He always—he’s just always looking out for me. He’s always on my side, no matter what. You know?”

  “Does he ever listen to you?”

  “He doesn’t listen to anybody,” I complain. “That’s not—look, here’s the thing. After I met him, I was never worried about … being the one who got left out. Who ended up alone.”

  “Here’s a secret, Ian,” she says. “There are worse things than being alone.”

  And without giving me the chance to say anything back, she walks out, leaving me standing in the under-fourteen girls’ dorm.

  I rub the heel of my hand into my eye until it’s painful and the pain keeps me from floating away.

  And when I get back to my bunk, I know I’m not the only one in this personal prison.

  “Ash?” I whisper.

  Ash is in his bed, sobbing.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  He looks up and I can see him holding something against his stomach. It’s his dad’s book—The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy—and I can tell something’s wrong with it even before he gives it to me.

  Ash’s face crumples and his eyes start getting all glassy again. He crawls farther into his bunk and faces the wall.

  I open the book with horror … and then fury.

  It’s sixty-four slices of American cheese, squashed between every page.

  Ash’s dad’s book had been in the family since he was our age, Tom.

  His fingers turned the pages a thousand times, you could tell from reading it. And he had drawn all these cartoons in the margins that made his favorite scenes even better. He trusted Ash with that book.

  “I’ll find whoever is responsible,” says Devon as we’re on the way to dance class the next morning, muddy from digging a woodland grave for The Hitchhiker’s Guide.

  “Like we don’t know who it was,” Ash says.

  “You think you know who did the Cheesening?” I ask.

  “Come on, it has to be Alva,” he says with a gesture to where she stands making jokes with Cole.

  “What about Remy and Razan?” I ask. “They were mad—”

  Ahead of us the Rs are dancing together like the champions they once were. I’ve never seen them so on their game.

  “I guess bully school is really working out for some people, huh?” Ash spits out.

  “Ash—”

  “You think they’re happy ’cause they’re the ones who just got away with something?” he asks.

  “I think they’re happy because they’re friends again,” I respond.

  “Yeah, me too,” says Ash, like he was hoping for another answer.

  “Good for them,” says Miranda, with grudging respect.

  Devon looks at her in shock, but Miranda keeps her eyes on the Rs. “Man, I wish I could dance like that,” she adds with a hint of jealousy.

  “Do you dance and stuff?” Devon asks.

  “I’m the biggest klutz ever. But gimme an instrument if you want to see what I can do.”

  Well now I’m curious. “Which instrument do you play?” I ask.

  “Whichever,” says Miranda.

  “Just … whatever’s lying around?”

  As she’s talking, Ash pulls Mark to the side. “If it wasn’t the Rs, guess that leaves our one main suspect, huh?”

  Mark shakes his head. “Don’t jump to any conclusions. We don’t know anything for sure.”

  “But you’re checking it out, aren’t you?” says Ash.

  “Cole thinks he might’ve seen Alva sneaking into the kitchen.”

  “Right,” says Ash. He doesn’t need any more proof than that.

  Remy and Razan finish their dance with a swoopy-thingy, I think is the technical term, and as Razan lands on her feet, Ms. Fitz claps fiercely.

  “Brilliant!” she tells them. “You two are an amazing team. Reminds me of the old days, watching you. And as a reward for all your hard work, I want to do something special. Class, meet our new co-choreographers for the Parents’ Weekend Showcase!”

  “Really?” says Razan.

  “Let’s give our stars a round of applause!”

  Above the sound of the four people who decided to clap, Ms. Fitz goes on, “Now, the showcase is this weekend—it’s time to get serious.”

  Jeremy leans close to me. “This means you, Ian. You’re not gonna embarrass me out there, are you?”

  “I make no promises.”

  “Ian,” says Jeremy. “You may not have realized this yet … but this showcase is a real thing that is really happening. And there will be an audience. And there will be people in the audience—terrible, terrible people who are going to record it.”

  “You mean … video?” asks Ash.

  “This is a dance recital, dudes,” Jeremy says. “Someone’s definitely gonna record it.”

  I realize he’s right.

  “High-definition, slow motion, possibly a virtual reality simulation—embarrass yourself and it’s gonna be your number one Google result forever.”

  I moan. “Jeremy … I’m hopeless.”

  “I know. That’s why I got you some help, partner.”

  He beckons across the class, and Remy and Razan come over. Our new co-choreographers.

  “Why don’t you show us what we’re working with here?” says Razan.

  I smile thinly at them and pull Jeremy away. “Look,” I say. “It’s really nice of you, but—”

  “I don’t think you understand,” Jeremy interrupts. “My hacker enemies will turn this into a meme. No! My hacker friends will turn it into a meme. My enemies will never be able to take me seriously again. I had to beg the Rs to work with us.”

  I bury my head in my hands. “Jeremy, between this and Devon and Ash’s book and—”

  Jeremy cuts me off. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  “What sort of deal?”

  “Listen to the Rs, learn the dance—and I’ll use my unique skills to investigate your cheese treason. See if Alva’s really to blame.”

  I sigh, and resentfully pull Jeremy into our little dance routine. But halfway through, Razan has her head in her hands.

  “You’re not even watching, Razan!�
� I complain.

  “She’s always been the smart one,” says Remy. His eyes are wide like he’s just seen a snake swallowing its dinner.

  “So,” says Jeremy. “Do you think you can fix him?”

  “It would be our greatest challenge.”

  “Or our finest achievement.”

  “You guys,” I say. “I’m standing right here.”

  “Good,” says Remy. “Stand as still as you can. Moving, for you, is a very dangerous business. I’m amazed you’ve survived this long outside of full-body bubble wrap.”

  “So tomorrow?” says Jeremy.

  “Dawn,” says Razan.

  “Come hungry.”

  “But eat a good breakfast first.”

  We practice hard all morning, Jeremy and me and the Rs. It doesn’t seem to be doing any good, but during one of our breaks I catch Alva watching us from across the class. Her eyes dart away from mine and that’s when I notice Ash is standing beside her, yelling.

  “Look, if you didn’t do it, then just say it wasn’t you,” he demands.

  “I can’t believe you’re even asking me about this,” Alva says.

  Ash snorts. “You sound so guilty right now.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  “You won’t even deny it.”

  “And I won’t even dignify that with a response,” says Alva.

  “Saying you won’t respond is totally a response!” says Ash. “Dignity acquired against your will!”

  She looks at him, somewhere between offended and disappointed, and slumps away in her twice-too-big uniform.

  What if she wasn’t the person who ruined Ash’s book, Tom?

  I turn toward Mark, who’s looking uncharacteristically stunned. “What if we’ve got it all wrong?” I ask him.

  He crumbles a little. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

  The night before parents’ weekend, Jeremy pulls me aside. “I have an answer for you about your little book situation, Ian.”

  “And?” I ask.

  His expression darkens. “I’m just gonna show you.”

  “You’re gonna show me what?”

  He weighs his phone on his palm. “Video from the security system in the dorm room.”

  “There’s a camera watching us sleep? Gross.”

  “Yes. And yes.”

  Jeremy’s jabbing and swiping and speeding through the video of an empty dorm room, looking for the right spot.

  “So—did you hack into the mainframe or something?”

  “No.”

  “You installed a worm in the cloud?”

  He looks up and studies me. “Ian—focus, okay?”

  “I’m just interested.”

  “It was a spoofed KinderCorp e-mail account and a little bit of social engineering. Feel better now?”

  “I’m even more confused, actually.”

  “Imagine my surprise.”

  Jeremy hands me his headphones and presses Play. It’s our bunks, as seen from the upper corner of the room. And there are two people in the room. One at Ash’s bunk, and the other one watching the door. I squint, but I can’t make them out.

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  “Wait for it.”

  I keep watching. I watch the Cheesening happen in real time. It’s like the time machine: I can see it happen, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Then I hear a voice:

  “Hurry up. Someone’s coming!”

  That’s when I recognize who’s on guard at the door. It’s Mark.

  I go rigid and look up at Jeremy—

  “Keep watching,” he says.

  I look back down as the other guy is talking: “Not yet, not yet! I’ve got like half a pack of this left still.”

  Jeremy’s gaze flits up at me, waiting for my reaction. The other guy is Devon, of course. And I feel a buzzing in my ears as he lets out this excited giggle that makes me want to spew.

  “Turn it off, please.”

  Jeremy pulls the phone away. “I’m sorry, Ian.”

  I manage a nod.

  “What’re you gonna do?”

  “Does Ash know?”

  “No, I just got hold of this. And you are the only one I’m gonna tell—but this knowledge comes with one condition.”

  “A condition?” I say.

  “You can’t tell anyone what I showed you until tomorrow, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to be far, far away when word gets around to your friend Devon that I gave you that video.”

  “They’re letting you go?”

  He shakes his head and grins. “I’m busting out, actually.”

  “Seriously? What’m I going to do without a partner for the showcase tomorrow?”

  “Ian, come on. You physically cannot do any worse than you already are. You’re the main reason I have to get out tonight.”

  Can’t argue with his point. “So where are you going?”

  “Canada. The Collective has a plan to bust me out.”

  “The Collective?” I ask.

  “You don’t want to know about the Collective, Ian. It’s not safe for you to know about them.”

  “But—”

  “Aren’t you in enough trouble?”

  I frown.

  “No, you definitely don’t want to know about the existence of a group of brilliant, ruthless hackers that secretly controls two continents … because if you did know about them, you’d never be safe again.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. But he doesn’t seem to be paying attention.

  “So anyway,” he goes on, “I’m putting this video on a website I set up for you, and I’m making the password Ontario, and I’m walking away. It’s up to you to do whatever you want to do with this information.”

  On his phone, a little spinning icon pops up with a cheery little I did it! sort of sound.

  “Good luck, Ian.”

  And that’s the last I’ll see of old Deadeyes, I know. For better or worse, he’s done with JANUS. But he’s still out there. Beyond my knowledge. Beyond his teachers’ control.

  If anybody in this story takes after you, Edison, it’s surely that guy.

  There is a message scratched into the wall of the time machine at JANUS. Five words carved with loving violence:

  We are the real monsters.

  It always made me shiver a little, seeing it there—and now, when I see it tonight, I get this weird idea that it’s a message that I went back in time to tell myself in the only way that I knew how: by scratching it into the wall of a place I knew I’d find.

  In the end, we’re all just guppies. Cannibal fish. Mark and Devon aren’t really on our side, and we betrayed Alva when she needed us too.

  And what will happen when I tell Ash about Mark and Devon’s sixty-four slices of betrayal? Is he going to be even more broken up? What if I just go on letting him think it was Alva who committed cheese treason? Didn’t he protect me from having to deal with the truth about what happened to Max?

  But … it would have been better if he’d told me about Devon at the beginning, wouldn’t it? I’m not going to hide the truth from him now. I’m sick and tired of feeling helpless.

  And I’m not even sure if it’s me or the Freak that’s spoiling for a fight—but right now I feel like maybe the Freak isn’t my enemy. Maybe it’s just been trying to steer me right all along, show me a side of myself I couldn’t see in front of Devon or Mark or maybe even Max.

  I come out of the bathroom to look for Ash, and almost don’t care who I stumble on—

  But the first person I run into is totally unexpected, and when I hear that voice from behind me calling my name, it stops me in my tracks.

  “Dad?” I say.

  “There you are!” says Dad. “Hey, Kim, I found him.”

  But Mom already sees me, I know—mostly because Mom is already running up with her arms out wide.

  “We missed you, buddy!” she says. “We really missed you.”

  And all the ang
er goes out of me. I turn away for a second so they don’t see the embarrassing sob I’m holding back. “Why are you here early? The showcase isn’t til tomorrow.” I don’t give them a chance to answer before I go on: “Is something wrong? Do I have to go home immediately due to a family emergency?”

  “Nice try, pal,” says Mom.

  “Didn’t they tell you?” says Dad. “Tonight’s the night we get to take you for dinner and hang out with you.”

  “They probably put it in a really long letter I didn’t read,” I mumble.

  “Well, in any case, it appears you’ve been released on good behavior,” says Mom.

  “Oh, yeah?” I say.

  “You sound surprised,” Dad remarks with a glance. “Is there something we should know?”

  “I’ll tell you everything, but not until we’re far, far away from here. Where are we going?”

  “Okay, okay … we were thinking we might have seen an Indian place on the drive over,” says Dad.

  The Freak erupts with excitement. “Indian?”

  “Oh, do you like Indian food?” says Mom.

  “I love Indian food,” the Freak tells them, like it is the very first time they have learned this fact.

  But before we can get anywhere, I feel a hand on me and spin around out of nervous habit.

  “It’s the Harts!” Devon cheers, standing next to me with a toothy smile. He leaps into the middle of everything, just like always. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Hart”—he grabs me around the shoulder and aims his smile at my mom—“I’ve been looking after this guy. We’ll get him back home safe.”

  I feel a sudden heat burning down my back as I think about that confident arm around my shoulder. He keeps it there as Mom asks if he wants to join us for Indian food. I know it’s Mom’s way of saying sorry to me for being so suspicious of Devon when she dropped me off, but I can’t possibly sit down and eat with him right now. All I can think about is watching him on the security camera video—his gleeful Cheesening.

  “Mom, come on. Devon’s going out with his parents tonight. Right, Devon?”

  Devon doesn’t really have time to react before I start pushing Mom and Dad toward the door. But Mom shoots me a stern look. She’s not giving up that easy.