She holds her oversize tab in front of her face, saying, “That’s right, Owen. An unnamed source is confirming young Caldwell was found with distinct visor marks.” I walk behind her, looking at the photo that now fills her tab. I don’t get a great look, but I can see it’s of Caldwell’s forehead, the Equip marks clearly visible.
My shaking hand comes up to my forehead and I stand motionless in the crowd.
It’s the same picture that was sent to Josh.
“Unfortunately,” the reporter says ominously, “we may need to wait until Anthony Caldwell wakes up for definite confirmation on the Equip connection.”
Suddenly, Zoe is bathed in a pool of light that casts shadows on her mocha skin.
“And how do you feel about all this, young lady?” says a tall, athletic man in a cashmere overcoat, pointing his tab toward her.
“What?” Zoe asks. I’ve never seen her exude anything but confidence; however, she wasn’t expecting to be ambushed by the media. She nervously takes off her Florapetro glasses as she swallows, looking directly into the screen.
“Are you an E-fiend? Do you want to stay inside Elusion so badly that you’ll do anything to make that happen?”
“No” is Zoe’s simple reply.
“Ever been invited to an Elusion party in a warehouse?”
“An Elusion party?” Zoe asks, confused.
“Does this room look familiar?” The man shows her a picture he has blown up on his oversize tab.
“No, I’ve never seen this place before.” Zoe says.
But the photo looks more than familiar to me.
A dark, barren room with tools scattered across the tops of makeshift worktables, dirty mattresses, and piles of computer hardware fragments. MealFreeze containers, IV bags, and pill bottles litter the floor. The only thing missing from the picture is the number 5020 spray-painted on the wall, but there’s still no mistaking it.
It’s the warehouse where Josh took me. The “E-fiend” hangout.
The room where he last saw Nora.
Suddenly I know who the unnamed source is, and I’m wondering how long I have before the information on the QuTap is released too.
One thing is certain—I have been played.
Without saying good-bye to Zoe, I’m off and running, and no one can stop me.
The first thing I do once I’m inside Building A is send a message to Josh.
Where r u? Need to talk ASAP.
No response.
Ignoring the warning bell, I dart toward the south side of the school, where the seniors have a huge block of lockers, my bag weighing me down but not deterring me one bit. I turn the corner and spot him waiting for the elevator less than twenty feet away.
“Josh!” I call out, but he doesn’t hear me above the overwhelming chatter of our classmates, who are relentlessly gossiping about Anthony and Mr. Caldwell. He disappears inside an elevator, typing on his tab. Almost simultaneously, my phone buzzes with a message from him.
Chem lab. Tlk l8r.
He’s avoiding me.
What the hell is wrong with him? I thought we were a team, and now I find out he’s gone to the media without me? Is this all because of last night? I know there was tension between us right before he left my house, but in light of everything that’s going on, how could he be holding that against me? Or has he found out something else that’s spurred him to act sooner rather than later? Even if that’s the reason, why didn’t he at least give me a heads-up first?
I have to talk to Josh now, even if it means stalking him through the school. The information on that QuTap was taken from my dad’s computer, and whether he likes it or not, it really belongs to me.
As kids begin to clear out of the hall, anxiously hurrying to get inside classrooms before the final bell, I dash to the elevator bank, pressing the up button several times in succession. I groan in frustration, watching the antiquated lights as the elevator slowly ascends, making its way to the eighth floor, where all the science labs are located.
An adjacent elevator opens and I rush inside, happy that no one else follows me in. I press the button marked with the number 8, my palms slick with perspiration and my throat dry. The last bell rings, signaling the beginning of class. I’m officially late to English. Worse yet, it means that the GPS signal on my tab will soon give my location away, and whatever administrator is nearest will happily come and collect me.
I only have a few minutes.
After what seems like an eternity, I reach the eighth floor. I quietly walk down the hall, peering in the window of each classroom to see if Josh is inside, but he isn’t there. We’re not allowed to have our tabs on during class, but I text him anyway, just in case.
On 8th floor. What class r u in?
Then I see something odd—the door to the B stairwell closing automatically, as if someone just entered through it.
The B stairwells are to be used only in case of emergency. In fact, I’ve never even been inside one. I swipe my passcard near the lockpad and the door slides open. Directly opposite me is another door that leads outside to the flat tar roof. It must be left over from before this building was remodeled, because it’s heavy steel and still has a handle, which I try turning, but it won’t budge.
I’m not about to retreat.
I put all of my weight against the heavy steel door, pushing with my back and using my quad muscles to provide most of the force. The door nudges open, ever so slightly, allowing me to leverage all my strength to shove it the rest of the way.
That’s when I see Josh on the opposite side of the roof.
Talking to Avery Leavenworth.
I can’t hear a word of what they’re saying, but I don’t have to.
Josh is handing Avery the QuTap I used to take data off the quantum computer at Orexis—my father’s computer, damn it.
“No!” I yell, my voice filled with pure venom.
Josh turns toward me and for a moment our eyes lock. I can’t think. I can’t feel. But when my gaze shifts toward Avery and she pulls her frizzy red hair back from her face and gives me a smug, self-satisfied smile, my entire body feels like it’s been thrown into an inferno.
“Regan Welch!” I hear someone shout.
The deep, booming sound startles me, and I step back clumsily, crashing into a wall of bulk and flab. I turn around and see Mr. Oxbow, the tenth-grade vice principal with the highest rate of issued demerits, standing there frowning at me. I would say that he’s angry, but since he always looks really aggravated, it’s hard to gauge his feelings.
Even so, there’s no way he could be more furious than me.