Words appeared on the screen: AUTHENTICATE, PLEASE.
A pulsating outline of a left hand appeared on-screen, fingers spread, like the outlines he’d seen on Robbins’s device. Will extended his left hand toward the outline. An inch shy of it he felt a burst of warmth.
As he touched the screen, the outline locked onto his hand. Subtle currents flowed beneath his skin, then with a flash of light the outline faded. A majestic major chord filled the room. The display dissolved to a greeting screen that featured the Center’s crest floating on a shimmering dark blue field. Moments later, a row of conventional interface icons faded in along the bottom of the screen.
Words appeared: WOULD YOU LIKE TO BEGIN THE TUTORIAL NOW? (RECOMMENDED) YES/NO.
Will tapped NO. A mailbox icon appeared. He double-tapped the icon, and the screen opened to a graphically familiar in-box.
There was one message inside: To wwest@thecil.org. From sroarke@thecil.org.
He double-tapped the message. A video file opened of Headmaster Stephen Rourke, at the desk in his office, looking straight into the camera. The image quality was so good he appeared to be on the other side of a window.
“Greetings, Will. I hope you’re bouncing back from that bump on the noggin. Sorry I couldn’t wait around, but the docs assured me you’d be okay. And I apologize for taking you in there in the first place. That one’s on me: headmaster brain-lock. Hope you’re getting settled. Let’s catch up tomorrow. If there’s anything we can do to make your first days here easier, all you have to do is ask. Have a good night now.”
The mailbox came back up. Instead of using his finger as the cursor, Will tried another way to interact with it. “Close mailbox,” he said.
The mailbox collapsed into the icon at the bottom of the screen. Cool.
“Open hard drive,” he said.
A file cabinet icon opened in the screen’s center. A drawer opened into a list of folders and files from the hard drive on Will’s laptop. He verified that the data from his laptop had landed safely.
A muffled buzzing sounded somewhere in the room. He traced it to the bed, under the mattress. Nando’s cell phone.
“Power off,” said Will.
His tablet shut down. Will couldn’t see one, but he worried there might be a video camera built into its frame. There was no way of knowing who might have remote access to its feed—Lyle, for instance. Will dropped his sweatshirt over the screen for good measure.
OceanofPDF.com
#83: JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE PARANOID DOESN’T MEAN THAT SORRY IS BETTER THAN SAFE.
Will pulled out Nando’s phone and took it into the bathroom. He closed and locked the door, then turned on the faucet before he answered.
“Hey, Nando,” Will whispered.
“Yo, Will,” Nando whispered back. “I’m parked outside your house right now.”
“Why are you whispering? Can anybody see you?”
“No, I’m cool, man. I’m down the street. Why are you whispering?”
Will thought a second. “You’re not supposed to use phones in the hospital.”
“So listen up, bro, your old man might be right. What’s going down here’s kinda freaky. Three black cars are parked out front. Identical makes and models, like undercover vehicles. Cops were here earlier, too. Two local cruisers.”
“How long have you been there?”
“About an hour.”
“Shouldn’t you be working?”
“Nah, man, this is way more fun,” said Nando. “Plus I got this little telescope my wife bought me at Brookstone? Puts you right up in somebody’s grill. I’m watching these dudes from the sedans go in and out.”
“Describe them,” said Will.
“Black caps and jackets. Look almost like FBI, ’cept it don’t say ‘FBI’ on the caps or jackets. They’re loading suitcases into the cars. Boxes, too. All taped up, the kind you use for moving.”
“How many Black Caps?”
“Six. Two in each car,” said Nando. “And whoever these cats in the chapeaus are, they’re in charge of whatever’s going down: They were giving orders to the cops.”
“Have you seen anybody else?”
“A lady came out a couple times. Black hair, kinda tall, good-looking. Tell the truth, first time I seen her, I thought she coulda been your mom.”
Will felt bad about lying to Nando but didn’t see an alternative. “Couldn’t be. She’s up here with us. Anybody else?”
“One other dude, not one of the Caps. Long hair and glasses, light brown beard. Only seen him once, through the window inside, talking to the Caps.”
So Dad is still there. But in what condition?
“I took some snaps but didn’t think I should send ’em till we talked.”
“I have an email you can use.” Will gave him the address of his new account.
“Okay, boss. Gonna stay on this. Looks like they’re getting ready to move.”
Nando hung up. Will heard a series of sharp knocks on his bedroom door. He went into the bedroom.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“House security,” said a male voice. “Open the door now.” Not Lyle, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t out there with a whole goon patrol.
“One sec, I was in the bathroom.”
He yanked the phone’s charger from the wall and buried them both under the mattress. His heart thumping, Will walked over and opened the door.
A tough-looking kid with close-cropped blond hair stood outside. He wore a crested blue school blazer identical to the one Lyle had been wearing. A scalloped cowlick rose on the left side of his hairline like a nautilus shell. He stood four inches shorter than Will but occupied more space horizontally and radiated serious athletic vibes. His electric ice-blue eyes drilled straight into Will’s.
The kid held up the rules booklet Lyle had given Will. “Are you familiar with Code of Conduct rule sixteen dash six, paragraph five, subsection nine?”
“No, I—”
“Mr. West, ignorance of the law is no excuse.” Glancing past the guy, Will saw Elise seated on the circular hearth. She’d changed into a short athletic uniform skirt, black cleats, and high blue socks, and she twirled a field hockey stick in her hands. Will thought she looked, oddly, like she was trying not to laugh.
“Since you’ve chosen to ignore the provost marshal’s order to study the Code, let me read the relevant passage for you: ‘New students are not allowed to ask other students about their personal lives for a period of six weeks—’ ”
The young man glanced back at Elise, indicating she had lodged this lame complaint against him. Will stared at them in confusion.
“Like I said, I didn’t know the rules—”
“That is some weak sauce indeed, Mr. West. Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you’re in? Would you like to know what else you don’t know about subsection nine? Please tell me if I’m going too fast.”
“No, go ahead.”
The guy lifted the book and read again: “New arrivals may only ask time of day or directions to classrooms. Random comments about your playlists? Violation. Gushing about your favorite sports team? Violation. Any mention of homesickness for pets named Pinky or Gum Drop? Violation. And you are never, under any circumstances, to ever, in the same sentence, use the words totally, freaking, or awesome. Unless you’re referring to me.”
Elise bent over double, shaking with laughter. The blond kid cracked up and staggered back into a nearby chair. “Oh God, dude, you’re priceless.”
“Punked,” said Will. “Nice.”
“Pinky or Gum Drop,” said Elise, and then shrieked with laughter.
“So you’re Nick,” said Will.
“That was so savage,” said Nick. “I am feeling you right now.” He turned and lifted off the arms of the chair into a perfect handstand: “Nick McLeish. Hope this doesn’t mean we can’t be buds.” He flipped over the back, landed softly, and stepped forward to shake Will’s hand. “Brooke told me you cracked heads with Lyle-Lyle-Crocodile, the Ogre of Greenwood Hall. Couldn’t resist. Elise put me up to it.”