Power Play (11 page)

“But it’s over, right?” Dillard said, bringing Finn back. Dillard sweated as he labored to keep up with the fast-walking Finn. “You guys vanquished them.”

“‘Vanquished?’ That is so Gate Crashers,” Finn said, referring to a popular video game.

“The Disney villains…they took care of the witch and the thing.”

“Villains? Rumors. All rumors.”

“So, you are hurrying because…?”

“I’ve got to catch a city bus. I got a text from Philby,” said Finn.

“Philby.”

“Yeah.”

“You two are tight.”

“I suppose. He’s a good gamer. You’d like Philby.”

“Who’d win, do you think, at Sudden Disaster? Me or Philby?”

“We’d have to find out,” Finn said.

“What kind of dumb answer is that?”

“My kind of dumb answer, I guess.”

“Hey, could we slow down some? I’m soaked,” said Dillard.

“You gotta keep up.”

Dillard stopped short, beads of sweat flying off him and spraying Finn, who also stopped.

“I could keep up if I wanted,” Dillard said.

“I know that. I’m sorry. I can slow down if you want.”

“Why don’t you go do whatever it is you’ve got to do. I’ll catch you later.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, no,” Finn said. “Get down!” He pulled Dillard to a crouch behind a parked car.

“Luowski?” Dillard said, looking that direction. “You and Luowski? I got nothing to do with that.”

Luowski jaywalked, crossing the street to the other side.

Finn couldn’t believe what he saw. Since when did Luowski give him a free pass?

“He’s following me,” Finn said.

“Like, spying?”

“Yeah, like that.”

“Why?”

Finn thought back to the confrontation in the boys’ room before lunch. He thought back to the photograph with the Evil Queen.

“It’s…involved,” he answered. “The question is: Do I dare test it?”

“Test, as in…?”

“I’m going to go over there,” Finn said. “If he beats up on me, I may need you to rescue me.”

“Me? And Greg Luowski? Right.”

Finn handed him his phone. “Threaten to call nine-one-one.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not saying to do it. Just threaten it. Luowski’s stupid, but he’s not dumb. He won’t want to mess with the police.”

“He might want to mess with me,” Dillard said.

“It’s your call,” Finn said.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll do it.”

Finn patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

Finn stood and hurried across the street. “Greg!” he called out.

Luowski appeared to panic. He spun around, then reconsidered and turned back to face Finn. He seemed uncharacteristically perplexed.

“Whitless.” Luowski had been born mean. He was the kind of kid destined to be a serial killer, the kind of kid who burned down garages, who dropped rocks off highway overpasses. The kind of kid who deserved a “Go Directly to Jail” card in Monopoly.

“Are you following me?” Finn said.

“As if.”

He was a bad liar.

Luowski turned his head slightly, and Finn saw the green contact lenses. Instead of looking silly, they gave him a chill. Was it possible Luowski and other students (how many, he had no way of knowing!) had been put under a spell by the Evil Queen? That the green contacts were a way for them to identify each other and to intimidate the Keepers? How many had the Queen recruited? Did the spread of the Overtakers extend beyond their own school? If so, how many did the OTs now control? And why? It was enough to make Finn wonder why he’d so eagerly crossed the street to confront Luowski in the first place.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Luowski asked.

“Apparently not.” But something tells me I’m about to, Finn thought.

“The trouble with you, Whitless, is you think you’re so special. You and your friends.”

There were times that Luowski tried to act tough. Then there were times when he looked like a lightbulb screwed into the socket wrong—a sparking, problem-ridden, butch-cut, ex-Marine in a sixteen-year-old’s body.

Finn warned himself to settle down. If he could manage a few seconds of
all clear
, Luowski wouldn’t be able to hurt him. But at the moment the space between him and
all clear
was about as wide as the Grand Canyon.

Luowski was like a force field, and Finn a metal particle nearby. Worse, Luowski was relaxed. He didn’t have a care in the world.

“Why would you want to follow me? That’s what I’m asking myself,” Finn said.

“You’re confused. You are so naïve.”

Finn studied the green-eyed kid. A word like
naïve
had no place coming out of his mouth.

“You must have had Language Arts today,” Finn said.

“Take off,” Luowski said, “before you fall down and get hurt.”

“What did she promise you?”

“Don’t know who you’re talking about,” Luowski replied.

Finn decided it was worth the risk. He pulled the photo out of his back pocket.

“Her,” he said, showing the picture of Luowski and the Evil Queen.

“You Photoshop that or something? I don’t even know who that is.”

He sounded so convincing that Finn nearly believed him.

“I didn’t Photoshop those contact lenses.”

“The trouble with you, Whitless, is your mouth runs like a faucet.”

“Language Arts must have been a block class today.”

“See what I mean?”

“Don’t believe her. She’ll eat you up and spit you out,” Finn said.

“Is that right?”

“Yes. That’s right.”

Luowski grabbed Finn by the shoulders. His hands felt like metal clamps.

“Listen to me carefully, Whitless.” His breath was sour, his voice dry and raspy. The contact lenses made his eyes look like doll eyes when close up. Like dead eyes. “Some of us don’t believe in magic.”

He pushed Finn back, lifting him off his feet and sending him to the sidewalk. Luowski was strong—maybe the strongest kid in the entire high school, not just ninth grade—but it had been more than strength that had lifted Finn off his feet.

“I’M GOING TO CALL NINE-ONE-ONE!” came a girlish-sounding threat from across the street.

Dillard waved the phone. He shouted the warning again.

Luowski glanced in that direction, unfazed. “You’re pathetic,” he said, turning his back on Finn.

And you’re strong, Finn was thinking. Supernaturally strong.

* * *

Crazy Glaze was a paint-your-own pottery shop owned and operated by Maybeck’s aunt and legal guardian, Bess, or “Jelly,” as everyone called her. They lived in the apartment above the store; he worked afternoons and Saturdays helping out. Sometimes she paid him, sometimes not, depending on how well business was doing.

Finn liked the smell of the glaze and wet clay.

By the time he got there, the other Keepers had already arrived, though not Amanda and Jess. Jelly had given them the back room all to themselves, the door closed to the outside noise and chaos of kids doing after-school art projects.

The collective mood felt highly charged with anticipation.

Finn sat down and caught them up on his encounter with Luowski. Philby related his story about feeling watched. Willa and Maybeck had similar stories to tell, but neither had connected the events at their school with the Overtakers until they heard Finn and Philby voice their suspicions.

“What does it all mean?” Charlene asked.

Philby spoke up. “It means the Evil Queen has found a way to recruit kids in our schools to watch us.”

“It means we’re outnumbered,” Maybeck said, “and outflanked. That we can’t trust anyone.”

“But the contact lenses,” Charlene said. “They give themselves away as OTs in training, or whatever. Right? I mean, why do that?”

“Intimidation,” Maybeck said. “Is there some other explanation?”

“Agreed. It’s the fear factor,” Finn answered. “Maybe they think we can all go
all clear
, and want us nervous and on guard to keep us from doing that.”

“And it makes them feel special,” Willa said. “It makes them important and part of a bigger group.”

“It is unusual to make your spies known to the enemy,” Professor Philby said. “Let’s assume they’re planning some kind of jailbreak. Remember, the OTs are characters. That means they’re confined to the Parks—and it’s entirely possible Maleficent and Chernabog aren’t being kept locked up in any of the Parks. They could be in jail anywhere! That might make it necessary for the OTs to have field agents—people on the ground to do stuff for them. The Queen puts spells on a few kids—that would explain Luowski’s bizarre strength—and tests them out with some assignments, and then moves them like pawns to do her dirty work.”

Finn spoke first. “I hate to say it, but it makes sense. No one is going to stop Luowski with that kind of strength. If there are five or six of them like that, they could easily overpower a bunch of guards.”

“Or us,” Maybeck said, ominously. “Maybe, when the time comes, their job is to keep us from interfering with the Evil Queen’s plans. We’ve messed things up a lot for them in the past.”

“Good point,” Willa said.

“Oh, my gosh!” Charlene said. “I just got it!” She was fixed on Maybeck. “You were trying to kiss me to bring me out of the spell! In Epcot. At ice cream!”

“Can we stay on topic please?” Philby said.

Maybeck said, “You missed your big chance.”

“How long had you guys known? About the spell, I mean?” Charlene said, ignoring Philby’s request.

“We can do this later,” Philby said. “The point is, you’re back.”

“Jess showed me a sketch today,” Willa said, changing subjects, “at school.”

Finn recalled Jess drawing on a napkin at the ice cream parlor.

“And?” he asked.

“She said it had just come to her when we were in the Parks.”

“AND?” Finn repeated anxiously.

“It was this military guy. Like a general. Or maybe a police officer or something.”

“What kind of officer?” Philby asked.

“How would I know? They all look the same to me. Just a guy, a grown-up, in a uniform.”

“I’d like to see it,” Philby said, wondering if it had something to do with Wanda being locked up. According to Finn’s mother, she was supposed to have been released earlier that day.

Finn nodded.

“So, you can ask Jess,” Willa said.

“What are we supposed to do?” Maybeck asked. “Spy on their spies? That could be awkward.”

“So what can we do about it?” the ever-practical Willa asked.

“Can you stop what happened to me from happening again?” Charlene asked.

“It shouldn’t have happened to you in the first place,” Philby said.

“That doesn’t exactly answer my question,” she said.

Philby said, “I can monitor the traffic. Set a data alarm. If there’s another surge of data, high bandwidth usage, I should be able to detect it.”

“That doesn’t exactly sound promising,” Maybeck said.

“I’m open to suggestions,” said Philby, knowing he was the only one who understood any of what he’d just said.

“I’d like to gang up on one of these imitation-flavor Overtakers and have a little talk with them about what they’re up to,” Maybeck said. “I wonder how strong they are when it’s three against one.”

“I hate to say it,” said Willa, “but it might be better—safer—to try a girl first.”

“Sally Ringwald,” Finn said. “She was in the photo with Lady Evil, and Amanda said she’s now wearing green contacts.”

“Can you or Amanda get her alone with us someplace?” Maybeck asked.

“Listen to you!” Charlene said, chastising them. “You’re going to hurt some girl without even being sure she’s part of this?”

“Of course you’d defend her! You were working for the Evil Queen yourself! Besides, who said we’re going to hurt her?” Maybeck said. “Scare her a little, maybe? Sure. It’s not like the OTs don’t scare us. Am I right? You bet I am. It’s time we return the favor, is all. If those guys are spies, we need to know it before it’s too late.”

Heads nodded in agreement.

“I was apparently a spy for them and I didn’t even know it,” Charlene reminded in a somber voice.

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Maybeck said. But it didn’t sound as if he meant a word of it.

P
HILBY’S CAT, ELVIS
, was a plump, lazy cat. The kind of plump that might get him mistaken for a pet raccoon. The kind that scared off small dogs. Elvis, like all cats, enjoyed warm places to sleep. On the couch, nestled between pillows. Curled up in a shirt that had been tossed on the floor.

Philby’s laptop computer ran hot. Its internal fan emitted a pleasant, catlike purr.

Elvis jumped first to the empty office chair, then up to the desk, and lay across the purring keyboard, luxuriating in its warmth.

At desk height he was nearly level with Philby, who slept soundly in his bed across the room. Elvis got up and circled once, unable to find the perfect position. His back paws hit several keys at once. On the screen a window closed. Then another. Elvis took no notice; he’d found the perfect spot to sleep.

He had no idea that he’d just closed the data traffic monitoring program Philby used to police the DHI server. No idea he’d turned off Philby’s data alarm.