“Then you admit you asked me out?”
“Why, do you want to take me up on my offer?”
“What?”
“You want to hang out Friday after school?”
“Um. Sure.” Choke! Gag! Vomit!
“You do?”
…
Once Mason recovered from the shock that I was willing to hang out with him (which, for the record, I was not—I had a mission, and not all missions are cotton candy, okay?) he said we should meet at the Shadow Passage. No surprise there. Kathryn said the gym-turned-video arcade was Mason’s hangout. Most of the kids from school hung out there. I suppose it could have been worse. I could have been meeting him in a dark alley.
Walking to the Shadow Passage Friday night was torture. I felt like a mastodon dragging itself through a tar pit. Every inch of my flesh had its foot on the brakes, every nucleus of every cell dropped its anchors, every endoplasmic reticulum screamed I do not want to do this. By the time I arrived, I was exhausted from the struggle.
A huge baby blue awning covered the entrance. Above the mirrored front door, a sign in spidery script read The Shadow Passage, Hidden Gateway to Adventure. I pulled the door open. Hard music and the bleeps and pings of video games blared into the street. Inside was brightly lit, and decorated like no arcade I had ever seen. Posters plastered the wall advertising free workshops on Self-esteem, Positive Self-talk, Respecting Others’ Feelings, Ways to Handle Anger, The Golden Rule, and The Benefits of a Positive Attitude. An old-fashioned pizza stand filled the center of the expansive room. Tables and booths were arranged along each sidewall. A series of monitors attached to exercise equipment occupied the majority of the room. Flashing neon signs identified each activity—Crown of Kings, Ferocious Beast Hunter, Grand Theft Bazooka, and a dozen other popular video games. Players wore visual reality headgear, wired up like patients in intensive care.
I took a seat in an unoccupied booth in the back corner where I could comfortably watch the entrance. Behind me, a long, lone table sat in front of a closed door. A sign on the door said SSA in bright gold letters. Across the arcade, I recognized Tish and Whatsisface. I slid down in my seat, hoping they wouldn’t notice me. Several other kids from my school were at various stations, running, pedaling, battling virtual enemies…the simulators reminded me of something Andy would concoct. I watched the station closest to me in amazement. The screen character’s motion mimicked the player’s movements. If they had a kung fu game, I would have totally thought about blowing off Mason and hooking myself up.
While I fantasized about pitting my skills against electronic opponents, Mason came through the front door. My first instinct was to disappear out the back, but I forced myself into Psi Fighter mode. It occurred to me that this was my first time out without my mask and armor. This mission was very different from my last one. My objective was to gather intelligence about a wombat who was connected to this Scallion person. I needed to know what said wombat knew. To do that, I had to pretend to be a girl who didn’t despise him. Even worse, he had to leave convinced that I enjoyed his company.
As he crossed the room, I noticed that Mason moved like a panther—disciplined, graceful—not a fighter’s walk, more like a hunter. His eyes fixed on me almost immediately.
“Hey,” Mason said, taking the seat across from me. A huge smile spread across his face. “You showed. Cool.”
“Were you worried?”
“A little. Okay, a lot. Nobody ever asks me about the Class Project. It’s usually me doing the asking.”
“So I’ve heard.”
Mason didn’t respond. He just sat there staring at me. I dropped my eyes to the tabletop, my nails tapping away nervously. Say something. Insult me. Call me Peroxide. I really did not want to be there. I would have preferred a dodgeball game. Or Mummy’s Magic Mix. In desperation, I asked the only thing that came to mind. “So, what’s with this place?”
Mason swept his hand around the arcade. “Welcome to the twenty-first century. Some genius decided to take the old health club and turn it into a gamer’s paradise. Dance games, laser tag, simulators. The controllers are built right into the exercise equipment. The longer you go, the more weapons you get. The faster you go, the more speed or power. Builds endurance and strength. The idea is to make exercising a blast. Great concept. Wish I’d invented it. I’d be rich.”
Okay, Small Talk initiated. Good start. But I needed to get him pontificating on the pros and cons of hanging out with Knights. Mason continued to stare at me, an odd expression on his face. I hated awkward, and this situation was the epitome of it. I stared at the table, then the ceiling, wondering how to lead the conversation in the right direction. At one point, I made eye contact with Mason, but quickly looked away. I tried to focus on the music, or the beeping of the arcade, but the discomfort wouldn’t leave. I needed my mask. I needed a hole to fall into. Suddenly Mason laughed. He was obviously enjoying this.
“What?” I asked, a bit more harshly than I intended.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that…well, I never thought I’d be this nervous around you.”
I gave him a ‘huh?’ look.
“I don’t have to make fun of you to get you to notice me. You came on your own. I’m in uncharted territory.”
“You pick on me to get my attention?”
Mason nodded. “So what do you want to know?”
Jerk. Where do I start? Do you know a Knight? What’s he looking for at school? Is it true that the Class Project is turning out Psychedone 10? “Oh, I’m just curious. I mean, I’ve been in Dr. Miliron’s chemistry class all semester, but he hasn’t mentioned the Class Project yet.”
Mason folded his hands and leaned toward me. “He’ll only schedule one lab to do the Class Project. He wants to show each class what it’s all about, and then whoever is interested can continue after school for extra credit. I’m the lab assistant. I keep the reflux condensers running until they’re reacted and ready to go. It’s a great program, Rinnie.”
Yeah, great if you agree to do Mason’s bidding. Otherwise, face the wrath. “Why is it so important to you? I mean, you are a little obsessed, don’t you think?”
He called me Rinnie. Why did he call me Rinnie?
Mason looked off into some distant horizon that I couldn’t see. “I’ve been studying mental illness, sort of as a hobby, since I was pretty little. Some types are curable. Others…well, it’s a fascinating science. Dr. Miliron told me about this project that the mental hospital at Old Torrents sponsored. He said we would contribute to medical research and raise public awareness of a disease that affects millions of people. He convinced me to help, and here we are today. It really didn’t take much. Old Torrents is cutting edge. They’ve been testing different versions of a new miracle drug, and have had a lot of success fighting mental illness. I’m going to get my doctorate. I’ll cure it.” A pained expression flashed across his face. “You asked why this is important. My mom had problems. I want to help people like her.”
“I heard she lives in Old Torrents.” As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn’t.
Mason smiled, but I could tell he forced it. “That’s the rumor, isn’t it?” His eyes became moist, and he glanced away.
I was officially ashamed of myself. Mason was totally a jerk, but even he didn’t deserve to be reminded about his mother. I knew she was dead, but I couldn’t blow my cover. Should have just kept my mouth shut. “Mason, I’m sorry, I should have never brought that up.”
“It’s okay. Hey, tell me about you. What do you do with your spare time?”
The least I could do was allow him to change the subject. Maybe it would lead somewhere useful. “Me? Not much. Do homework. Hang out with Kathryn.”
“I don’t think she likes me.”
“You beat up her boyfriend. What do you expect?”
“No, I really like Bobby.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“He just frustrates me sometimes. He’s brilliant. I
really wish he’d help with the Class Project.”
Crud. Mason was as annoying as ever, but I was learning nothing. I needed to get into his head. Andy was right, I couldn’t risk scanning him. My only option was to keep him talking. Maybe he’d slip and reveal something. I wasn’t sure why Andy thought I could pull this off, because the Adam and Eve thing totally wasn’t working for me. Maybe if I’d worn fig leaves.
I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder. “What’s that door labeled SSA?”
Mason sighed. “Tammy Angel’s dad fronted the money to build this arcade. She talked him into building a back room just for her. It’s called the Star Ship Angel. Members only.”
“How do you get to be a member?”
“Invitation only.”
Like the Psi Fighters. Go figure. “And who does the inviting?” As if I didn’t know.
“Angel, naturally. She rules the cool, right?”
“Right. What goes on behind the door?”
“Nothing much. Mostly storage. Angel sits at that table outside the SSA door selling her wares.”
Ha! Now we were getting somewhere. School wasn’t the only place Angel pushed drugs. “Wares?” I said, in my dumbest blond accent. “You mean like Tupperware?”
Mason shook his head. “No, she’s into health food. Powders, natural herbs, other stuff that tastes like crap. Her dad owns Nature’s Nutrients. It’s a health food supplement processor in town.”
Wait, did he mean… “She actually sells supplements? All natural nutrients?” Then Angel was telling the truth in the locker room. She had threatened Erica with an improved diet? That meant Tammy was just a twisted, health-conscious bully, not a Psychedone 10 pusher.
Of course, that’s what a lying, corrupt friend of a Knight would want me to believe, wasn’t it?
“Yeah, if you think I’m obsessed with the Class Project, Angel is way overboard with being healthy. She even tries to get Dr. Captious into the machines when he’s here.”
“I heard he hung out here with you.”
“Yeah, the Capster’s awesome. We have an arrangement. I let him know what goes on in the school. Who’s into what. Dr. Captious is sort of a counselor.” Mason pointed to the wall. “See those posters for workshops on Self-Esteem and the Golden Rule and all that? He teaches them.”
“I thought he was a math teacher.”
Mason nodded. “He has two doctorates. The other one is in psychology. He helps kids sort out their lives. I talk to him all the time. Helps me think through problems.”
“What sort of problems could you possibly have, Mason? Your dad’s the mayor. It’s a well-known fact that you can get away with anything. You harass kids, treat teachers like dirt—must be nice.”
“Not really. I don’t see my dad much. He’s always working. And when he’s home, he’s always preoccupied. He’s really into his political career. Not so much into his son.” Mason lowered his eyes. “That’s why I hang out here. At least there’s somebody to talk to. Somebody to eat dinner with.”
If I’d had a Spider Sense, it would have been tingling all over. What normal boy would give somebody like me this type of personal information? Mason was trying to suck me in. I decided to play along to see where he was going with this. “You have dinner here? With who?”
Mason looked at me with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “Whoever.”
Did he mean… “You eat alone? Every night?”
“The food’s good.”
Aww. His mother was gone, his father ignored him…at least I got to have supper with my family every evening before I went to the Academy. I had Mom and Dad and Susie. I had Kathryn. I even had Andy. Mason didn’t have anybody. Suddenly, no matter how badly I wanted to, I couldn’t hate him.
New tactic. Can the mission. “What’s on the menu? I’m kind of hungry. I mean, if you are.”
Mason’s face lit up like a new sunrise. “I am.”
After we dined on the best pizza I had ever had, I said good night to Mason. I had learned absolutely nothing useful for my mission. I was still certain that Tammy Angel was the criminal I had suspected her to be. But I saw a totally different side of Mason—sweet, caring, and lonely. He didn’t say much during dinner. He just seemed content. Maybe a ruse, but it was also possible that he was not the total creep I thought he was.
That didn’t mean he wasn’t my main connection to Scallion, though.
Chapter Eleven
Dalrymple
Monday morning, the noise in the auditorium rose to such a crescendo I couldn’t hear myself think. We were in lockdown, and the police dogs had been brought in. Last time this happened, everyone knew about it an hour before the dogs arrived. Somebody had tipped the users, and the evidence had been flushed. Probably the same story this time. According to the Kilodan, the dealers had insiders with the police. Which explained why nobody seemed worried. Basically all the students were just thrilled at the chance to get out of regular classes to attend the special assembly. I had been as well, until I saw Mason climb the balcony stairs with the Red Team in tow. He was as cocky as ever. The Mason I had pizza with Friday evening was nowhere to be seen. Which I unfortunately expected.
Over the weekend, after I debriefed Andy about my date with Mason (I use that term in the loosest possible sense, because it was totally not a date, it was a critical mission), he had given me maps of the school. Ductwork and hidden corridors that only the Psi Fighters knew about crisscrossed the building like a labyrinth. Most of them were big enough to crawl through. It had never dawned on me before, but a whole other world existed inside the walls and ceilings.
Secret passageways appealed to my overactive curiosity gene. But the dust and gaggle of spiders I’d likely encounter in said secret passageways seriously pegged my yuckometer. All the same, I’d soon be sneaking through them. Surveillance had become my new priority. Friday didn’t turn up anything useful, and I still needed to find out everything I could about Mason: where he hung out, who he was with, what he was up to. Fortunately, this was easy during assembly. He hung out in the balcony, with the Red Team, up to no good.
“Stu-DENTS,” Mrs. Bagley’s voice crackled over the microphone. “Last week, I brought in the police to help improve conditions at your school. Then tragedy struck, and we lost a great man. I believe that few of you realize what this means. I believe that fewer of you care. I pray one day you will understand, because you are all in terrible danger. Today, the Greensburg Police have sent us Police Chief Munificent’s successor. He has a message for you. A message of hope. So without further ado, I give you Police Chief Dalrymple.” She backed away from the microphone, clapping her hands. No one else clapped. So I did. Seeing the old Mason back had left me a tad crabby, and I wasn’t in the mood for rudeness.
Some guy in full dress uniform crossed the stage to the microphone, marching like he was in a military procession. His shoulders and chest were covered in medals and badges, and he shook hands with Mrs. Bagley before facing the podium. He removed his hat, exposing a very high hairline and spiky orange hair.
“Chicken,” Kathryn said, making me smile a little.
“Thank you for the kind applause from the two of you who bothered to welcome me. My name is Maximilian Dalrymple, and I have come to deliver a very important message. But first, a moment of silence.” He placed his hat over his heart, and bowed his head.
After an uncomfortable yet surprisingly silent thirty seconds, he looked up while he put his hat back on. “I’d like to say a few words about Police Chief Amos Munificent. He started a program in this school that I intend to finish. Some of you knew him. He was a kind man, loyal to the city of Greensburg in a way that few men are capable of. There are rumors that he was soft, though, and let things get out of hand in our fair city. I am here, first and foremost, to squelch those rumors. Chief Munificent worked diligently, and did all his capabilities allowed him to do, to stop the drugs and violence we find ourselves forced to endure. If there was any failing, it was not one of effort. Chief Muni
ficent, indeed all of us, find ourselves faced with an enemy who is bigger than any one of us.”
“What is he talking about?” Kathryn whispered.
“No idea,” I lied.
“Give me a Whopper with cheese, Ronald,” Mason shouted, and laughter filled the auditorium.
Yep, back to normal. My irritationometer clicked up a notch. Any points Mason may have gained Friday night had just gone poof.
Police Chief Dalrymple smiled and leaned close to the microphone. “Your simple-minded insults only prove my point, Mr. Draudimon,” he said in a deep voice. The auditorium grew silent. “You don’t even know your fast food facts, while I know everything about you, so be on your guard.”
“I like this guy,” I whispered.
“My next words are for the predators in this school,” the chief said quietly. “If you continue on the path you are traveling, you will fall into the trap of drugs, crime, and death. I can’t help you if you choose to be so stupid. However, I will not let you drag even one member of this fine student body down with you. You know who you are. And so, by the way, do I.”
“Dude’s intense,” Kathryn whispered.
“I am here to declare war!” Dalrymple shouted. Feedback from the speakers echoed through the auditorium and we all jumped. “An all-out War on Drugs. And I will be taking prisoners. You, the fine students of Greensburg High School, have endured the business long enough. The good people of Greensburg have endured the business long enough. It is time to put an end to the business, and you have my word that I will put an end to the business.” Dalrymple threw his hands high in the air as though everyone had given him a standing ovation.
The silence in the auditorium hummed in my ears. Dr. Captious began to clap, smirking while his hands slapped a leisurely rhythm. Dr. Miliron joined him, then everyone in the front rows applauded and cheered.
“To show you just how serious I am,” Dalrymple bellowed into the microphone over the applause, “my agents and I have prepared a little demonstration for you.” He turned to the left side of the stage and shouted, “Bring ’em out!”
Psi Another Day (Psi Fighter Academy) Page 11