by Bret Schulte
After making a few practice circles, Felix was swerving and looping around the field as if he were surfing on an invisible wave--although one time he looped around too fast and nearly choked himself with the extension cord. He was starting to get really cocky now, rocking the board back and forth, dancing in the air.
“Give other people a chance,” Lucas yelled in a half-friendly, half-impatient tone.
Felix responded with a rude hand gesture.
“Bring it on back,” Doc Frost said, his finger resting next to the power button.
Felix hovered back to the truck at high speed. He leaned back and stopped immediately.
“That was the coolest thing ever,” he said as he freed his shoes from the bindings and jumped off the board.
Doc Frost hit the stop button, and the board fell lifelessly to the ground.
Lucas went next, followed by Carla and two other students before class ran out. Doc Frost made his apologies to everyone who didn’t get a ride. The hoverboard was going back to the lab, but if he could arrange another field test they might get a shot. Otherwise everyone was going to have to wait a few years for the boards to show up in stores. Apparently there was a lot of safety testing to do first.
Lucas remembered he was cold as they walked back to the building to grab their books. Not surprisingly, he had forgotten all about it while sky surfing. Fortunately this was their last class for the day, so there was no need to hurry back.
“Seriously, that was insanely cool,” he said while rubbing his arms for warmth.
“It looked cool. I bet they’ll be really expensive.” Sam knew she would never be able to afford one.
“That’s true,” he agreed glumly.
They were the last ones back to the empty classroom; apparently everyone else was afraid Sam would steal their stuff. She examined her book closely just to make sure no one had done anything unfriendly to it. The last time she left a book unattended, someone had glued all the pages together with nail polish.
“This will be another fun thing to tell Natch that he missed,” Lucas said with a devious sneer.
“He doesn’t take Physics, he doesn’t take English, and he doesn’t take Math. What does he take?” she asked.
“I have no idea.” Lucas shrugged his shoulders. “He hides everything. I’ve never seen any of his schoolbooks. He does his homework at the library or something.”
Somebody must have thought to pack an Ultimate Frisbee disk in their backpack, because a twenty-person game had broken out on the quad already.
“Maybe he takes classes at the university.” She didn’t like the idea that Natch could be that much smarter than she, or at least farther along in school than she. “Zoey takes some science classes across the lake.”
“Really? That’s impressive. The only thing I go to MHU for is to let Dr. Zhang hook electrodes to my head.”
Sam had had mixed results with her two trips to the college side. The dodos were awesome, but being hauled into Dean Futuro’s office most certainly was not.
“I, uh,” Lucas said.
And that was all he said.
“You, uh, what?” Sam asked jokingly.
But from the look on his face Lucas took her mimicking as an insult instead of the gentle kidding she intended.
“Never mind,” he said looking at the sidewalk.
“No I’m sorry, what did you have to say?” she asked softly.
“It’s not important.”
They walked in silence for a while. He kept his eyes on the sidewalk as they walked. He slammed his fist into his right leg twice.
“So do you know what you’re going to be for Halloween?” he asked. He had perked back up.
“No. I hadn’t really thought about it. It really crept up on me though. Time flies so fast here. There’s just so much new stuff to get used to,” she said. It was true, too. Maybe she should get a calendar so she could keep track of time better.
“Me either,” he said. “We have a few weeks to decide, though, I guess.”
“Yeah,” she said.
Zoey and Tasha were super excited for the dance. Sam figured she would be to if she didn’t have more important things to worry about right now.
“Wow, that’s right I needed to ask you something?”
“Yeah?” His voice went a little higher than usual. His eyes locked onto hers.
“Yeah. I need to talk to your friend Esteban.”
“Oh, Esteban. Sure, we can do that,” he said. His eyes darted away from hers. He fumbled in his pocket a bit and pulled out his swipe card. “I’ve got the magic key to get you in.”
It was weird. She hadn’t really thought about it before, but she had never been inside Hathaway Hall. She was strangely nervous as Lucas swiped them in and they rode the elevator up.
The building was designed exactly like Cooper Hall, but it had an odd smell. When the elevator doors opened on Lucas’s floor it struck her just how different the hallways looked. None of the guys had decorated their doors. Every single door on Sam’s hall had photos or construction paper decorations or something on them.
Then again, no one on Sam’s hall had a metal dungeon door like the one in this hallway.
“Guess which room is Esteban’s.”
The guys in the hall didn’t give her a second look as they scurried about.
“Everyone’s getting ready for the big game tonight,” Lucas explained.
The Miller’s Grove Fighting Martians were playing the Newport Prep Neanderthals. Apparently it was a big deal.
Lucas banged on the metal door.
“Esteban, are you home?”
“Of course, I’m home. Where else would I be?” a voice from beyond the door said.
“The bathroom maybe. You do go to the bathroom, right?”
“What do you want?” Esteban asked.
“Sam needs to ask you something,” he said, gesturing for her to speak to the door.
“Hi, Esteban. We met earlier, sort of. You were a robot at the time. I have a favor to ask,” she said, feeling completely ridiculous.
“Sure thing, Samantha Hathaway,” Esteban said through the door.
“Can you, uh, access the university’s computer systems?” she asked. Lucas gave her a surprised look.
“Already in. What do you need?”
“Nothing sneaky,” she said. “Just any files they have on me. And anything related to the, uh, Witch Hunter’s Gauntlet or monuments of endless winter.”
Lucas looked at her like she was nuts. So did a boy walking back from the bathroom. Sam didn’t care. She needed answers fast.
“Not a problem. But my services are not free,” the voice said.
Of course not. He was a friend of Natch’s, after all.
“Lucas? Go away for a minute,” the voice said.
“Um, really?”
“This is private Lucas,” Esteban said.
Lucas raised his hands and stepped back. “No problem.”
Sam stood there by the door in silence for a moment. Lucas stood several doors down, waiting.
“So what do you need, Esteban?” she asked.
“Can you get me a date to the dance with Zoey?” Esteban asked so quietly through the door that she could barely hear him.
“Zoey?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll try,” she said. She had never played matchmaker before. It could be fun. Zoey didn’t have a date yet. Then again, she knew nothing about Esteban. “No promises, though.”
“Thank you,” he said.
Chapter 12
We Have Spirit, Yes We Do
If Sam was going to talk Zoey into going to the Halloween dance with Esteban, she was going to have to go to the last place she had ever expected to go: a football game.
Fortunately, Lucas agreed to go to the game with her. He even had a pair of plastic blue and gold pompoms. He had one clipped to the back of his Miller’s Grove Academy Fighting Martians hat, and supposedly he bought the other one to give to his o
lder sister over Christmas, although it seemed unlikely she would be all that excited about a pom-pom from her little brother’s school.
Sam decided not to argue with that story. She really wanted him to go to the game with her, and insulting him didn’t seem like a good way to make that happen. So she took the extra pom-pom and rushed back to her room to get her blue sweater and yellow scarf.
Lucas met her outside her dorm in a thick gray coat.
“Are you ready for some football?” he asked in a loud deep voice.
“I guess,” she said.
Zoey was already at the game. Once Sam saw the stadium, she realized it was going to be a lot more difficult to find Zoey in this crowd than she originally thought. It didn’t help that it took nearly twenty minutes for them to buy two sodas, two hot dogs, and some extra cheesy nachos. Lucas volunteered to carry it all.
Lucas scanned the thousand or so cheering people in the stands. “So, where do you think she would camp out?”
“No idea.” There were way too many people here.
“Who is she sitting with? Maybe we can find them.”
“Nobody, as far as I know. I told her I wasn’t going and Tasha has practice or something.”
“Well, that will make this a bit more difficult,” Lucas said. “Okay, that side has an awful lot of ‘KILL THE MARTIANS’ banners, so I’m guessing that is the opposing team’s fan section. Let’s look over here.”
Picking their way through the hungry crowd on their way to the stands, Sam couldn’t help but notice that these people were way more into this game than she was. Everyone was decked out in Miller’s Grove Fighting Martians apparel. It was a sea of blue and gold.
And who were all these people? Apparently nearly everyone’s parents must have flown in to watch this game. Sam couldn’t imagine Helen and Harold flying all the way back just to watch a football game.
“Just the two of you? How cozy. How sad.” Zack stepped in front Lucas.
“Go away Zack,” Lucas said.
“Wow, that really hurts,” Zack said, sniffing back a fake tear. “That looks like quite the handful there.”
He swiped at the poorly balanced food in Lucas’ arms. Lucas twisted out of the way so fast one of the hot dogs rolled off, taking a big glob of nacho cheese with it.
“You’re buying us a new hot dog, Zack,” Lucas said, kicking the cheesy mess at him.
“Tell you what,” Zack kicked the hot dog at Sam, missing her by half an inch. “If there are any leftovers in the skybox, I’ll have them sent down to you.”
Sam couldn’t help herself. “What skybox?”
Zack smiled that smile of his. “Tiffany Summers’s ultra-exclusive skybox. Complete with its own private bathrooms, wifi, satellite TV, and catered buffet.”
“So no one will actually bother to watch the game. Brilliant,” Lucas said.
“Well, duh,” Zack said. “Did I mention that a bunch of her Hollywood friends showed up to not watch the game? In fact, I’d better get back up there; the redhead from Teenage Wasteland is waiting for me.”
“Selena Marsh?” Lucas asked, failing to hide his admiration.
“That’s it, Selena. Thanks a lot.”
A cheer rose out of the stadium and spread across the crowd in line for snacks.
“Well, sounds like they scored again. Way to go, Coach Spaceman,” Zack said with a smirk. “Well, I’ve clearly got much better people waiting for me, so I’m out of here.”
Nothing would have made Sam happier than to fling the remaining hot dog at his smug head as he strutted away, but it was Lucas’s hot dog, so she restrained herself.
“Let’s just find our seats,” Lucas said, a bit dejected.
“Do you really think a bunch of celebrities are here?” she asked as she dodged around food-laden football fans.
“Probably. Tiffany has to have some friends somewhere, right?” Lucas kept fighting his way through the crowd to the stairs leading to the stands.
They stopped at the base of the stands. From here they could see the field. Someone had spent an insane amount of money on this football field. After all, how many high school football stadiums had better grass than a golf course, or jumbotrons? On the screen she saw Coach Powers chewing out one of the players.
“Found her.”
They found Zoey in the exact center of the stands. She had a thick, fuzzy zebra-striped coat on and a blue and gold blanket across her legs. There was a two-liter bottle of Diet Pepsi on her right side, and a huge tray of nachos in her lap. But more surprising than her preparedness was her company. Jerry, Sick, and Wrong were huddled together for warmth next to her. It was the first time Sam had ever seen Wrong without a video camera in his hand, but he still had the earbuds in.
“How’s it going, guys?” Lucas asked, taking a seat on the opposite side of Zoey from them. He left enough room for Sam.
“So cold,” Sick whined through chattering teeth.
“Man up, ladies,” Zoey yelled.
“Wow, how’s it going, Zoey?” Sam asked sitting down next to her on the cold, cold steel bleachers.
“We’re up fourteen to six. Neanderthal punks couldn’t make a field goal. Losers,” she said incredibly loudly.
“I see,” Sam said, grabbing a nacho. “So you remember the whole riddle thing? The one we got in that message recently. Anyway, I figured out someone who might be able to help-“
“Get ‘em. Smash ‘em. Don’t let him get away, you pansies,” Zoey yelled at the players.
“But he wants something in return.” Sam checked to make sure Lucas and the boys weren’t listening.
“Uh-huh,” Zoey said flatly, her eyes never looking away from the field.
“He wants to go to the dance with you,” Sam said quietly.
This got Zoey’s attention.
“Who does?”
“Esteban,” she whispered.
“Who’s that?”
“The guy with the robots.”
“Oh, Robot Boy. Sure. But I thought he never leaves his room,” she said.
“I guess he is willing to make an exception for you,” Sam said, raising her eyebrows encouragingly.
“Wow.” Zoey thought that over. “Wait, what was he like?”
“I don’t know. I talked to him through a door.”
“Through a door?”
“Yeah.”
“Quirky,” Zoey said. “Did he say what kind of costume he was going to wear?”
“No, why?”
“Just to see if I want to find a matching one or something. I already picked mine out, though.”
“I’m sure that will be fine. He probably-“
She was cut off by the sudden tones of “The Imperial March” from Star Wars. Sick rummaged around in his pocket until he found his phone.
“Speak to me.”
He looked over at Sam.
“Yeah, she’s right here.”
Sam smiled at him inquisitively, but he looked away.
“Okay.”
He crammed the phone back into his pocket without saying another word.
Everyone except Wrong was looking at Sick expectantly. It hadn’t escaped anyone’s attention that he was talking about Sam. She wanted to know who would have called him asking about her. Pretty much everyone she knew and liked was sitting less than five feet away.
“So Sick,” Lucas started, a trace of concern and a wee bit of annoyance in his voice. “What was that about?”
“Shh,” he replied, his eyes still locked forward. “I don’t want to miss the show.”
Before anyone could ask, “What show?” the gigantic plasma screen flashed from a shot of the spiraling football in mid flight to a close-up of Tiffany Summers’s gigantic, smiling face. Her mouth was at least four feet wide; if she wanted, she could chomp down and swallow Sam whole. Every molecule of Sam’s body was telling her to run and hide.
Slowly the camera pulled back from Tiffany to reveal a room full of pretty people laughing and bopping along t
o music. Half of the Disney Channel’s prime-time lineup was in there, along with Tiffany, Zack, and the rest of their usual posse. The camera followed Tiffany around as she flitted about the celebrities like a hummingbird determined to drink the nectar of every flower in the world’s most exclusive botanical center. As she drank up the fame, she got bouncier and more erratic.
Tiffany was tugging on the arm of a boy who played the youngest brother on Sam’s favorite show. Tiffany was trying to get him to dance with her, but he clearly wasn’t in it. Sam smiled a bit. But her smile faded just as quickly; behind them she spotted Natch picking over the hor d’oeuvres, and Sam finally realized what was happening.
It was Natch who had called Sick. He wanted to make sure she didn’t miss Tiffany’s little documentary about how cool she was. She didn’t know why he had suddenly made it his goal in life to torment her; maybe it was the only way he could impress his cool new friends. She didn’t care, and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
Sam was on her feet in an instant, putting as much distance between her and the others as she could just in case they would try to convince her that it really wasn’t so bad and she should stay-or, worse, if they decided to storm out with her. There was no reason for them to miss the rest of the game.
Besides, she wasn’t exactly responding in the most mature way possible, and she didn’t need a bunch of people tagging along drawing even more attention to her. As it was, she hoped that the annoyed people she stepped around just thought she was desperately rushing to the bathroom or something. It didn’t matter what they thought, as long as they paid as little attention to her as possible.
She wasn’t fast enough. A tidal wave of derisive laughter hit her from all directions. Ducking her head to avoid looking up at the giant TV screen, she pushed her way through the crowd.
Before she could reach the safety of the stairs, someone grabbed her right wrist and spun her around. Instinctively she curled her left hand into a fist and swung blindly at her attacker. She smacked Lucas right in the ear.
“Ow.” He released her arm so he could rub his ear.
“I am so sorry,” she said, yelling over the roaring laughter.
“That’s okay,” he said, still rubbing his ear. “My fault, I guess. But I had to stop you. Look at the screen.”