“We’re really screwed, aren’t we?” Troy said in a soft voice.
At some point, Troy’s father, a senior-level investment banker with JPMorgan Chase and a former All-American quarterback for Notre Dame, had to face the fact that the jock name he’d bestowed upon his only son did not match the boy’s physique or mental makeup in any way. The other Troys at Pepperell Academy were cool kids, muscular and athletic, probably closer to what Troy’s dad had envisioned his son would be. This Troy, however, was a pixie-sized kid with a broad, flat nose, thin lips, and an oval face without much of a chin. His dark hair was cut close to his head, and always looked in need of a good washing. Troy would say he just had naturally oily hair.
He might not have been able to dribble a basketball with any dexterity, or catch a baseball, or master any of the skills his überath-letic father dreamed about, but what he could do-and do better than anybody else at The Pep, including the professors in the computer science department-was hack. Troy, who went by his hacker handle, “Pixie,” cracked codes as other people cracked eggs. As a requirement for acceptance into The Shire, all members had to demonstrate decent hacking prowess, but Pixie’s gifts were something special. He was a digital Mozart, and probably the one most responsible for The Shire’s dire situation.
It was the conspicuous consumption and egregious display of wealth at The Pep that had initially inspired Andy to found The Shire-well, that along with a viewing of the remake of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, starring Kevin Costner. Andy asked himself: What if I robbed from the rich and gave to the poor, just like Robin Hood?
Discussing this at school, Andy found among his peers others who shared a disdain for the gross display of wasteful spending. They’d never intended to hurt anybody. It was just for fun, and sure, the rush of doing something illegal and daring had its own appeal. The Shire stole small sums of money from the rich parents of students at Pepperell Academy and gave it anonymously to various worthwhile charities. They monitored the e-mails and text messages of their wealthy victims, and the few parents who even noticed the missing money simply changed their online banking passwords. The amounts taken were always negligible when compared to the size of the bank accounts that Troy had taught them how to access.
Always negligible, until now.
Andy took off his backpack and slammed it to the ground. “This isn’t going anywhere,” he growled. As group leader, Andy felt it was his mess to unravel, and he looked each member in the eyes: Rafa, Solomon, David, Hilary, and, once again, Pixie. “One of us has it, and that kind of money isn’t going to just disappear without somebody taking notice. This isn’t our usual small skim here. This is the big-time, people, and we need to put the money back where we got it. Now!”
David was about to respond when his gaze drifted to the girl coming up behind Andy. Andy turned to look, and upset as he was, he couldn’t suppress a broad and almost silly grin. Every hormone in Andy’s body came alive. He was so jacked up on teenage lust or love or whatever that the seriousness of the situation evaporated upon the arrival of Beth MacDonald.
To Andy, Beth MacDonald looked like every unattainable girlfriend in every ’80s teen film he’d ever seen (and he’d streamed them all). She had a dynamite smile, wavy blond hair, full lips, and the most dazzling green eyes imaginable. Hilary noticed Andy noticing Beth, and frowned.
“Hey, Beth,” Andy said, with that same toothy grin.
“Hi, Andy. Hi, guys and gal,” Beth said, directing her last greeting at Hilary. Hilary smiled weakly and tried not to look like she was checking out how Beth wore her uniform. “What are you doing?”
“Just talking,” Andy said. “What’s up?”
“Nothing. I was hoping we could study for that trig test together.”
Andy was thinking that he wanted nothing more in life than to spend every waking minute with Beth studying for that trig test. Beth was thinking that she really wanted a good grade. And she was thinking about Andy, too, at least sort of, in a strange way, because he really wasn’t her type. Her type was supposed to be Ryan Coventry, the boy she’d broken up with last week. Ryan was all-American handsome, and could have been a stand-in for Thor if the Norse god ever sported a flattop. In addition to his strong jawline, piercing blue eyes, and facial features all in proportion with the golden ratio of beauty, Ryan was captain of the football, wrestling, and lacrosse teams. He was also a champion debater, who, at the tender age of eleven, had made a list of life goals that included attending Harvard undergrad and Yale law school. Now a senior, Ryan could check at least one item off the list: along with four other students from The Pep, he had been accepted as an early decision into Harvard.
While Andy looked unblinking at Beth, Hilary made several short whistles, sounds of alarm. Andy followed Hilary’s line of sight and immediately saw what was making her nervous. Ryan Coventry was marching toward the group from the direction of the Society Building, which housed classrooms for mathematics and humanities. He looked ready for a fight.
CHAPTER 6
Beth took a few steps back to get some distance from Andy and his friends. One glance told her that Ryan had her in his sights. From the red splotches creeping up Ryan’s beefy neck, Beth knew the coming blowup was going to be a doozy. She contemplated running, but didn’t want to make a scene.
Sure enough, Ryan skipped the snide remarks about David’s long hair (a first) and didn’t even bother elbowing Andy in the taunting way he often did when the two passed in the halls. His ire, his complete and total focus, was reserved for Beth MacDonald. He grabbed Beth’s shoulder before she had a chance to pull away. Her upper arm seemed to vanish within Ryan’s massive hand.
“We need to talk,” Ryan said in a commanding voice.
Beth shrugged hard and freed herself from his hold, but the look on her face showed that it had hurt.
“Ryan, there’s nothing to talk about,” Beth said. She turned and tried to walk away, but Ryan accelerated, grabbed her once again, and forced her back around.
“There’s plenty to talk about,” he said in a low voice, almost a growl.
Afraid, Beth bent at the knees to try and break from his hold, but this time Ryan wouldn’t let go. She squirmed, trying to get loose.
Andy’s every impulse was to stop Ryan and help Beth. But would she welcome his involvement? It could turn into a thing between them. “Why did you interfere?” he imagined Beth might say. “This was between me and Ryan.” He didn’t want to upset her.
“You’re hurting me, Ryan. I said there’s nothing to talk about. Now leave me alone, you asshole!”
“No. Not until you talk to me, Beth.”
Andy had enough. Ryan Coventry was way out of line, threatening even. Stepping forward, Andy tapped Ryan hard, several times, between his shoulder blades.
“Leave her alone, Ryan,” Andy said. His voice came out a little weaker than he had intended; but then again, Ryan had four inches and seventy pounds on him.
Ryan whirled, catching Beth by surprise. She stumbled clumsily forward, and would have pitched face-first onto the grass, were it not for the pythonlike grip Ryan maintained around her wrist. For a time, Ryan said nothing as he glared at Andy with rabid eyes. A bull might have shuddered under his hostile gaze.
“What did you just say to me?” Ryan snarled.
“I said leave her alone, dickhead.”
“No, no, you didn’t,” David said, correcting Andy. “You called him Ryan, not ‘dickhead.’ You added the ‘dickhead’ part after.”
Pixie spoke up. “Good embellishment, though. Way more effective. I bet that’s what he wished he said the first time.”