by Laura Martin
My thoughts were cut short by the sound of footsteps coming down the path to our left. Both Elliot and I snapped our heads in that direction and froze. Then, as though we’d choreographed it, we both lunged for the letter. Our hands collided, both scrabbling for it in our panic to get it hidden, and it fell into the bubbling water of the fountain and vanished. I blinked at the spot where it had disappeared. What had just happened? I’d never seen paper dissolve like smoke before.
Before I could say anything, Elliot had my arm in a vise grip. I looked up at him, still baffled, and he held a finger to his lips and silently slipped over the edge of the fountain and into the water, dragging me behind him. I let out a low hiss as I descended into the thigh-deep water. The sound of the footsteps got louder and Elliot let go of my arm so he could duck behind one of the large statues in the fountain. His hand snaked out a second later, and he pulled me behind the biggest statue and into a small hidden alcove. A metal electrical plate made it obvious that this was some kind of service area for the fountain, and I crouched down in the icy water next to Elliot, barely feeling the cold as adrenaline shot through my system. From our hiding spot, I could see out through the tangle of statue legs to the spot where we’d just been sitting. A moment later a security officer came around the corner. I’d thought the danger of the Cocoon had been real before, but now that I was on the verge of getting caught, it all seemed to hit home just that much harder. Thankfully the guard appeared to be doing a routine check of the grounds. He scanned the fountain without showing much real interest before strolling around the perimeter. A moment later he headed off down the path that led back toward the Academy dorms.
“That was close,” Elliot whispered. His hot breath tickled my ear uncomfortably, and I hunched my shoulders up and turned to look at him.
“You couldn’t think of a better place to hide than in the fountain?” I asked, a shiver running through me now that the terror of the situation was starting to fade.
“What are you complaining about?” he whispered back. “Your grand plan appeared to be waiting until you got caught with a Cocoon. I’d say my idea was better.”
“Fair point,” I admitted. “I didn’t even know this was back here.”
“Neither did I, until a certain princess gave me a solid shove for no good reason.”
“Don’t call me princess,” I said. “And you’re welcome. If I hadn’t shoved you in, you’d never have found this spot.”
“No,” he contradicted me. “You’re welcome. I just saved your neck.”
I decided to ignore this and held up my empty hands. “But what happened to the letter?” I asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like it dissolved.”
“I noticed,” he said, his wrinkled forehead mirroring my own confusion. Then his face brightened, and he looked at me. “It’s like it never happened.”
“But it did happen,” I said. “You saw it. Now we have to figure out what to do.”
“We do nothing,” Elliot said. “I’m not risking everything I’ve worked for because of a stupid letter I didn’t even write. I’m leveling up tomorrow, so any future Cocoons you get, just keep them to yourself.”
“But the letter said you couldn’t level up tomorrow, that something bad was going to happen if we didn’t start working together,” I said.
“That sounds a lot like a you problem,” Elliot said. With that he stood up and made his way over to the side of the fountain. Putting both hands on the concrete ledge, he levered himself up and out.
“But,” I protested, then stopped myself, because, really, what was I supposed to say? He was right, he had no skin in this game now. I stood in the freezing cold fountain as he stalked off down the dark path, leaving a dripping trail behind himself like the bread crumbs in the story of Hansel and Gretel. A trail I couldn’t follow.
Chapter Seven
Elliot
I couldn’t think about this. Not now. Not with the test tomorrow. The letter was gone. I’d watched it dissolve like sugar in water, no trace. As long as Fitz hadn’t shown anyone, which she claimed she hadn’t, I was in the clear. My name scrubbed off the only incriminating piece of evidence.
I slipped silently into the same window I’d left less than an hour before. Standing in my dark room, I waited to feel the relief I’d felt at the fountain when I’d realized that I was off the hook, but it didn’t come. Instead I felt a gnawing sense of guilt. But for what? For leaving her standing in the fountain? That would be incredibly stupid since she’d done the exact same thing to me once.
My eyelids felt scratchy but my brain was still going about a thousand miles an hour, and I knew that sleeping wasn’t in the cards for the night. I found myself pacing my tiny dorm room. After the cool expanse of the campus at night, the tiny six-by-ten room felt like a cage. I needed something to disengage my brain. Something I could use to forget about the mess of the last few hours.
Like I always did, I turned to books. Opening my backpack, I grabbed the book I’d checked out of the library just that morning. I flipped it open and paged through to the section on the Battle of the Bulge. I’m not sure how long I sat there before my eyes slid shut and I fell asleep.
I woke up still sitting at my desk with my head resting on my book. I sat back, disoriented, and looked around at my sunlight-filled room as I tried to figure out why I was at my desk and not in my bed, and then everything came crashing back to me. I jumped to my feet. It was ten till eight, and my test was supposed to start at eight clear across campus. Dashing to the bathroom, I splashed some cold water on my face before throwing on a fresh uniform and bolting out my door. I practically flew through campus, dodging other students who had the luxury of walking to class instead of sprinting, and the entire time I was seething inside. This was all Fitz’s fault. I slipped through the door of the simulation room with less than ten seconds to spare. I stopped, breathing hard, with my hands on my knees as I fought to collect myself for one of the most important tests of my life.
“Cadet Mason,” said Professor Brown, “good of you to make it. Cutting it a little close today, aren’t you?”
I stood up straight and forced a smile onto my face. “Sorry, ma’am. I just got distracted with some last-minute studying.”
Professor Brown nodded and stepped aside, revealing the cadet I’d be competing against today for my advancement. The cold blue eyes of Regan Fitz met mine, and I froze.
“Are you ready to lose, Mason?” she asked. Her voice sounded different, harder somehow.
I whirled as Commander Fitz walked into the room. The sight of her made my already jumpy nerves practically sizzle, and I barely remembered to get my hand up in a formal salute. As soon as the commander had taken her seat with the panel of professors who would decide my fate, I turned and glared at Regan.
“This isn’t fair,” I said.
Regan looked at me, her blue eyes snapping. “Gosh, Mason. This sounds a lot like a you problem.”
Chapter Eight
Regan
Sometimes it was good to be the commander’s daughter. Today was one of those days. I’d run home in the dark, dripping wet and freezing. I’d never felt more alone in my entire life. I don’t know why I’d been surprised by Elliot’s flat-out refusal to help, but somehow his words had still cut. Slipping back into my dark house, I’d found myself wandering into my mom’s office. I probably should have changed first; it would be hard explaining to anyone who found me there why I was soaked. But after seeing that Cocoon, the risk felt far away and unreal, like it belonged to someone else’s life and not my own. Everything about the last few hours felt unreal, and instead of blinding panic, I felt oddly numb and detached. Hopeless, I realized. I felt hopeless, and it was a sensation I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before. At least, not at this gut-deep level.
My wet clothes clung to my goose-bumped skin, and I leaned over and flipped the switch to light the gas fireplace. It gave a low grumble and click and then lit, the flames instantly warming my skin
a few degrees. Sitting down at my mom’s desk, I stared at the flickering flames and let my brain churn over everything that had happened. Now what? Elliot had his final test tomorrow, and then he’d move up and be gone.
More for something to do with my hands than because I was really interested, I started organizing the papers on Mom’s desk. Most of the nitty-gritty details that went into running the Academy were just plain boring, payroll and bills, the new outline for the Butterfly detection prototypes, but every now and then there was something interesting, a simulation Recap transcript or a discipline form. My brain was still chewing over Elliot’s “sounds like a you problem” comment when I realized that his name wasn’t just in my head, it was on the memo in my hand. Jackpot.
The memo showed the list of students who were participating in the sim test tomorrow morning at eight. The only kid with enough points for advancement was Elliot, but I was surprised to see how many points my fellow classmates had managed to accumulate while I avoided the tests like the plague. It looked like there were only five cadets signed up for tomorrow, which meant there was an odd man out. In this case, Elliot. My mom had made a note about asking a fourth-year cadet to participate for extra credit, and I wondered if that was why she’d bugged me about it. All I knew was that whoever she found to compete against him had better be good, because while that Cocoon had been vague about almost everything else, it had been crystal clear about the fact that Elliot Mason couldn’t win tomorrow. And then it clicked. There was one way I could guarantee he’d lose.
Suddenly, despite my flat-out refusal to my mom earlier that night, I was all in. The stakes had changed, and feeling dumb in front of my peers was a price I was willing to pay. I bounded out of the chair and headed for the door, a plan already forming in my head. I needed to change and wake up Mom. It was time I started living up to all that potential she was always talking about.
Hours later, I stood in the freezing cold simulation room, waiting as my mom prepped the Lincoln assassination simulation, again. If I passed this, she’d let me take the test at eight. If I didn’t, then I could watch from the audience as Elliot leveled up. I hadn’t played my cards right when I’d busted into her room to tell her that I’d do the simulation test. I’d been too eager, and she’d eyed me suspiciously as I rambled on about deciding to live to my full potential. I honestly had thought she’d be so excited that I actually wanted to do a sim test that she’d jump on board immediately. Instead she’d decided to take my change of heart as an opportunity to get me past what she called my “Lincoln Block.” If I wanted this, I was going to have to prove it and beat the Lincoln assassination once and for all.
I didn’t have much time to dwell on my mistake, though, not if I wanted to compete. The first simulation slot opened at seven, and my mom had pulled strings to get me in at the last minute. Professor Treebaun walked in a moment later, looking decidedly grumpier than usual at being called in so early to monitor a test he’d watched me fail less than twenty-four hours ago. But he just nodded to Mom and took another sip of coffee as he sat down behind the monitor.
“Simulation starts in five,” Mom told me, moving to sit beside Treebaun. “Good luck.” I nodded as everything went black, and I opened my eyes in seat 10B for the sixth time.
Five minutes later I opened my eyes in the icy simulation room again, a wide grin spread across my face as I looked at my mom for confirmation of what I already knew. I’d nailed it. She grinned back, but only for a second as Treebaun cleared his throat and stood up without even glancing at the screen over his head that showed me successfully cuffing the Butterfly I’d discovered hiding behind the curtains of the Lincolns’ theater box.
“Nicely done, cadet,” he said, tapping the screen on his tablet. “Now if you’ll excuse me, this morning is going to require more than one cup of coffee.” When the door slid shut behind him, my mom wasted no time in unhooking my simulation probes so she could give me a tight hug.
“I’m not sure what put a fire under you, but I’m proud of you,” she said in my ear before releasing me.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, feeling a tug of guilt because I knew exactly what had put that fire under me. I craned my head to get a look at her watch, and she followed my gaze.
“You have ten minutes,” she said. “Head over there now. I need to stop by my office to meet with a professor before I go. Besides, it’s probably best we arrive separately.”
I nodded and hurried out of the room. Mom wouldn’t be personally evaluating my test, but I knew she wouldn’t miss the opportunity to watch me compete in my first one. I couldn’t stop the wide smile from spreading across my face as I hurried down the hall toward the testing room. I’d finally done it. Finally beaten the Lincoln simulation, and I didn’t even care that it had been about 90 percent dumb luck that I’d looked up at the Lincoln booth just as the Butterfly peeped their head out from behind the curtain to look at the stage. I stopped cold in the middle of the hall as goose bumps ran up my arms, prickling like needles along my neck, because it hadn’t been dumb luck. The letter had practically told me where I was supposed to look for the Butterfly. That first bullet point had said behind the curtain.
I stood there in the hallway feeling like a puppet who had performed exactly as the puppeteer wanted, and if the puppeteer had been anyone but my future self, I’d have run screaming in the opposite direction. But I couldn’t. Not now. I was too far in. I probably would have stood there forever, trying to wrap my mind around it all, if a very nervous-looking Calvin and Ella, two cadets in my year, hadn’t bumped into me in their hurry to get to the simulation test.
“Hey,” I called, and they stopped and looked back at me. “Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?” Calvin looked annoyed at the request, but Ella dug around in her bag and thrust a crumpled scrap of paper and the nub of a pencil into my hand. I mumbled a thank-you and quickly sat down against the wall, propping the paper against my knee as I scribbled down the bullet points from the letter as best I could from memory.
Behind the curtain.
Something about under a deck?
Break a window?
Grab a key card. (What am I supposed to grab it off of?)
Don’t forget about a pocket.
I stared down at that list, racking my brain. I was forgetting something. I’d been almost positive that there were more than five. Two more cadets rushed by me on their way to the simulation test, and I hurried after them and into the testing room, my eyes immediately combing the room for Elliot. To my surprise, he wasn’t there yet. The other cadets stood by their respective simulation tables, pale and nervous, and I realized that, for the first time, I wasn’t nervous for this simulation at all. I wasn’t competing for an advancement point; I was here to hijack Elliot’s test. I glanced up at the clock. Elliot was always obnoxiously early to everything, so where was he?
When he finally rushed in with mere seconds to spare, I enjoyed every moment of his eye-popping surprise as he caught sight of me. He looked rough, like he’d slept even less than I had, which would be a real trick since I’d been so hyped up about my new plan that I’d only managed to grab a few hours. Maybe it was the way he stared at me, like I had no business being there, or maybe it was the memory of him walking away last night, but everything inside me solidified in cold determination. I was going to kick his arrogant butt, and not because that letter told me to either. Because I wanted to with every fiber of my being.
“Attention!” said a firm voice behind me, and I turned and saluted with everyone else as my mom entered the room. She’d changed since my Lincoln simulation and looked every inch the commander in chief in her fitted black uniform. The Glitching medals across her left shoulder and chest flashed impressively in the fluorescent lights, and every eye followed her as she walked across the room to take her seat. She didn’t even glance in my direction, which didn’t surprise me. In here I was just another cadet. Elliot took a half second longer than everyone else to salute, since he was still starin
g at me like I had four heads.
“Better get it together, Cadet Mason,” I said under my breath as Mom took a seat behind the control panel. He scowled at me, and I smiled back my most winning watch me screw this up for you smile. Professor Brown began explaining the logistics of the test, and we turned our attention back to her. We would be entering the same simulation, but there would be only one Butterfly. The first cadet to find and remove them would be the winner and receive the advancement point.
Elliot moved to stand next to me, his arms crossed over his chest. “What are you doing here?” he whispered.
“I thought that was obvious,” I breathed.
“But why?” he asked.
“You know why,” I said, and I saw him stiffen.
“You don’t stand a chance,” he hissed, and I rolled my eyes.
“Then why do you look like you just swallowed a goldfish?” I asked, fighting the urge to laugh at the sour, pinched look on his face. Even if I did lose, irritating Elliot to this degree would almost make it all worth it. But while I smirked back at Elliot, a small part of me, the part that always shriveled when a teacher realized that the mediocre student sitting in front of them was the commander’s daughter, felt a pang of doubt. Why in the world did I think I could beat Elliot?
I squared my shoulders and pushed those thoughts away. Even a blind squirrel finds a nut sometimes, I reminded myself. Especially, I remembered as my insides squirmed uncomfortably, when that squirrel has some help from the future. Future me had ensured that I’d made it this far with the curtain tip, and I could only hope that meant that today was my day to find the nut. I mentally ran through the bullet points that I could remember. If they were in order, then I needed to keep an eye out for something under a deck. Whatever that meant.
