“That’s a complete and total lie,” said Elise, suddenly not laughing.
“I’m okay,” said Will. “No harm, no foul.”
“Wow, you are being such a champ about this. Props, man, I’m majorly impressed. Aren’t you, Leesy?”
“Don’t let Nick’s charm mess with your savoir faire,” said Elise.
“She thinks I’m charming,” said Nick, offering a wide and—Will had to admit—exceptionally charming grin.
“They used to burn witches at the stake for less,” said Elise.
“Yo, we all know who the witch is, ’kay? And seriously, dude, I wouldn’t be anywhere close to this nice about it if you’d pulled the same gag on me.”
“I wouldn’t pull the same gag on you,” said Will.
“Right. I don’t think you would,” said Nick, looking at him searchingly. “You’re a dude of honor and character. Not sure you’ll fit in with us, but we’re open-minded. Where you from?”
“Southern California.”
“Shut up! So Cal, for real? You hear that, Elise? 90210. Hollywood. Surf City, USA, Lakers and Fakers—”
“Keep going,” said Elise. “You missed a few clichés.”
“You’re from Boston?” asked Will.
“Close enough: New Hampshire.”
“Celtics fan,” said Will. “I knew it. I’m sorry, Nick. We can’t be friends.”
“Come correct now. You know the kelly green of our championship banners is like Kryptonite to your shallow left-coast powers—”
Will turned to Elise. “You a Celtics fan, too?”
“Hell, no, bro,” said Nick. “She’s from Seattle. Like they’ve ever sniffed a championship in anything ’cept chronic depression.”
“The correct term is seasonal affective disorder,” Elise said.
“SAD,” said Will.
“Yes, it is,” said Nick. “Dude, let me tell you how life works in the pod. Our vixen-in-residence here, Miss Elise Moreau, is in charge of everything.” He walked to Elise—shaking her head while she tied her cleats—and massaged her shoulders.
“Every five minutes you listen to him,” said Elise, sighing, “you lose a point off your IQ.”
“Elise, esplain to Will what you’re like, girl,” said Nick.
“No.”
“Come on, you know I’ll only mess it up—”
“Nick? No is a complete sentence,” said Elise.
“Truth,” said Nick. “Elise is a mad gypsy fortune-teller. She’s got this spooked-out mind-ninja power. Once she locks on and gazes into your soul, you can’t run, you can’t hide, and you can’t resist.”
Will couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to resist. Elise looked at him alertly, as if she’d heard him think it. He shivered and looked away.
“And, dude, imagine what it must be like for her? Knowing she has the power to see into the deep, dark places peeps won’t even admit to themselves?”
Is that why Brooke thinks Elise and I have something in common?
With a crisp swing, Elise cracked Nick on the shin with her hockey stick.
“Ow! Did I say that? No, what I meant to say is she’s as harmless as a cheerleader with a Hello Kitty screen saver—”
“Please, ma’am, may I have another,” she said, swinging her stick again.
Nick hopped out of range. Elise turned to Will. He avoided her big green eyes; right now, no one’s soul held more secrets than his did. He also realized that if he was looking for practical answers, he’d been talking to the wrong person. “So should I really read Lyle’s Code of Conduct?” he asked Elise.
“Yes,” said Elise.
“Oh, no, really?” asked Nick.
“Don’t be thick, Nick. Just because you never did. Forewarned is forearmed.”
Nick sank back onto the sofa, rubbed his shin, and flipped through the booklet. “She’s prolly right, dude.” Heavy sigh. “It’s just every time I try to slug my way through it, I …” Nick closed his eyes, fell back, and snored theatrically.
Elise shook her head again and started for the door, twirling her stick. She turned back to Will to say emphatically, “Read it. Did you get your tablet?”
God, her eyes were unnerving. “I just found it on my desk.”
“Have you taken the tutorial yet?”
“No, not yet—”
“Take it.”
“O-kay,” said Will.
Elise left the pod. Nick stayed prone on the sofa, pretending to be asleep.
“I’m going to finish … unpacking,” said Will.
Without opening his eyes, Nick flung his copy of the Code across the room like a Frisbee. It flew through the screen and right into the fireplace, where it began to smolder and burn. Nick waved at Will, eyes still closed, crossed his arms, and settled into a serious nap.
Will locked his bedroom door and lifted the sweatshirt off his tablet. The mailbox icon was blinking and had a question below it: WOULD YOU LIKE TO ADD “NANDO” TO YOUR OUTSIDE MAILING LIST?
“Yes. Open email.”
YOU MAY NOW SEND AND RECEIVE MAIL FROM THIS ADDRESS.
The email from Nando opened. “FYI. AS PROMISED.” Three photographs downloaded on-screen, one after the other. Will studied each as they came up. The first was taken from Nando’s car as he drove past: three black cars parked in front of the house. The second showed three men in black caps loading boxes into the trunk of the first car. The third showed Belinda talking to one of them in front of the house. The man had taken his hat off. He was bald.
On instinct, Will tried something else. “Zoom in,” he said.
His computer zoomed in on the photo until he could see Belinda more clearly. She hadn’t changed physically, but she looked less like his mom in this shot. Like an actor in costume and makeup seen off camera; she wasn’t playing Mom.
A tone sounded from the computer. On-screen, a new message from Nando opened. It was a text, sent from his phone: caps on the move … I’m all over it …
There was another knock at his door. “Close all files,” said Will.
The tablet instantly returned to its greeting screen, the animated school crest—angel, horse, knight—floating over shimmering black. The same message he’d seen earlier appeared: WOULD YOU LIKE TO BEGIN THE TUTORIAL NOW?
“Not right now,” said Will.
AS YOU WISH, WILL. The screen went blank again.
Will had never owned a pet, but he had the oddest feeling about this new computer. It seemed—he didn’t know how else to express this—happy to follow his commands. Like it was a dog.
Will moved to the door. Little Ajay stood outside wearing his school blazer, poised and formal.
“Will, we’ve decided you’re joining us for dinner,” he said in his deep voice. “And I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter.”
OceanofPDF.com
THE DEAD KID
In addition to the soda fountain and the student union food court, there were four other restaurants on campus, including a formal dining room that required reservations and a coat and tie, for parental visits or faculty consultations, and a grillroom in the field house for team meals before or after games and practices. The cafeteria, by far the largest eatery, occupied most of the ground floor of a building near the student union and offered a perpetual buffet from 6:00 a.m. to midnight every day of the week. The fourth restaurant, where his roommates took Will for his first dinner, was the Rathskeller.
Down a flight of weather-beaten stone stairs, the restaurant was situated in the basement of Royster Hall, the oldest building on campus. A wooden sign, carved in a Gothic font from the Pinocchio era, swung above the door: THE RATHSKELLER ESTABLISHED 1915.