Among the Imposters (14 page)

“The first illegal I have come to arrest goes by the name of—”

“Relax, Stan. I found him,” someone interrupted from behind.

Luke recognized the voice. A second later, Mr. Talbot came into the room.

And behind him, with his wrists in handcuffs and his ankles in leg-irons, was Jason.

Thirty Five

The entire dining hall full of boys gasped. “He was hiding in the nurse’s office,” Mr. Talbot was saying. ‘And the other one’s over at the girls’ school. Come on. I don’t want to miss my golf game this afternoon.

‘No!” Jason roared. Even in chains, he had a commanding presence. The police officer with the chestfiil of medals turned to look at him with something like respect ‘I told you! I’m not an exnay. I can show you the exnays!”

Jason stepped forward, chains rattling. Mr. Talbot reached out to grab his arm, but the officer stopped him.

“Maybe he’s right,” the officer said. “I always love it when they betray each other. And I wouldn’t mind getting a bonus for exceeding my quota this month.”

Mr. Talbot shrugged and looked at his watch, as if all that worried him was showing up late for his tee time.

Jason hobbled slowly across the room, until he reached Luke’s table. Luke felt faint. Everyone around him seemed to be holding his breath, too.

Jason pointed.

“Him. Antonio Blanco is his real name, but he goes by Samuel Irving. Him. Denton Weathers, alias ‘h-avis Spencer. Him. Sherman Kymanski, alias Ryan Mann. Him. Patrick Kerrigan, alias Tyrone Janson.” Now Jason pointed to Luke. “And him. I don’t know his real name, but he’s pretending to be Lee Grant.” He turned back to the Population Police officer, beseechingly ‘And I know there are more. Just give me some time—’

Mr. Talbot started laughing. His guffaws rang out in the silent dining hall like bells after a funeral.

“Lee Grant an imposter? Now, that’s a good one. I’ve known Lee since he was a baby. His whole family used to celebrate Christmas with mine, back when we lived in the city. Come to think of it, I’ve got one or two of those Christmas pictures in my wallet
·
right now. Want to see them?” Mr. Talbot asked the police officer. He was already pulling the wallet out of his back pocket “Hey, Lee, good to see you. Come look Remember the year your parents made you wear the Santa Claus hat?”

Somehow Luke managed to make his legs carry him over to Mr. Talbot. Once before, Mr. Talbot had lied and said that he was a close personal friend of Luke’s father’s cousin. That was dangerous enough. Mr. Talbot could never back up this lie.

But the picture Mr. Talbot thrust at him was crystal clear. There was Mr. Talbot and three other adults, standing by a fireplace. Two boys that Luke recognized as Jen’s brothers—Mr. Talbot’s stepsons—sat on the hearth. And

there, right between them, was Luke, in a flannel shirt and a Santa hat.

Mr. Talbot even flashed the photo in front of Jason’s face.

‘But I know—” Jason fumed. “He—I mean, I’m sure of the others. I’m positive!”

“Um-hmm,” Mr. Talbot said. “I bet you just made up those names, trying to save your own skin.”

Suddenly Patrick/Tyrone spoke up.

“He is, sir. My
·
name is really Robert Jones.”

“I’m Michael Rystert,” Sherman/Ryan added.

The other two gave different names, too—Joel Westing and John Abbott. All four boys spoke in calm, even voices. Luke was stunned. What was going on? How could they possibly pull this off?

“They’re lying! Look at their records!” Jason screamed.

“Good idea,” Mr. Talbot said. “Is there a teacher or administrator who would be so kind—?”

At a far table, Luke’s history teacher, Mr. Dirk, stood up.

“Just give me a minute,” he said. Luke wondered how he could have ever found the man intimidating. He scurried out of the room like a mouse. In no time at all, he returned with four thick files. He handed them to the police officer. “Mind, please don’t let any of the boys see. We like to keep their records private—”

But everyone was craning his neck, straining to see. Luke had the advantage because he was still standing next to Mr. Talbot. The police officer flipped quickly through the top file—Luke could see MICHAEL written again and again on each page. And in the next file, it was ROBERT, over and over and over.

“They’re fake!” Jason howled.

‘Aw, who could have faked these? In the two minutes we were standing here?” the police officer said in disgust. He threw the files down on the table and jerked on Jason’s arm. “Come on. Out of here. Enough of your lies. We’d better go make that other pickup quick, or Mr. Talbot here will make me reimburse him for his lost greens time.”

“But—but—” Jason sputtered, all the way out of the dining room.

And then he, and Mr. Talbot, and the Population Police officer were gone.

Thirty Six

It
was strange, after everything that had happened, that the boys could shuffle off to their classes as usual. The hall monitors watched as usual. Once the bell rang, the teachers cleared their throats as dryly as ever and began lecturing about integral numbers or laws of thermodynamics or long-dead poets.

Luke took his history exam that afternoon, as scheduled. He was surprised that he could pencil in responses about Hercules and Achilles, Hannibal and Arthur, heroes of the distant past, even as his mind raced with questions about the present. He longed to ask Patrick/Tyrone—no, make that Robert now—for an explanation. Or any of the others. How had they known the right names to say? How had their records been changed? How was it that nobody in the entire dining room had stood up to challenge their stories? And—who had betrayed Jason?

But each time he saw the other boys, they only groaned about their exams, complained about the school food, told stupid jokes. They acted like their names had always been Michael, Robert, Joel, and John.

Nobody mentioned Jason.

‘Are we going to the woods tonight?” Luke whispered to Trey as they were leaving dinner. ‘To talk about—you know.”

Trey looked at him as though Luke was speaking a foreign language.

Guess not, huh?” Luke said, unable to just let it go.

Luke felt an arm on his shoulder just then.

“I’d like a word with you, young man,” a voice said.

With all his fears from breakfast-time rushing back, Luke had to force himself to turn around.

Mr. Dirk, his history teacher, stood there, looking stern.

“You are Lee Grant, are you not?” Mr. Dirk asked.

The other boys stepped past him. Luke watched the doors of the lecture hall close before he could bring himself to nod.

‘Then come with me,” Mt Dirk sai4 and turned on his heeL

Luke followed a few paces behind. So Mr. Dirk was going to tell him how badly he’d failed the history exam. So what? Luke remembered that, with Jason gone, there was no one to doctor his grades. But Luke had never cared about the grades.

“I’ll work harder next term,” Luke started to say “1 didn’t even start going to your class until last week—”

“Hush,” Mr. Dirk said.

Luke fought the urge to giggle. It was so ridiculous that, after surviving the Population Police raid, he was getting in trouble because he had forgotten the names of a few dead guys most people had never heard of.

Mr. Dirk walked past his classroom. Luke started to protest, but Mr. Dirk was walking briskly now. Luke had to hurry to keep up. Mr. Dirk walked right up to the front door and turned the knob.

“Isn’t it locked tonight?” Luke wanted to ask. But he was beginning to understand that Mr. Dirk wasn’t going to scold him about ancient history He kept his mouth shut.

The door opened easily Luke and Mr. Dirk stepped outside together.

Tiers of steps lay before them in the twilight. Luke remembered his trepidation climbing these very stairs, his first day at Hendricks. They didn’t seem quite so imposing now, probably because he was at the top looking down, instead of the bottom looking up.

‘Where are we going?” Luke couldn’t resist asking.

For an answer, Mr. Dirk put a finger to his lips.

They climbed down the steps and walked along the expansive driveway June bugs sang, far off in the distance. They made Luke homesick. Back on the farm, his dad and brothers were probably just coming in for supper after a hard day of baling. Mother would just be getting home from the factory.

It didn’t seem right that Luke had just had one of the most terrifying days of his life, and his own family would never know.

“Watch your step,” Mr. Dirk said.

Luke had been so lost in thought, he hadn’t even noticed that they had turned, and were now standing in

front of a small cottage. No—not a cottage—the small scale had fooled him. This building had turrets and arches like a castle, but was nestled so neatly behind lilac bushes and rhododendron and forsythia that Luke could have walked right past without seeing it at all.

“Ring the bell,” Mr. Dirk instructed. He turned to go.

Luke was swept with panic.

“Wait!” he cried. Mr. Dirk was hardly a comforting figure, but at least he was familiar. Luke didn’t like being abandoned in a strange place, without explanation.

“I trust you can find your way back on your own, when you are finished,” Mr. Dirk said, and disappeared into the shadows.

There was nothing for Luke to do but press the doorbell.

“Come in,” a deep voice called from inside.

Luke gave the door a little push. It was made of the same kind of heavy wood as all the doors at Hendricks. It barely moved. Timidly, Luke edged it open and stepped inside.

A dim room lay before him. Prisms hung from old-fashioned lamps. Wood-framed couches curved between oddly shaped tables cluttered with dozens of framed pictures. Luke didn’t even notice the man in the wheelchair until he cleared his throat.

“Welcome, young man,” the man said. He was older than either Luke’s parents or Mr. Talbot. He had thick white hair that swelled above his forehead like a snowbank. He wore crisp khaki pants and a pale blue shirt—the

same kind of Baron clothes Luke had almost become accustomed to wearing himself. “Would you care for a drink? Bottled water, perhaps?”

Luke shook his head, baffled. Questions swarmed in his mind.

“George,” the man called.

Mr. Talbot stepped into the room from the back part of the house.

Luke’s knees went weak with relief. Finally! Someone who could explain.

“Mr.—” Luke began.

But Mr. Talbot shook his head warningly He waved a long bar in front of Luke’s chest and his legs, then behind his back. Finally he leaned back and announced, “He’s clean. No bugs.”

“I hate all this technology, don’t you?” the man in the wheelchair said, leaning back as though Mr. Talbot’s announcement had freed him to relax. He stirred a cup he held in his hand. Luke thought he caught a whiff of something like the chicory coffee his parents had sometimes drunk as a special treat. “But now I can introduce myself. I’m Josiah Hendricks. You know my friend here, I presume.”

Luke could only nod.

“Sit down, sit down,” Mr. Hendricks said. “No need to stand on ceremony

Luke noticed that Mr. Talbot, always so much in charge every other time Luke had seen him, obeyed instantly Luke quickly sank into an armchair as well.

Mr. Hendricks sipped his drink.

“You are an inquisitive young man,” he said to Luke. “You wish some explanations. No?”

“Yes,” Luke said eagerly He looked over at Mr. Talbot, expectantly But Mr. Talbot was staring pointedly at Mr. Hendricks.

“Once I was a very rich man,” Mr. Hendricks said. “I spent my money foolishly—who doesn’t when they have more money than they know what to do with? There is a long and not particularly attractive story about how I spent my younger days. But suffice it to say that I was given reason to develop compassion by the time of the Great Famines.” He looked down quickly. Luke saw for the first time that both of his pants legs hung empty below the knee. “I am not disguising anything for you tonight,” Mr. Hendricks said softly

Luke shifted uncomfortably in his chair. What was he supposed to say? Evidently nothing. Mr. Hendricks went on with his tale.

“You know the Government was considering letting the ‘undesirables’ starve, do you not?” Mr. Hendricks asked. “When there is not enough food, who deserves to eat? The blind girl? The deaf boy? The man missing his legs?”

The anger in his voice was unbearable. Luke stumbled over his own tongue, ready to say anything to move the story along.

“Jason—I mean, the one taken away this morning—he told me about that. At school.”

“Indeed,” Mr. Hendricks said. He seemed lost in thought, then roused himself to continue. “My family— and I—spent millions on bribes, to convince the Government to have a heart They left the disabled alone. And passed the Population Law instead.” He frowned, stirring his coffee. “And how compassionate had I been? I saved my own kind, knowing that others would likely be killed. So I set up the schools. As penance.”

“Mr. Hendricks foresaw what others did not,” Mr. Talbot said. “He understood that hundreds of illegal children would be born, and hidden. And he knew they’d need safe places to go if they were able to come out ofhiding.”

“But I thought your schools were for autistic kids, kids with phobias, the ones who—” Luke stopped. “Oh,” he said.

Mr. Hendricks chuckled.

“So my charade fooled you?” he asked. “Who can tell if a child rocks because he has autism or because he is terrffied out of his wits? Who can tell if agoraphobia is caused by oddities in the mind or lifelong warnings, ‘Going outdoors is suicide’? In the beginning, yes, I accepted children whose problems stemmed from other causes. I nurtured a reputation as a schoolmaster who would take on any troubled child. And when the first illegal children began emerging, they came here, too.”

Luke tried to grasp it all.

“So everyone’s an exnay? And everyone knows?” he asked. “The teachers, Ms. Hawkins in the office, the nurse, all the other boys—”

“Oh, no.” Mr. Hendricks shook his head emphatically “My charade is complete. I don’t even know for sure which boys are which. I don’t want to know. There is the possibility of—”

“Torture,” Mr. Talbot said grimly.

“Those I don’t know, I can’t betray,” Mr. Hendricks said. ‘And I hire only employees who seem uniquely capable of ignorance. Teachers so enamored of their academic disciplines that they can’t even recognize the students who sit before them for an entire year. Administrative staff whose incompetence is of such towering magnitude that they can’t input records into computers, won’t notice when files are faked or replaced.
...
There’s a certain charm to my system, is there not?”

Luke remembered how Jason’s portable phone had disappeared, how the doors had been locked, how the files under his four friends’ new fake names had magically appeared.

“But
someone
knows,” he insisted. “There has to be
someone
who oversees it all.”

Mr. Hendricks shifted in his wheelchair.

“Oh, yes. I have my compatriots. Mr. Dirk, as you probably suspect, has been useful upon occasion, although his knowledge is limited. I will tell you no other names.”

Luke should have felt relieved to finally get an explanation. For that matter, he should have been ecstatic to have an adult at Hendricks acknowledge his existence. But all he could think about, suddenly was how lonely and isolated