“Hey, I don’t think you should be touching that …,” Andy warned.
Pyro didn’t hear. Even if he had, he didn’t want to listen to what anyone had to say. This was his specialty. “I think whoever owned this place before the school bought it was making chemical weapons! Like nerve gas and stuff like that! Hey, let me show you the coolest thing here.” He ducked behind some steel barrels and came back with a small glass vial filled with oil. There was a marble-sized chunk of silvery rock in the vial.
“Sodium!” he cackled with glee. “Sodium!”
Andy peered at it closely. “Isn’t that just plain old salt? What’s so great about that?” Andy asked. He was getting a little worried at how worked up Pyro was.
“No, it’s not salt! Don’t you watch YouTube?” Pyro laughed. “Sodium is a weird kind of metal. It’s alka … alkaline, or whatever it’s called. Anyways, if it gets wet, it explodes!” He was gesturing violently with his hands, shaking the vial.
“Take it easy, will ya?” Andy pleaded. “I don’t want it to explode now! What are you going to do with that stuff?”
“We’re gonna blow a hole in the wall and get out of here.” A flame of determination flared in Pyro’s eyes as they were fixed on the vial.
Andy realized that he had befriended the most dangerous person he had ever met.
They started back through the stuffy, hot metal air ducts back to their rooms, carrying full spray bottles of insecticide for Joey’s crew, along with some vials of sodium, earmarked for The Great Escape. Along the way, Andy was stung once on his right arm by an enraged ant. It felt like someone had jabbed a red-hot needle into his skin. Pyro clamped a hand over his mouth before he could scream.
Hector explained their situations as they negotiated the beams and cables in the crawl space. “Pyro is twelve, and I’m eleven. I kept getting into trouble during sixth grade, and finally a judge made my mom choose — either send me here for three months, or I’d have to go into juvie for six months. So she picks here, right? Who wouldn’t? What she didn’t know is that nobody gets out of this place when they’re supposed to. I’ve been here for more than nine months. They keep pushing back my release. In the meetings, some lawyer for the school says that I haven’t been ‘rehabilitated’ yet.” He was getting visibly upset as he went on. “I don’t know how they’re doing it, but it’s like they have a deal with the judge, or something. It’s crooked, man.”
Andy looked over at Pyro.
“Yeah, it’s true, Andy. Same story with me; trouble in middle school ended in three months for me here, or a year at a worse place. But I’ve been here for seven months. Some of us feel like we’ll never get out, so here’s our ticket out of here, made of pure sodium.”
Back in his room, Andy’s thoughts were racing. Could Pyro and Hector be right? Could they keep him in here for longer than three months, maybe for as long as they wanted? He was twelve, like Pyro … maybe being older could cause an even longer stay. How could that be? Who was coming out ahead by keeping kids locked up like this? Each question seemed to raise another.
Andy’s head spun with hidden passageways, exploding metals, and underground warehouses. The muggy heat was unbearable, and he stared, unseeing, into the dark, until exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he fell into a sweat-soaked, dreamless sleep.
ANDY MADE HIS WAY THROUGH THE CAVERNOUS room used as a cafeteria. The clatter of plates and trays filled his ears as he negotiated the cafeteria line, dodging the bigger guys.
The large dining hall was one of the warmest and stinkiest places in the whole school. The combination of inefficient air-conditioning and the heat thrown off by hundreds of teenaged boys in one closed room combined to make one of the most uncomfortable places Andy had ever been.
And then there was the food.
The unrecognizable brown glop ladled onto his plate looked kind of gross, but Andy figured it probably wouldn’t kill him. The trick was to wolf it down before the smell of whatever it was, plus the odor of hundreds of unwashed, sweating boys, became nauseating. A nice surprise was dessert: a small bowl of chocolate pudding. Andy decided he would eat that first.
He navigated his way between tables of seated boys. He could see Pyro stopped a few tables away.
Andy dodged around boys as he looked for an empty seat.
He couldn’t avoid the foot some wise guy stuck out to trip him. His tray flew out of his hands, and he went down hard, catching his head against a table as he fell.
For a moment, he saw stars. As his head cleared, he realized that total silence had fallen over the lunchroom. He noticed one of the big ants crawling past his face.
“HEY!” a voice bellowed, echoing.
Andy was roughly hauled to his feet … face to neck with Joey, the thug who had roughed up Pyro on Andy’s first day at the Reclamation School. Joey now had Andy’s chocolate pudding splattered all down his shirt. The other kids at the table were all laughing and pointing at Joey. Andy felt a momentary pang of regret. He’d been looking forward to the pudding.
“I’m gonna debone your face.” Joey cocked his fist back.
“Uh-oh …,” Andy said, and clenched his eyes shut.
A chair whooshed by Andy’s head and slammed into Joey, knocking him over. Andy fell to the floor again.
Suddenly, trays, plates, and food were flying, and the cafeteria erupted in chaos.
The proctors, surprised at the uprising, belatedly began blowing whistles and pulling kids apart.
Andy thought it would be a good idea to get out while no one noticed him. He stayed on all fours, below the tables, and made his way toward an exit. School staff were streaming in, adding to the mob.
Andy reached for the door handle. Whew, he thought, that was clo—
“Goin’ somewhere, twerp?” Joey growled, barring the door. He yanked Andy up by the shirt and cocked his fist back.
Andy’s eyes were locked on Joey’s meaty fist.
The room rocked with a loud BOOM! and Andy was thrown to the floor again. Chips of plaster rained down on the crowd, and everyone stopped dead.
Andy slowly stood up. Acrid smoke drifted through the air, and he could see water jetting from a wall across the room. Someone had blown up the water fountain. It had been ripped to shreds by the explosion.
He could see Pyro through the smoke across the room. There was a demonic grin on his face, and a bleeding cut on his forehead.
Time to go! Andy thought, deciding to take advantage of the confusion resulting from the detonation. The door was only a step or two away.
As he turned to escape, he was pushed roughly from the doorway.
“Outta the way!” Joey growled, grabbing the door handle.
“You two! Hold it right there!” barked Maxwell. He clamped down on Joey’s arm with one hand and roughly hauled Andy to his feet with the other.
Headmaster Switch considered the eight boys who stood in front of his desk. Pyro was on Andy’s right, and Hector was next to him. They had been standing there for about fifteen minutes. Switch had been sitting at his desk, watching them, turning darker shades of purple as the minutes crawled by. Finally, he spoke.
“I’m very disappointed in you boys.”
Andy bit down hard on his lip to keep from laughing. One of the other kids couldn’t keep a snort from escaping.
The headmaster glared at the unfortunate boy.
“Mr. Maxwell, it seems that Master Rodriguez finds this whole situation amusing.”
Oh, no … Hector. Andy cringed inwardly.
Maxwell replied, “Yes, sir,” and stood behind Hector.
The headmaster rose from his desk and slowly walked around it to stand in front of Hector. “Let me spell out your current situation, Master Rodriguez, and we’ll see if you continue to find it funny.” He straightened the tight knot in his blood-colored tie. “The Reclamation School isn’t like any school you’ve ever been to. It is run by a private group of investors. We don’t answer to a school board. You have been abandoned by th
e public school system, as well as by your parents. You’ve made a car accident out of your life: poor choices, poor grades, poor future. So your parents and your school gave up on you.” He put a pale hand on Hector’s shoulder. “Do you really understand what that means? They have no hope for you and can’t be bothered trying to help you anymore. It must be tragic for them: all the wishes they must have had for your future, gone, before their eyes. Yes, it must be a difficult thing for a parent to realize that it would have been more humane to have killed you at birth, rather than see the shambles you’ve made of their hopes and your own life.”
Hector became more and more upset.
A realization hit Andy: Switch was clearly practiced at this. He cut through Hector’s emotions as easily as a surgeon cuts through skin, muscle, and tendon.
Andy watched Switch verbally shred Hector without expression, but inside, he was shaking with anger. How could anyone be this vicious to a kid like Hector, who wouldn’t hurt a fly? This latest outrage, piled on top of his foster father Chazz’s brutality and his being sent here, was the final straw. He felt his face burning with rage. His vision narrowed until all he could see was Switch’s sickly grin. Fists clenched, he started to step forward out of line, as Switch paused a moment to look out the window.
A big hand clamped down on his shoulder. Andy turned to look, and Maxwell gave him a quick shake of his head. Don’t do it.
Maxwell cleared his throat, “Um, Master Switch, sir, I think …”
He stopped as Switch turned and wordlessly glared at the bigger proctor for several seconds with pale blue eyes like hardened glass. Maxwell, cowed, shuffled back a step.
Oh, my God, thought Andy. Even Maxwell’s petrified of this guy! How can that be? He studied Switch. There must be a reason, he thought.
An ant was making its way up the wall across the room from the boys. Andy watched as it steadily climbed, turning its head this way and that as it surveyed its surroundings. Switch caught sight of it as he paced. He walked to his desk, picking up the can of insecticide. He gave it a brief shake as he strode to the wall. The ant continued its progress. It was just at Switch’s eye level.
Switch leaned close, until the tip of the can was about a half inch from the unfortunate bug. He pressed on the actuator, and the bug was instantly covered by poisonous liquid. It dropped to the floor, where it twitched fitfully, its legs struggling to right itself. Switch slowly raised his foot and stamped down hard. Andy could hear the crunch of the bug as it was squashed flat. Switch turned to face the boys, a twisted smile on his face, and straightened his tie.
He continued, “My job is to straighten you out, because they couldn’t. They’ve given me a free hand. Even the juvenile court system isn’t looking at us too closely. I can hold any of you as long as I deem necessary. Do you understand that? One phone call to the judge who sent you here, and I can double or triple your stay at Reclamation.
“So, what do you think now, Master Rodriguez? Do you still find your situation humorous?”
Hector gulped and shook his head.
Switch walked back to look out the window behind his desk. The heat was rising in waves from the baking landscape.
In a mild voice, he said, “It was very … unusual the way that drinking fountain malfunctioned, wasn’t it, Mr. Maxwell?”
“Yes, sir,” Maxwell replied quickly. “Almost like it was blown up, sir.”
Switch turned to face the boys again. “Yes, my thoughts exactly. But wherever would one of our students find explosives? Perhaps one of you boys can shed some light on that question?” Switch paced along the lineup of boys. He glanced at Andy, and then stopped in front of Pyro.
“Master Porter. This seems like something that would appeal to you, what with your interest in incendiaries. Do you know anything about how that drinking fountain was destroyed?”
Pyro’s eyes were wide. He slowly shook his head.
The headmaster frowned. “No, no, of course not. Any of you?” He looked at each of the boys in turn. Nobody moved a muscle.
“Disappointing.” Switch slowly circled his desk and sat down. He leaned forward with his elbows on his desk, fingers interlaced. He shook his head slightly. “Perhaps a few days of ‘contemplation’ will help you to see the light. Mr. Maxwell, take them to the meditation section.”
Maxwell said, “Sir, the solitary … I mean contemplation rooms are being repainted. How ’bout we put them in Block Six? Those rooms aren’t being used right now, and they all have dead bolts on the doors.”
“Excellent. That will do nicely. See to it.”
“Right away, sir. All right, you little hoodlums, let’s move it.” Maxwell opened the office door, and the boys, feeling a sense of doom settling over them, filed out.
The walk out to Block Six was short, but blistering. The boys squinted as they stepped out into the late afternoon heat.
Block Six was a small building a few hundred feet from the main complex. There were no windows to disrupt the monotony of the light gray concrete walls. Maxwell touched the door latch, and pulled back quickly, swearing. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket, draping it over the heated metal, and unlocked the latch. The heavy door swung open, and they went in.
Inside the small building, the air was sluggish and still. It was even hotter inside than it was outside.
He herded the boys into a large room, empty of furniture, and flipped on the lights. The paint was peeling, and there was a layer of dust on the floor. It felt like no one had been in this building for months. Attached to the room was a bathroom with stained tile floors and chipped sinks and toilets. The smell of ammonia and who knows what else was strong.
“All right. Sit down and keep your mouths shut. Try to keep from killing one another for a few minutes.”
Joey said sullenly, “I’m hungry.”
Maxwell turned around at the door. “Shoulda thought about that before you trashed the cafeteria. You’re all on bread and water for three days.”
The boys groaned.
He closed the door and locked it.
The boys spread out and sat on the floor with their backs against the wall. Andy sat with Pyro and Hector. He didn’t know the other boys, except one.
Joey sat across the room, staring at them. “You three are so dead,” he spat.
“Great,” Hector muttered under his breath.
A few minutes later, the door was unlocked and opened by one of the other proctors. He placed some loaves of plain bread and a few gallon containers of water on the floor just inside the doorway. “Share and share alike, ladies. You’d better finish this off, or the ants will. I’ll check back on you later.” He closed and locked the door behind him.
Andy could hear his footsteps leaving the building.
Joey got up, and started to make his way across the room where Andy, Hector, and Pyro were sitting.
“Joey. Don’t even think about it,” one of the seated boys said.
“Stay out of this, Shields. It ain’t your problem,” Joey said.
Andy watched as two boys stood up and approached Joey. One was only a little taller than Andy, with freckles and sandy brown hair falling in his eyes. He had broad shoulders, and carried himself as if he wasn’t afraid of Joey. The other boy was taller and leaner, with large, intense eyes gazing from a dark-skinned face. His hair was clipped very short, and Andy could see drops of perspiration on his scalp.
“I’m makin’ it my problem. Sit down and shut up before we get in any more trouble. Or we’ll make you.”
“Oh, like I’m really afraid of you, Reilly. What are you gonna do, bite my kneecaps?” Joey sneered.
“You don’t have your backup now, Joey. We could wipe the floor with you,” the other boy said.
For a moment, Andy thought that Joey was going to take a swing at one of them, but he walked away to the other side of the room, muttering, “Not worth stepping on roaches like you, anyway.”
Reilly watched Joey cross the room, and then looked back to An
dy. “Looks like you have a friend for life, there,” he said with a wry grin. “I’m Reilly, and this is Shields.”
“Hey, thanks for stepping in. I think he would have killed me,” Andy said ruefully.
Shields nodded. “Joey’s an idiot, but he’s a big idiot.”
“The two of us got here just before Joey,” Reilly said. “He’s been trying to take the place over. He recruited a bunch of losers even dumber than he is. We’ve been getting as many of the guys as we can to look out for one another. Take my advice: Don’t go anywhere by yourself. Joey’ll have his goon squad looking for the opportunity to pound you.”
“How did you two get thrown in here?” Andy asked.
“A couple of Joey’s buddies thought they’d take advantage of the food fight, and tried to gang up on Reilly,” Shields said, with a chilly smile. “They didn’t get away with it, but the proctors grabbed us, and let the goons go.”
The ceiling lights flickered, then turned off and on three times.
“Lights out in fifteen minutes,” Pyro said softly.
Andy and the other boys lay down on the cooling concrete. When the lights dimmed, and then died, he curled up on his side, his face scratched by the grit on the floor. Is this what my life is going to be like? he asked himself. Falling from one awful situation into the next?
Heavy thoughts settled on him like a stifling blanket. He saw his life stretching ahead like an empty road leading nowhere. He closed his eyes and slept.
Andy woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. Something had jostled him. He sat up and tried to clear his head. Pyro and Hector were a few arms’ lengths away. Too far to bump him.
Suddenly, there was a loud CRRRACK and the floor started to shift.
The other boys were shaken awake, panicked and screaming.
The room shook violently. Andy tried to stand up, but couldn’t keep on his feet. Rolling vibrations passed through the floor. Doors rattled in their frames.
Andy heard muffled crashes and bangs as fixtures and objects in other rooms were thrown about. The sound of shattered glass reached him as the windows in the main building were broken. Muffled explosions flung clods of dirt against the building.
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