by Diana Urban
“Hey, wait . . .” I adjusted my grip to flip through the stack. Some of the flyers were nasty rumors about Jason Goding, her opponent, including one reading, Jason Goding stole class funds last year. Vote for him if you want our senior prom stolen. Another read, Jason Goding cheated on his history final. Don’t let him cheat our class, too. “These are all lies.”
Sasha frowned. “So?”
“So? I’m not helping you spread fake news.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not a big deal—”
“Amber!” Priya skirted the crowds milling about before the warning bell rang, rolling a poker chip over her knuckles. She’d been practicing nonstop since our “jam session” last Sunday, when she taught herself one of David Thurston’s magic tricks.
Sasha scrunched her brow. “What are you doing?”
The chip fell from Priya’s grasp and bounced across the floor, coming to a stop near Scott Coleman’s feet. “Oh, crap. Sorry,” she said as Scott handed her the chip.
“No worries. Happy to be of service.” He flashed her a goofy grin. Scott had asked Priya out at least once a semester since eighth grade, but she could never date the class stoner—her mother would ground her for life if she even said the word “weed.”
“Thanks,” she said, blushing. Shy little Priya had a thing for dangerous boys.
“Hey, Red, what’s shakin—”
“She said thanks,” Sasha snapped, flicking her hand in a shooing motion. He snorted and walked away, and she glanced back at Priya. “So what’s with the poker chip?”
“It’s for a magic trick,” said Priya. “I was practicing on the bus, I didn’t even notice I was still doing it—”
“You took the school bus?”
Priya flushed. “Yeah, well, it’s pouring, I didn’t want to bike—”
“Oh my God, you’re so adorable.” Sasha smiled brightly.
Priya chuckled awkwardly.
Sasha turned to me and clutched her forehead. “Dammit, I really have to go study for bio. I’m coming over tonight after practice. We’ll study together.” She motioned to all three of us.
“I don’t need to study anymore,” I said. We’d spent most days together recently, which was fun—I’d never had such a bustling social life, especially with all the parties Sasha invited me to—but it was exhausting. “Can’t you study with Amy and Maria? Or Robbie?”
She snorted. “Those girls have zero interest in their GPAs, and all Robbie ever wants to do is play Fortnite.”
“Well, I really have to focus on the Romeo and Juliet score.”
“No worries. Priya and I will listen while we study.” Before I could protest, she bumped her cheek against mine, then against Priya’s, and strolled off.
I grumbled under my breath, but I had to admit, her manic drive was motivating. We were overachievers who fed off of each other’s intensity. Sometimes I’d play an in-progress track for her, and she’d offer surprisingly good feedback—albeit delivered with a dash of snark. But then she’d smile brightly, as if to show she was just pushing me to be the best I could be.
Priya shook her head as she watched Sasha disappear down the hall. “I don’t understand.” Her voice rattled. “Why does she hate me so much?”
“What do you mean? She doesn’t hate you,” I said as we meandered toward our French class. “She invites you to all of her parties. She literally just invited you to study with us.”
“Seriously? Did you not hear her? I’m adorable?”
“Yeah, so? You are.”
“That’s not what she meant,” Priya moped, tugging on her shimmery blue scarf. “She was being condescending. You know, she’s sidelined me every game so far.”
“Really? I didn’t know cheerleaders got benched.”
“Not benched. Sidelined. I’m just supposed to cheer and rile up the crowd instead of doing stunts. But she knows I’m bad at being loud.”
“Well, maybe that’s the point. She’s pushing you to do better. She’s trying to help.” I dropped the stack of flyers on the floor under a bulletin board and held up one with Sasha’s headshot. “She knows you wish you weren’t so shy. And you have been more outgoing lately.”
“I guess . . .”
Grinning, I flicked her arm. “That’s what friends do for each other. They help each other.” I brandished Sasha’s stack of flyers as proof.
Her eyes widened. “Oh my God. If she’s been trying to help me this whole time—I mean, she did let me onto the team—shoot, what if I seem ungrateful? Maybe that’s why she’s mad at me.” She bit her lip.
The warning bell rang, and the milling crowds broke apart to head to their first class.
“She’s not mad at you,” I said. “Seriously, I think you’re reading too much into what she said.”
Priya nodded, but she still looked worried. As we headed to class, I paused at a trash bin. Should I dump the flyers that lied about Jason? Friends helped friends, and that meant keeping them from getting caught in a lie. I dropped the incriminating flyers into the trash bin and headed to class.
After the final bell rang, I shuffled to my locker, eager to get home and take a nap before Sasha came over. As I tugged open my locker, Priya dashed over, whisper-shouting my name. “Amber! You’ve got to help me!”
“Why are you whispering all weird?”
“I did something bad.” Priya’s voice shook. “Really, really bad.” Her eyes, wide and watery, darted around the hall.
“What did you do?”
She unzipped her backpack and tugged out the edge of a manila folder. “I stole the answers to our bio exam.”
“You did what?”
“I did it after fifth period—I knew Mrs. Tanner didn’t have class then. That’s when she has office hours. So I found the folder on her desk. I thought I’d just snap pics of the answer key, but then the janitor came in, and I panicked and hid the folder in my binder. You know, I’ve been practicing sleight of hand . . .”
“And what, you thought you could magic the folder back onto her desk?”
“I don’t know! Like I said, I panicked.”
“But . . . what . . . why . . .” I didn’t even know where to begin. “Did anyone else see you?”
She shook her head. “No. The janitor didn’t even see; he was busy listening to music and taking out the trash. I just slipped out.”
“Why did you do this?”
“For Sasha!” Priya shoved the folder back into her bag. “She was so stressed about our bio midterm, and you said she’s been trying to help me, so I wanted to do something to help her, too.”
“That doesn’t mean you should have stolen an exam. God, Priya—”
“I know, I know.”
“Did you send the answers to Sasha?”
Priya cringed. “I figured I might as well.” She grabbed my wrists. “But please . . . please . . . you have to help me.”
“How?”
“I need to get the folder back on Mrs. Tanner’s desk, in the same spot, but she’s in there now with a bunch of people. I think she’s supervising some club.” She wiped sweat off her upper lip. “But I have to do this before the end of the day, before she notices.”
“Maybe she already has! She’s already had a few periods to notice it’s gone.”
Priya choked back a sob. “I know. I know!” She rubbed her forehead. “I went back between every period after history, but she was always there. She must have a bladder of steel.” She let out a hybrid squeal and growl sound. “Maybe I should just toss it. She’d never know it was me.”
“No, no,” I said. “You can’t throw it out. Then she’ll know someone took it, and if she questions everyone, you’ll get caught for sure. You’re an even worse liar than I am.” I rubbed my eyes.
“Oh my God,” said Priya. “My mom is going to kill me if she finds out. What if this goes on my permanent record?” Her eyes widened, and she gripped her throat. “What if I get expelled?”
“Priya.” I clutched her shoulders. “Calm d
own, okay? We’ll fix this. Can’t you just wait around until whatever club it is lets out?”
She bit her lip. “I thought about that—but what if she goes to make copies of the test right after, before she goes home? She’ll know it’s gone.”
I slammed my locker shut. “Alright. Let’s scope out the situation.”
“Thank you, thank you . . . I’m so, so sorry.” Priya whispered apologies all the way to the science wing. “We need to distract her somehow. Maybe we should pull the fire alarm? No, then we’d get in bigger trouble.”
“We? Who’s we? You’re the one who stole the test. I’m not doing anything that extreme.” Mrs. Tanner’s classroom door was wide open, and voices and laughter floated into the hall. I stood behind the row of adjacent lockers and leaned over, peering into the room.
Mrs. Tanner wasn’t at her desk, which was next to the door. She stood writing something on the chalkboard running along the adjacent wall—I couldn’t tell what with the glare from the windows—while a bunch of people sat around two of the lab tables. Diego was speaking. “I think we should build an aquifer prototype.”
Amanda, a sophomore I recognized, screwed up her face. “Ugh, that’s so boring, though. What about my 3D virtual reality idea?”
“Yeah, I liked that one,” someone else chimed in.
Diego shook his head. “But better groundwater management could help so many developing countries. People are dying of thirst, every day.”
“I think it’s the Science Olympiad club,” I whispered to Priya. She nodded, her lips puckered as though to keep herself from puking. I pulled my bio notebook from my backpack and rifled through the pages. “Okay, here’s the plan. I’m going to ask Mrs. Tanner a question and try to get her to face the windows. While she’s distracted, drop the exam on her desk when nobody’s looking.”
Priya nodded again so vigorously she looked like a bobblehead.
“Let’s get this over with.”
“Wait—” Priya whispered, but I was already knocking on the open door. All eyes in the room shifted to me, and Mrs. Tanner stopped writing on the blackboard. “Um, sorry, Mrs. Tanner? Do you have a sec? I have a quick question before our midterm tomorrow.”
“Ah, sure thing.” Mrs. Tanner set down the chalk and clapped the dust off her hands. “Melissa, can you take over up here? You guys keep brainstorming.”
Mrs. Tanner started toward us, but I made a beeline for an empty desk at the far end of the room, next to the windows, nearly barreling over poor Melissa, who stood to transcribe while her fellow Olympiads shouted out ideas. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“No, it’s no problem.” Mrs. Tanner pinched the bridge of her nose. “I should have rescheduled the Olympiad meeting and held extra office hours this afternoon. So what’s up?”
She seemed frazzled, maybe a little overworked, but showed no signs of concern or anger that her midterm had been stolen. Maybe she hadn’t gotten around to making copies yet. I stood at the farthest lab table from the desk and set down my notebook, so Mrs. Tanner and I both faced the windows to look at my notes. “I had a question about . . .” I frantically scanned my bullet points for something believably confusing. “Osmosis. I wasn’t sure if I wrote this down right. What’s the difference between hypertonic and hypotonic solutions? I think I might’ve mixed them up?”
Mrs. Tanner raised her eyebrows. “Did you look up the definitions in your textbook? Or online?”
I grimaced. Of course, finding a definition online would have been way faster than asking her for help. “I . . . well, yeah, I did, but . . . well, I guess I’m more confused about how we’d know which is which? You know, in a . . . practical application? I couldn’t find a good explanation . . .”
“Ah”—she lowered her voice—“well, that’s more than you’ll need to know for the test. I only ask for the definitions.” She gave a sly smile, like she was divulging classified intel. “But since you asked, I’ll tell you anyway.” As Mrs. Tanner babbled on about cells shrinking or swelling, I glanced over my shoulder and gave Priya a pointed look. She inched her way to Mrs. Tanner’s desk, keeping an eye on the Olympiads, who watched Diego and Amanda argue about the merits of aquifers like a tennis match.
“Nobody wants to do aquifers,” said Amanda. A few other people nodded in agreement.
Diego pressed a clenched fist against his lips, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe Amanda’s stupidity. “Listen,” he finally said, “taking on a project that ends human suffering will get us more points. Water depletion is killing people. Killing babies. Better aquifers can save lives and make entire regions more socially and economically stable. None of the judges care about 3D virtual reality. Maybe augmented reality . . . but those are such first world problems.”
“You’re one to talk about first world problems,” said Amanda. “Who the hell needs a sponge that changes colors?”
Diego wiped his hand down his face, like he was tired of hearing about his own invention. “I came up with that years ago, okay? This has nothing to do with SpongeClown . . .” As a few people snickered, Priya lifted the edge of a stack of folders on the desk, clutching the stolen midterm folder in her other hand.
“Face it, Spongeman,” said Amanda, her tone haughty. “Your idea’s boring. We should go with mine instead.” A few people cackled at her jab. Why was Diego letting her steamroll him like this?
“Guys, let’s keep things civil, shall we?” said Mrs. Tanner, turning toward the group. Priya leapt back, still gripping the folder, looking guilty. Time seemed to slow, and panic settled on me like acrid fog as I visualized what would happen next. Mrs. Tanner would spot the folder in Priya’s hand and understand what we were doing. I’d get suspended, and my parents would punish me by taking away everything that made me whole—my keyboard, my violin, my computer, my music. I wouldn’t be able to work on the play, and Sasha would change her mind about letting me compose it. The walls felt like they were closing in on me.
But I couldn’t let myself dissolve in a panic. I had to do something to get out of this.
“AQUIFERS!” I practically shrieked. Mrs. Tanner jumped, and everyone turned to stare at me. Heat flowed into my cheeks, and I knew I was red as a tomato. “Um . . . I think you should go with Diego’s aquifers idea.”
Amanda scowled. “Why should we listen to you?”
“Because . . . because . . .” I swallowed hard, my legs shaking, trying to think of something as Priya edged back to the stack of folders. “Because Diego’s right—every other school is going to do flashy projects like VR or 3D printing or whatever. Things that mostly matter to people who are already well-off. If you go with the aquifer idea, you’ll be doing something that can help people who are suffering every day, who aren’t in a position to help themselves.”
Diego raised his eyebrows, surprised. After a moment, he nodded. “Exactly. And if we can create an efficient, cost-effective aquifer prototype, companies in Africa and Asia can replicate the design.”
“Oh, sure.” Amanda rolled her eyes. “A bunch of high schoolers are going to be able to design something better than actual engineers.”
“Why not?” I said. “If you don’t think you can make a real difference, what the heck are you doing here?” A smile slid onto Diego’s lips, and something fluttered in my chest.
Priya gave me a thumbs-up from across the room. Unfortunately, Diego turned to follow my gaze and saw Priya’s thumbs-up, too. His head whipped back toward me, his smile gone, and I froze. Crap, crap, crap. How much did he see? Did he know what she did? Was he going to say something?
I grabbed my notebook. “Well, anyway, I have to get going. Lots of studying to do. Thanks for explaining all that, Mrs. Tanner.” I bustled across the room, avoiding Diego’s gaze, but his eyes bored into the back of my skull as Priya and I hurried out the door.
44 Minutes Left
“Hey,” said Diego. My eyes flew open to find him kneeling beside me as Robbie pummeled the door with a chair. Priya huddled under the o
pen window next to Scott, watching Robbie’s fruitless efforts, while Sasha circled the room, looking for clues. I released my ears, but flinched when the chair connected with the door again. “You okay?” Diego asked.
I hugged my knees close as waves of nausea rippled through me. “Just . . . feeling claustrophobic.”
Diego leaned back, his eyes wide with worry. “Want me to leave you alone?”
Oh, God. I had to get a grip. “No, no. It’s fine.” I swallowed hard and rested my head back against the cool bricks lining the fireplace. “It’s getting so hot. You don’t think we could suffocate in here, do you?”
He rubbed my upper arm reassuringly, shaking his head. “I doubt it. I’m sure the thermostat isn’t set that high.”
“What if the boiler’s busted or something?” I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. “What if it can get that high?”
Diego furrowed his brow, considering it. Across the room, Robbie wound up for another hit, and the sound of splitting wood filled the room. Was he finally getting somewhere? “Dammit.” Nope. The frame of the chair split down the middle. He cast aside the busted chair, which landed with a thud on the Oriental rug.
“Aargh!” Robbie slapped his palms against the door. “It’s no use.” He swiveled and found me on the floor with Diego, and clenched his jaw. “Still think this is some psycho scholarship test, Spongeman?” he asked Diego, balling his hands into fists.
Diego glanced at Scott, who grimaced in pain while he peeled off his leather jacket, and shook his head.
“There has to be some way out of here.” Sasha opened the bottom drawers of the china cabinet I’d already searched earlier, only finding tablecloths. “There has to be.” Her eyes darted around the room like a trapped animal’s.
“You don’t think killing someone’s the only way out of here, do you?” I asked Diego in a low voice.
Diego shook his head. “Ugh, I don’t know what to think anymore.” He stood and extended a hand toward me. I grabbed it, and he helped lift me to my feet. “It is getting hotter in here, even with that window open. Maybe we should break the other one, too. And the glass on these”—he tapped on one of the china cabinets—“in case there’s something useful inside—” He froze when something in the cabinet caught his eye.