“Yes,” he whispers. “I got them all back. I should be able to upload the test surveillance footage tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Jane Ann asks. This is clearly not the answer she wants.
“Tonight?” offers Tomatoes. Peaches quakes beside him, eyes downcast.
“You have one job,” Jane Ann says, with a grimace. “That is to spy on our visitors.” She leans in close to Tomatoes, who recoils, spilling his bag of drone butterflies all over the floor. Peaches’s eyes are as wide as saucers. Mine are, too. They are using drone insects to help the Briar teams cheat?
I’m sorry, but that is taking the school-spirit thing just a little too far. Jane Ann loves Briar, but I had no idea the lengths to which she would go to make sure her teams win. “I need to know you and your stupid butterflies are capable if this is going to work. Get me the footage.”
Tomatoes nods vigorously.
“And shut the door when you leave,” she snaps. “You two are about as responsible as a bunch of cats.” And that’s the end of Jane Ann. Peaches drops to his knees, collecting drone butterflies while Tomatoes catches his breath.
“Dude,” Tomatoes says. “Tell me again why we’re doing this for her?”
“Dude,” Peaches replies. “For the butterflies. We couldn’t build them without her. No Jane Ann, no resources. And the butterflies are pretty cool, right? They actually work.”
“They are pretty cool,” Tomatoes says, visibly relaxing.
“I’m amazed by us.”
“Me too.”
“But we better get out of here and download that footage before Jane Ann has us exiled to Siberia, you know?”
Peaches scoops the last of their precious insects off the floor, and they are gone. But just as I’m about to follow them out of the kitchen, I notice a single butterfly, left behind. Maybe Toby can hack it and access the footage, see who they’ve been spying on. Scurrying into the pantry, I scoop it up, but when I hear footsteps in the hallway, I have no choice but to fling myself behind a tower of flour. Did they realize they are missing a butterfly?
No. They are back to shut the door.
Chapter 10
Trapped. With Cupcakes.
OH, NO.
I leap to my feet and push on the heavy door, but it doesn’t budge. I am locked in the pantry. On the bright side, at least I won’t starve to death. I settle in against a bunch of rice sacks to think. But all I can think is I really need to get out of here and tell my friends about the cheating. And we have to bring this information to Baldy. He’s not going to like it, but a cheating scandal involving his precious school would be worse. I pull on the door a few more times, but it’s a lost cause. Toby will kill me if this makes me late for the first Challenge task. Seriously. This is a disaster. Why don’t I take the time to plan things out? Why do I just act on instinct? I’d kick myself if I knew how.
But rather than collapse in despair, I comb the pantry for something to take my mind off my woes. Two trays of pink cupcakes, complete with beautiful frosting flowers, fit the bill. By the time the first worker shows up at four o’clock in the morning to start breakfast prep, I’ve had one nap and six cupcakes.
Not exactly the best way to go into the first Challenge task. To make matters worse, I can’t get back into the dorm until the doors unlock at six a.m. I spend two long hours on a bench regretting the cupcakes and many of the other decisions I’ve made in the last twenty-four hours. When I finally bump into Charlotte in the dorm hallway, I don’t look lovely.
“What happened to you?” she asks. “And why do you smell so . . . floral, like fabric softener?”
“Don’t ask,” I mutter, nudging her aside and heading toward my room. I want a hot shower in my fancy bathroom. Otherwise, I might keel over. But Charlotte trails along behind me, sensing a story. I must look worse than I thought.
My smelly clothing in a heap, I stand under water as hot as I can bear. Charlotte sits on the closed toilet.
“Lavender,” she says.
“Huh?”
“That’s what I smell. Clouds of it. Start talking.”
Even the shower is not a refuge. I pull open the door and stick my head out. “I went down the laundry chute.”
“You did not.” I slam the door shut in response. “You did! Why?”
“I needed to get out, and the windows are alarmed in this stupid place. Who alarms their windows? We’re in the middle of nowhere!” I tell her about the butterfly in my hair and Peaches and Tomatoes and Jane Ann version 2.0 and the cheating. Something is rotten at Briar, despite its shiny veneer.
“Drone butterflies?” Charlotte asks. “For real?”
“A whole bag full. Hand me a towel.” She tosses one over the top of the shower and I wrap myself up. I have to get rid of my clothes because even the whiff of lavender is making me gag. Lavender-aphobia. Is that a thing? I might have just invented it.
Izumi rolls into my room, yawning and stretching her arms, as Charlotte examines the butterfly. “What’s that?” Izumi asks, collapsing on my bed.
“Oh, no big deal,” Charlotte says casually. “Just a killer drone butterfly that Jane Ann is using to cheat in the Challenge.”
This goes over exactly as expected. Izumi sits bolt upright. “What does that mean?”
I repeat the whole story, with Charlotte adding details for emphasis and drama. Izumi is impressed by my cupcake consumption. “Did you bring us any?”
“This is not about cupcakes,” I snap.
“Touchy,” says Izumi.
“Obviously, they plan to deploy their butterfly army this morning, when the Challenge task begins,” Charlotte says. “Buzz into the rooms where teams are working and steal the best ideas.”
“This is awful,” Izumi says. “Gemma and Emma would be so disappointed.”
“Good thing they’re dead,” Charlotte replies.
“Who do we report this to?” asks Izumi.
“Baldy,” I say. “He’s going to be sad.”
“If he even believes you,” Izumi says.
“You don’t think he’ll think I’m making it up, do you?”
Charlotte shrugs. “I kind of agree with Izumi. He’s obsessed with being perfect. He’s not going to like this development.”
“So what do we do?”
“Evidence,” Izumi replies. “We need that video footage to prove what Jane Ann is doing.”
In short, we need Toby.
We find him at breakfast, fresh-faced and ready to crush the Challenge. “What’s wrong with her?” he asks, pointing at me.
“I’m just hungry,” I say quickly.
“She had a long night,” adds Charlotte. She relays the details of my adventure to Toby as I stuff my face with fresh scrambled eggs and buttery croissants—real food to compensate for the cupcakes. Charlotte does a much better job with the story than I do. Toby is on the edge of his seat, mouth hanging open, coffee mug tilting precariously in his hand.
“Drone butterflies?” he whispers. “To cheat?” I pull the evidence out of my pocket and slide it across the table. Toby picks it up and gazes at it with awe.
“Brilliant,” he whispers.
“Can you figure out where they are uploading the footage?” I ask. “So we can get it?” As the words tumble out, I spray my friends with bits of yellow egg.
Toby wipes it from his sleeve. “Gross.”
“Sorry,” I say. “The footage?”
“I can probably figure out where it’s streaming to,” he says.
But it’s going to have to wait until later. The Challenge is about to begin. Briar crackles with excitement. The day promises to be another hot one as hundreds of students move like a mob to the theater, with lots of laughing and screaming.
Back in the auditorium, I try not to stare at Jane Ann, but it’s no longer about her hair. Baldy steps up to the microphone, sweating profusely. He removes his reading glasses and wipes them on his shirt. This just makes things worse. His lips squeeze into a tight little line.
“Good morning, competitors,” he says, tucking the useless glasses into one of his cargo pockets. “And welcome to the first day of the Challenge! Emma and Gemma Glass believed young people like yourselves could fix the world.”
“I bet they never considered drone butterflies,” Izumi whispers.
“And the world needs fixing,” Baldy continues. “Now more than ever, your creativity and problem-solving skills are what it will take to right the wrongs, repair what is broken, and hand the next generation a better place to live.” He pauses dramatically to let that sink in. The kid to my right yawns so widely I can see his dental work. Come on, Baldy. Cut to the chase already. It’s hot in here!
“Water,” Baldy says. Is he dehydrated? Is he going to faint? Should we call someone?
No. Turns out Toby is right, and water is this year’s theme. Baldy holds up a clear plastic bottle half-full and shakes it. “Almost one billion people around the globe don’t have access to this basic need that we take for granted. This year’s Challenge tasks will focus on how we can get clean water to those billion people. You will need to be creative. You will need to think outside the box. Remember, the judges want to be dazzled. Now, for the task number one details. Please pay attention.”
It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone has collectively stopped breathing.
“Challenge task one is about creative engineering, about taking the ordinary and making it extraordinary.” Toby and Izumi lean forward, eyes shining. They like the idea of creative engineering. “Each team will be given a cardboard box of items that can be found anywhere in the world. The boxes are the same and contain simple things, like duct tape and soda cans, screens and screwdrivers. Your task is to create something, a device or method, that can clean contaminated water.”
I glance around at the surrounding teams, already plotting how to tunnel five miles into the earth and tap a geyser of pure fresh beautiful water, using nothing more than a pipe cleaner and a discarded T-shirt.
“A water purifier,” Toby whispers reverently.
“Yeah,” Izumi says with a sigh.
Charlotte stares at them. “You guys are made for this,” she says.
Here’s how it works. Teams are assigned to different buildings on campus and given that cardboard box of junk. Twenty-four hours later, bring the dazzle or get killed on points. The Challenge judges don’t care if you eat or sleep during that twenty-four hours. They don’t care if you dance a jig or brush your teeth. Dazzle is the name of the game.
Chapter 11
Smarts.
BALDY READS OUT BUILDING ASSIGNMENTS. We’re in the engineering library, along with two other teams, and Team OP is in the main library. Entering the engineering library, we trade false smiles and insincere “good lucks” with the other teams and peel away to our assigned room on the third floor. Inside is a large box atop a long table, surrounded by a few chairs. Sun beats through the large uncovered windows.
“Ready?” Toby asks, clutching the box. We nod. He dumps the supplies onto the table. There is duct tape, wire, several pairs of pliers, squares of screen, tiny bits of unidentifiable metal, hunks of hard clear plastic in different shapes, cotton balls, Q-tips, and more. But where I see a pile of junk, my friends see possibilities.
“I have a great idea!” Izumi cries.
“Me too!” Toby yells.
“So many possibilities!” Izumi shifts through the materials. “If we take the screen and the soda can . . . ,” she begins.
“And we use the cotton . . . ,” Toby adds.
“With the metal spring . . .”
“Brilliant! Yes! And then the pliers . . .”
“Why didn’t I think of that? Of course. With the plastic!” Izumi glances at us as if just realizing we’re in the room. “What do you guys think?”
Charlotte’s eyebrows zoom up to her hairline. “I think we think whatever you think,” she says. I nod vigorously in agreement.
While Toby and Izumi argue their way toward a prototype design that is likely to save the most lives in the real world and therefore bring the dazzle, Charlotte watches them like a spectator at a tennis match.
At midnight, all the teams continue to work with feverish determination. I keep a vigil for evil butterflies, but none appear. Our work space is littered with empty soda cans and candy wrappers. A cafeteria tray laden with dirty dishes sits in a corner. Toby’s eyes pinwheel in his head. He scoffs at the suggestion of a nap.
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” he says. And I know better than to urge him to take a break and bring me some butterfly evidence. I hate the fact that Jane Ann is going to swing this contest in favor of her beloved Briar before anyone can stop her, but getting in Toby’s way right now is a bad idea.
While Toby and Izumi do most of the serious project work, they delegate the boring tasks to us. Right now, I’m soldering two coils of wire together into a precise U shape. I have no idea what for, and when I ask, they yell at me to get back to work.
When it becomes clear we are staying up all night, Charlotte and I decamp to the dining hall, open twenty-four seven during the Challenge, to get strawberry cheesecake, because everyone knows an all-nighter needs cheesecake. Izumi and Toby don’t even look up. Outside, the night has turned sultry, the air thick with humidity. Lights glow in the buildings where teams work diligently on their projects. It’s quiet outside. Every kid who is not participating in the Challenge is long asleep. The path to the dining hall is all but deserted, which is why we notice Jane Ann in the first place.
Head down, she walks quickly, throwing furtive glances over her shoulder. Charlotte nudges me. “Hey. Look who it is. Cyborg girl. Maybe she is up to more no good?” We pause in a shadow, unseen, and watch her for a moment.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I whisper.
“Probably,” responds Charlotte. The cheesecake all but forgotten, we wait about thirty seconds before setting off after Jane Ann. Who knows when Toby gets to the butterfly, but maybe Jane Ann leads us to different evidence of her cheating ways right now. She loops around the engineering library, past the arts building, and right up to the door of one of the boys’ dormitories.
“Should we feel bad we left Toby and Izumi?” I ask.
“Honestly, I’m not sure they even knew we were there.” That sounds reasonable. We creep forward for a better view as Jane Ann marches up to the building door and strides right in as if she belongs. Which she doesn’t. No girls in the boys’ dorm and no boys in the girls’ dorm is a boarding school gold standard rule, but it apparently doesn’t apply to Jane Ann. And her key card. Glancing at each other, we run right after her.
“And I was worried the Challenge wouldn’t be fun,” Charlotte whispers as we slip through the door, just before it closes, and in time to see Jane Ann disappear around a corner. We follow, creeping through the dark empty hallway like burglars, clinging to the shadows. When she knocks on the door for room twenty-seven, a disheveled Tomatoes answers the door. His eyes fly open in alarm.
“What time is it?” he asks.
“Time for you to stop being a screwup,” Jane Ann hisses, waving a flash drive in his face.
“But the footage is great,” Tomatoes protests. “The butterflies did their job.”
“I specifically asked for the Smith School team,” she says. “So where is the footage?” At the mention of Smith, Charlotte squeezes my thigh so hard, I almost scream. What’s so special about Team OP anyway?
“It’s in there,” Tomatoes replies meekly.
“There are two minutes of them discussing the dining hall milkshakes!” Jane Ann is about to blow. She’s about to wake up about one hundred sleeping boys, but she doesn’t care.
“The milkshakes are really good,” whispers Tomatoes. Oh, Tomatoes, that was the wrong answer!
“Do you want to keep your butterflies?” Jane Ann hisses. “Do you want me to turn you in for cheating?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You don’t think?”
>
Tomatoes recoils. “I’m . . . I’m sorry . . . I can redeploy the butterflies . . . get the info on Smith that you want. I swear.”
“Last chance,” Jane Ann says, grimly. “Do it now. Don’t fail me again.” She leaves a breathless Tomatoes behind.
“Boy, she is taking this school spirit thing way too far,” he mutters, collecting himself. Charlotte elbows me in the ribs.
“Just how far is she willing to go in the name of Briar?” she whispers. If I had to guess, I’d say all the way.
Back in the engineering library, Izumi asks us if we went somewhere. They didn’t even notice we were gone! Toby says they are in the zone and have to take advantage of it while it lasts.
“It’s like we are laser focused,” he says. The project, a cheap and accessible way to filter water, comes together on the table. It looks like the cardboard box barfed out its contents and Toby and Izumi wrapped it all up in duct tape. But I know better than to say this aloud.
“We, ah, discovered something,” I say casually, circling the table.
“Jane Ann is out for Team OP,” Charlotte says. Without pause, she launches into the details of our infiltration of the boys’ dormitory. Izumi and Toby fall out of the zone with a thud.
“I guess she thinks they are the ones to beat,” Izumi offers.
“I’m insulted,” Toby says.
“We’ll tell Baldy first thing in the morning,” I say. “Even without evidence.” My team nods in agreement. But for now, it’s back to work.
Time to bring the dazzle.
Chapter 12
Winning Isn’t Everything.
THE CHALLENGE JUDGING IS HELD in a sweeping multipurpose room. The air is pungent with the stink of unbrushed teeth. Contagious yawns tear through the crowd like the Great Plague of London. At assigned tables, teams unpack cardboard boxes and set up projects. None of them are going to win any awards for beauty, including ours. But beauty is not the point. Function is.
I do a lap around the room, trying to find Baldy, but he is nowhere to be found, which is strange considering the Challenge seems to be the highlight of his life. The few people I ask shrug their shoulders. No idea. But it will have to wait. The judges have entered the great room.
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