by Robin Caroll
“Your dad is on the case?” Felicia sounded surprised.
Maybe she didn’t know and she really came to Sam for advice. “So I hear, although I haven’t talked to Dad since before school.”
“But if he is, you can explain it to him?”
If Sam could help a friend, she would. Talk about loving her neighbor. “No, but you can. Dad and Detective Roscoe, his partner, both will listen to the truth.”
“I’m scared. My mom will just react, especially with the police being there.”
“Nothing to be scared of. Dad will hear you out, just like I did.”
“Will . . . Will you come with me? To the meeting, I mean?”
Sam shook her head. Sure, she wanted the story, but she didn’t want to get in the middle of something like this. Dad would not be pleased. He wouldn’t appreciate her butting in.
Felicia spoke faster. “Please? I’ll do all the talking. It’ll just make me feel better having you there. And it’ll show my mom that I’m not just a trouble-maker, but that I’m trying. I mean, I’m making friends here and everything and I’m making good grades, but she might think I’m not and I’m trying to change them and —”
“What do you know about creating a computer virus?” Sam interrupted.
Felicia frowned. “A computer virus? Nothing. Why? What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Are you good with computers? Writing HTML code? Running systems? Any type of programming?” Sam pushed. She, herself, wasn’t as good as Makayla, but she knew enough to ask the right questions.
“Not really. Why?”
“No reason.” She patted Felicia’s arm. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Sam, I don’t understand.”
The bell rang, signaling the end of second lunch period.
“Just tell the truth and you’ll be fine.” Sam stood.
“Please go to the meeting with me, Sam. I’m begging you.”
Sam stared into Felicia’s face. Her eyes. Every little bit of her expression screamed her fear.
“Pretty please? It’d mean the world to me, do-gooder.”
How was saying no being loving to her neighbor? “Okay. I’ll go with you as a show of support.”
“Thank you.” Felicia gave her a hug, but she broke away faster than fast, glancing around. “Okay, I’ll see you in last period.” She turned and rushed off.
“What was that all about?” Makayla asked, coming up to link her arm through Sam’s as they headed to their lockers.
“A big ole mess.” She quickly told Makayla about her talk with Felicia because, hey, Felicia hadn’t said she couldn’t say anything, right?
“Wow. Wish I could be there for that meeting.” Makayla shut her locker.
“Maybe you can. I’m sure Dad would drive you home.”
Makayla shook her head. “Can’t. It’s Tuesday. Karate practice, remember?”
Getting back into the regular routine after the holidays was tough. Sam nodded. “Call me when you get home.” She turned and ran toward her class.
As Sam took her seat and pulled out her notebook, she had a hard time concentrating. She needed to figure out who was behind the grade tampering and fast, before Felicia took the blame for it. Everyone was looking for the person responsible, and the principal and district would want the situation resolved soon. With Felicia’s past, it’d be easy to pin the blame on her and let her take the fall.
Way too easy.
CHAPTER FIVE
It’s going to be fine. Remember that. Just tell the truth,” Sam told Felicia as they made their way to the office after school.
The heat hit them as they entered the office, right at the entrance of the school.
Mrs. Darrington, the school secretary, looked up as they entered. “Oh. Felicia. Mrs. Trees is waiting for your mother to arrive.” She glanced at Sam and narrowed her eyes. “Are you supposed to be here?”
“Is my dad here yet?” Sam evaded the question.
“He’ll be here soon. I didn’t realize you were going to be in their meeting. You girls go ahead and have a seat on the bench outside Mrs. Trees’ office.”
“She really despises me,” Felicia whispered as they huddled down the hall to the bench. “I don’t think she has a good side.”
Sam silently agreed. Her palms were a little sweaty, and it didn’t have anything to do with the smothering heat blowing in the office. What was Dad going to say when he saw her? He’d be upset, to say the least. He’d tell her all about how she shouldn’t get into everybody else’s business. This time was different, though. Felicia had begged her to come. She licked her lips, trying to think of what she would tell him.
They rounded the corner of the hallway by the principal’s office, and Sam stopped suddenly. Her heart skipped a beat.
“Hey, Sam. What’re you doing here?” Luke Jensen asked, flashing her an almost automatic smile before he grimaced, as if remembering where they were.
Sam’s mouth wouldn’t form any words. There was something about Luke . . . he had the deepest dimples that should have to be registered because they were so deadly cute.
A minute passed with Sam just standing and staring. Then another.
Felicia dropped onto the bench and pulled Sam down to sit next to Luke. “She’s here for moral support for me.” She tossed Sam a look that clearly asked are-you-stupid-or-what? “What are you doing here?” Felicia asked Luke.
Luke’s face turned red.
“Mrs. Trees called me in. And she called my dad. He’ll be here any minute, and I bet he won’t be happy.”
“Why?” Sam choked out, still a little tongue-tied.
“Mr. Emmitt told Mrs. Trees I might have had something to do with the report cards being messed up.” Luke’s annoyance was plain on his face.
“Why would he say that?” Felicia asked.
“We had to turn in our science project plan a few weeks ago, right?”
Sam nodded.
“Well, mine is based on the creation of a numeric-altering computer algorithm.” He leaned back against the bench, stretching his long legs out into the hallway.
To Sam, he still looked annoyed. Maybe he was worried that his dad and Mrs. Trees would blame him without hearing him out. That would make her concerned, for sure.
“I’m sorry, I’m not following how that has anything to do with the grades getting changed,” Felicia said, her brows bunching together.
“Apparently such an algorithm, or one like it, could be used to create major problems in a grading system. Like what’s happened with our report card problem.”
Sam’s reporter instincts overrode the frustrating effects of Luke, and she morphed into total investigation mode. “Is that what you intended? With your project, I mean?”
He shook his head. “Not even close.”
“Then what was your science project all about?”
“Well —”
“Sam, what are you doing here?”
She stood and smiled, wiping her palms on her jeans. “Hi, Dad. Hi, Detective Roscoe.”
“Hey, Sam. How goes it?” Detective Roscoe asked, his smile bright against his smooth, dark skin.
“Again, Sam, what are you doing here?” Dad asked in his “detective dad” voice.
“Felicia.” A woman, probably a little older than Sam’s mom, joined them. “What’s going on?”
“Hi, Mom.” Felicia’s voice was weaker than Sam had ever heard it, and she looked downright terrified.
Mrs. Trees opened her office door. “Mrs. Adams?”
Felicia’s mom nodded.
“Come in and have a seat.” Mrs. Trees stepped aside to let Felicia’s mother enter. “Felicia.” She turned to Sam’s dad. “Detectives Sanderson and Roscoe.” She waved them inside.
Sam didn’t know what to do, but Felicia circled back to grab Sam’s arm and pull her into the office with them. Felicia took a seat beside her mother, wearing a look of pure panic. Dad leaned against the wall, his eyebrows raised. For a moment,
Sam faltered. Annoying Dad was never a good option. But she’d told Felicia she’d be there, and in light of her resolution to love her neighbor, she didn’t really feel guilty. A gray-haired man wearing a dark suit and blue tie — a man Sam had never seen before — sat beside Mrs. Trees’ desk, which was covered with papers, pink phone messages, and one of those cool USB drives that look like a real key. This one had a picture of a zebra head on it.
“Samantha, you aren’t needed,” Mrs. Trees said, frowning.
“I asked her to come, Mrs. Trees,” Felicia offered, her voice barely over a whisper.
“I don’t think you understand, Felicia,” Mrs. Trees began. “This isn’t a discussion you can feel free to invite people to attend. This is my meeting, and I decide who will be present.” She looked over at Sam. “Go out in the waiting room and shut the door behind you.” She glanced at Sam’s dad, then looked at Sam again. “Please.”
Felicia’s face went white.
Sam took a deep breath and looked at her father.
“Have a seat outside, Sam.” His tone was light, but she recognized it well. He wouldn’t tolerate further discussion. So much for not feeling guilty, but they just don’t understand.
She mouthed, “I’m sorry” to Felicia, and stepped back into the hall, shutting the door behind her.
“What’s going on?” Luke asked.
Sam sat back on the bench beside him and let out a long breath. “Mrs. Trees called Felicia and her mom to a meeting just like she did with you and your dad.”
“So I’m not the only one they think might have had something to do with the grade changes?” Hope made him look even cuter, if that was possible.
If he was hopeful that someone else was responsible, didn’t that mean beyond a doubt that he wasn’t involved? Surely he wouldn’t be happy someone else would get blamed?
She cleared her throat and stared at the closed office door. “Apparently there are at least a couple of suspects.”
“Your dad’s the cop investigating it?”
She let out another long breath. “So it seems.”
An awkward silence followed. Sam wanted to ask him questions about his science fair project, but whenever she looked at him, it was as if she was either mute or incapable of forming complete sentences.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked.
She looked up quickly and nodded.
“You can’t tell anyone. I mean, not even your dad.”
Sam looked into his eyes and nodded again. It didn’t matter what he said, his eyes were mesmerizing. They were big and —
“I don’t even know what the science project is about. Seriously.”
“W-What?” Sam gave her head a little shake. Maybe she’d misunderstood him.
“It wasn’t even my idea. My older brother helped me with the project so I could bring my C up to a B and my dad would stop threatening to pull me out of sports.”
Sam tried to force her brain to focus on his words, but she still didn’t understand. “I’m not following you.”
“My dad is always harping on me to keep at least a three-point-oh average. He says that if I drop below that, he’ll pull me out of all my sports.”
“I get that. My dad always says that if my grades fall, I will have to give up extracurricular stuff to concentrate on my studies.”
“Man, do parents get some sort of manual that tells them this stuff?”
Sam grinned. “Probably.”
“Anyway, my brother goes to Mills High School and helped me with it because he’s tired of hearing dad harp on me all the time. Besides, he says I’m a good defensive lineman and Robinson High’s football team needs me.”
That was a year and a half away, so Sam moved on. “So what does the project do?”
“That’s what I’m saying . . . I don’t even really know.”
“What? How can you not know what your project does?”
“Mark’s in the scholar program at Mills and he’s into computer programming and all that. Part of the project was based on being able to take figures and averages of sporting numbers and run a program that would figure probabilities and possibilities.”
Sam shook her head. “So what does that have to do with changing grades?”
“It doesn’t, but Mr. Emmitt says that the coding I proposed could be used to get into a system like a grading system and change percentages of grades.”
“That’s crazy to even think that.”
“Yeah, I think so too, but he told Mrs. Trees that he was suspicious of me because my project plan was, get this, a bit above Luke’s usual level of work. Can you believe that? I mean, is he calling me stupid, but in a polite way or what?”
Harsh.
Luke shook his head, looking disgusted. “And the worst part is I can’t even really explain it since Mark was the one who actually did the work. I mean, he quickly showed me how, but I don’t remember any of that stuff. It doesn’t stick so well for me.” He gave a small smile but returned to his thoughts. “I can’t tell them that, though. Not with my dad there. He’ll really yank me out of sports and probably the paper too.”
Sam leaned toward him, struggling to keep her voice low even though she was excited. “You have to tell them, Luke. Otherwise you’re a suspect.”
“I can’t. My dad will totally freak. And it wouldn’t just be me. It’d get Mark in hot water with Dad too.”
Man, this was truly a tough one. “There has to be some way.”
“As soon as I go in there and they start asking me about the project, they’re going to realize real fast that I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“Maybe they’ll realize how absurd it is that they think you’re the culprit.”
Luke shook his head again. “They’ll probably think I’m hiding something and really blame me.” He ran his hands through his hair. “There’s no way out of this one.”
A thought occurred to Sam. “Did Mark realize the program he helped you propose could be used like this? I mean, after he heard about the report cards?”
“Nope. He laughed it off last night when we talked about it at dinner, even saying he was glad his school didn’t have any problems since he made straight As on his report card and didn’t want that messed up.”
“Is the program done? Finished, I mean?”
Luke grunted. “The preliminary part has already been turned in, but the actual project isn’t finished just yet. Mark’s been studying for his semester exams.”
“Luke?” a big, burly man lumbered down the hallway.
“Hi, Dad.” Luke’s tone was apprehensive.
Sam could see why. Luke’s dad had to be over six feet tall, and his shoulders were as wide as an Arkansas Razorback’s front lineman. He was intimidating, to say the least.
“What’s going on, son?” Luke’s dad tossed a quizzical look at Sam before focusing on Luke.
“I’m not real sure. It has something to do with our report cards being messed up, but —”
“Luke, what did you do?” Mr. Jensen’s voice sounded like a growl.
“Nothing, Dad. I promise I didn’t do anything.”
“Then why are we here? Principals don’t call parents to come in and discuss an issue if it isn’t serious.” He stared at Sam again.
She fought the urge to squirm under his scrutiny. She certainly hadn’t done anything wrong.
The door to Mrs. Trees’ office swung open. Felicia and her mother stepped outside. Felicia’s face was splotchy. Her eyes were puffy and red. Sam stood, but Felicia gave a little shake of her head. Without a word, she followed her mother down the hall and out of sight.
“Mr. Jensen?” Mrs. Trees asked from her doorway.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Come right in.” She looked at Luke. “You too, Luke.” She pointed at Sam. “You stay there.”
Sam slumped back to the bench as the door shut. This was ridiculous. She needed to get something for her article, something that didn’t include bashing her frien
ds.
A virus. That’s where she should start. That’s what the IT team said it was . . . a virus.
Sam pulled her iPhone out of her backpack, thankful they could have cell phones on campus as long as they were kept in lockers during the school day. She started to call Makayla, then remembered that Mac had karate. Instead, Sam sent a message:
Tell me everything you know about computer viruses.
Neither Felicia nor Luke were computer whizzes, so creating a virus was really beyond their abilities. Sam didn’t think that to be mean. She meant it as a way to help. Maybe writing an article that focused on the virus would take the attention off her friends.
She opened Safari on her cell and searched for grade tampering virus. There were a lot of search results, but nothing similar to what had happened there.
Was it all a fluke? Non-intentional?
Nah. No way. A computer virus doesn’t just come along, even she knew that. A person has to create one, build it from scratch. Why would anyone go to the trouble to create such a virus and use it here if they weren’t trying to tamper with at least a grade or two? It didn’t make sense to think it a fluke. No, this reeked of deliberate. Especially since it was isolated to their school.
Sam ran another search, this time on computer virus creators. The first result page she read stopped her cold. Some of the facts were astonishing to her. Apparently, computer hackers and virus creators weren’t in the same category. According to the site, hackers were usually far more sophisticated in their methods than virus creators. The site also burst the myth that virus creators were exceptionally smart. That wasn’t true, the site pointed out, continuing to report that someone who writes a virus really doesn’t have to have any special coding skills. The page read that anyone with a basic understanding of programming was capable of creating a virus.
Sam bookmarked the site to use as a reference for her article. Maybe Mrs. Trees would give her a statement. And she would need one from Dad too, even if it was his usual no comment. Maybe that guy in the suit in there was an IT person. Maybe she could get a statement from him too.