by Ben Mezrich
He led Crystal a few yards deeper into the mob, pushing between boys in fitted suits and girls in long, elegant dresses. He scanned the nearest round tables, where some of the teams had set up shop, their ceramic plates piled high with fancy hors d’oeuvres, amid towers of gleaming silverware. Charlie doubted Marion was going to find mini-hamburgers in any of the chrome trays on the buffet line. Or any gluten-free buns for that matter. Heck, Charlie doubted Marion would be able to pronounce any of the items the other kids were eating, let alone digest them.
He passed another pair of round tables, then pushed across a tightly packed carpeted section at the center of the room, directly beneath a huge Swarovski chandelier. From below, the chandelier looked a little like a sleeping octopus—each shiny tentacle swaying with the classical music being pumped into the room from hidden speakers above the giant windows. Then they were past the edge of the carpet, heading beyond a small stage set between a pair of potted trees. There was a podium on the stage, and on the podium, a large golden trophy, shaped like a 1920s airplane. Propeller in front, long stiff wings hanging out from each side, a pair of wheels beneath a bullet-shaped cockpit, and a tail that seemed a little too long for its body. The plane looked vaguely familiar, but Charlie couldn’t quite place it. He was about to ask Crystal what it was, when a blond ponytail swung right past his head, nearly hitting him in the nose. The trophy airplane might have been familiar, but the floral scent that hit him full in the face was unforgettable.
“Thought that was you,” Kelly said, spinning to a stop directly in front of Charlie and Crystal, her back to the stage and the podium. “Admiring the trophy? It’s going to look a lot cooler when I’m up there accepting it for my team—from a real live astronaut.”
She grinned, adjusting her green backpack over one shoulder. Aside from the backpack, she had cleaned up nicely; her dress was gray and ran all the way down past her knees. It was a strange thing indeed to see her toting her bag around a fancy party, but it wasn’t the weirdest thing he had seen. Kentaro seemed to have the same sort of affinity to his own neon sack.
“An astronaut?” Charlie said, because he couldn’t think of anything better. He wanted to tell this girl he barely knew that she looked great in gray, but there was no chance anything remotely close to that was going to come out of his mouth.
“Buzz Caldwell,” Kelly nodded. “His kid is in the competition, and his company is a lead sponsor, so it’s no surprise that they are hosting the winner’s ceremony at the end of the week. I’m almost as excited about meeting an astronaut as I am about winning that prize money.”
“Money isn’t everything,” Charlie tried, and Crystal made a sound to his left. She didn’t seem to be enjoying his efforts at making conversation; or maybe she was just trying to stick to their agenda. Crystal didn’t care much for deviation.
“I completely agree, but sometimes it’s hard to think that way,” Kelly said. “I think a lot of these kids are here for the trophy. But for some of us, the cash prize might be the only way we’ll get to go to college at all.”
Charlie felt like he’d just put his foot squarely in his mouth. Maybe it was the matching backpacks, but he had assumed Kelly was from a similar background as his. He knew he was privileged to have parents who were professors and to go to a school like Nagassack. His family wasn’t rich, not by a long shot, but he was lucky to have other things to worry about than how he was going to go to college.
“Have you met him?” Crystal broke in, thankfully changing the subject before Charlie had a chance to say something stupid. “Not the astronaut—his son; I think his name is Richard? I hear he’s some sort of genius.”
“He’s every sort of genius,” Kelly said. “He’s won this competition three years in a row. The first year, he was even officially too young to enter; they waived him in when one of his team members got sick the day before the competition started. I met him last year when we made the semifinals. His team killed us, but he was very nice about it—even gave me some pointers on how to extend my wing length to deal with the humidity factor.”
Wing length. Humidity. Charlie glanced at Crystal, who had the same expression on her face. These were things they were supposed to understand. This wasn’t going to be just folding a piece of paper a few times. There was real science behind this, and they were going to need to move fast to catch up to people like Kelly and Caldwell.
“I’d be happy to show you what he showed me,” Kelly started, slinging her backpack in front of her so she could reach the zipper. “I always carry a stack of regulation paper with me, in case I get the urge to practice.”
Charlie was surprised by Kelly’s willingness to share such information. If she really needed the prize money to afford college, then why was she so willing to share? But he wasn’t going to turn down valuable insight. Just as Kelly started reaching to open her bag, she was interrupted mid-zipper by a sudden, high-pitched wail that seemed to be coming from above the chandelier. Charlie swung around and saw flashing lights erupt across the ceiling.
“I think it’s the fire alarm!” Crystal shouted.
Charlie’s eyes widened. He didn’t smell any smoke or see anything bright or orange—but the crowd began pushing back toward the way they’d come in. A hundred kids looked like a thousand when they were all moving at once. He searched the room for the other Whiz Kids, but all he could see were strangers shoving and bumping their way toward the open double doors. He scanned along the walls and was surprised to see Kelly’s teammate—the big red-headed kid named Ryan—standing right by an open, red-and-white fire alarm. He had a telling smirk on his face. The same smug look Charlie had seen many a time on Dylan Wigglesworth’s face after he had done one of his myriad of pranks. It quickly became obvious to Charlie that Ryan had pulled the alarm for attention.
“I don’t think it’s a real fire,” Charlie said, and both Kelly and Crystal matched his gaze.
Kelly exhaled. “I’m sorry about this. He’s really not as bad as he seems. He’s just got some, well, issues.”
“He’s got issues?” Crystal exclaimed. “He’s a psycho. Pulling a fire alarm in a crowded ballroom?”
“Either way,” Charlie said, “I think we should get out of here.”
He saw Ryan slipping out through a fire exit and started in the same direction. Before he realized what was happening, Kelly had grabbed his hand and was heading through the crowd after him. He could hear Crystal grumbling from behind, “Wait up, guys.” But he was being buffeted by the crowd now, barely keeping his footing. Still, he could feel Kelly’s warm palm against his. Sparks moved up his arm, into his spine. He wasn’t quite sure why, but this girl seemed to like him. And even though she was supposed to be his competition, even though she was basically a stranger, a teammate to the kind of kid who pulled fire alarms during reception banquets, he was starting to really like her, too.
It took a good five minutes, but soon Charlie found himself outside, standing on a curb near the back of the hotel, next to an alley filled with huge green garbage bins. Kelly was still holding his hand, and together they fought to catch their breath, as more kids streamed past them into the street. They could still hear the fire alarm blaring from the hall, mingling with the sound of sirens in the distance. The fire trucks would arrive soon, something Charlie would usually find exciting. But he couldn’t think about much more than the strange fingers touching his.
“Now, that’s chivalry.” He heard Crystal’s exasperated voice from the darkness to his left. “Leave me there to burst into flames as you two run off on a date.”
Charlie could feel his face flushing. He wasn’t sure why he felt a closeness to a girl he barely knew. Heck, he’d known Crystal for years, and it was like she was basically a sister to him. He quickly let Kelly’s hand drop and feigned a cool-kid stance as he saw his friend stepping onto the curb next to him, her eyes angry behind her thick glasses.
“It wasn’t a real fire.”
Crystal was about to respond when M
arion, Kentaro, and Jeremy crashed through the fire door together, almost jamming themselves in the door frame by trying to exit at the exact same time. Marion was breathing hard as he reached the curb. Jeremy looked terrified next to him, his red hair sticking up from his head in a demented halo. But Kentaro seemed perfectly calm; in fact, he was still shoving what looked to be a handful of jumbo shrimp into his mouth from an overloaded plate he was balancing in one hand.
“Are you crazy?” Marion screamed at him between breaths. “You could have gotten us killed, dillydallying around the buffet while the place burned down around us!”
“It wasn’t a real fire. I saw that Ryan kid pull the alarm—”
“Yeah, me too. But did you ever think that maybe he pulled the alarm because he saw a fire?”
Kentaro thought for a moment. Then he shrugged.
“Still didn’t seem like a good reason to waste some perfectly good shrimp.”
Marion looked at Charlie and Crystal, then saw Kelly standing there. Kelly pointed down the street: Virginia Avenue, which bisected the National Mall, heading toward the center of the capital city.
“Maybe we should all take a walk. I don’t think the dinner will be starting up any time soon, and we may as well see the sights. DC is even cooler at night,” said Kelly.
Charlie could tell that Crystal would have preferred to head back to their hotel rooms so they could get to work on their paper airplanes, but the rest of the Whiz Kids seemed game.
As for Charlie, he would have followed Kelly right back into the ballroom, even if it really was on fire.
8
THE TAILLIGHTS SPARKLED LIKE strings of Christmas lights, lying next to one another along the packed avenue to his right, as Charlie followed Kelly down the double-wide sidewalk, his Whiz Kids a few steps behind. The city was bustling and alive. At times they had to push their way through groups of tourists and gaggles of government workers, a surging tide of men and women wearing dresses and ties, moving faster than necessary in every direction at once. The sky had gone dark, but the sidewalks and streets were lit by orange streetlamps and the traffic itself, a never-ending snake of taxicabs, delivery vans, SUVs, and sleek limousines.
Walking next to Kelly, with his friends behind him, Charlie had never felt so free. He doubted his parents would have been thrilled with the idea of him wandering around a city as big as Washington, DC, without adult guidance, but Kelly didn’t seem to have any reservations about a group of twelve-year-olds hitting the streets on their own. As she told Charlie more about her school and her upbringing, her street-smart attitude wasn’t surprising: Worth Hooks wasn’t exactly on the wrong side of the tracks, but most of the kids came from working-class families, a good portion even on some sort of public aid. Kelly’s father worked in construction; her mother waited tables. She had an older brother who was about to graduate from high school—which was why she was keenly aware of what an opportunity winning the cash prize would be, what it would mean for her future. Her brother would be going to a local community college because that was what her parents could afford, and he’d be working part time to pay for his books and other expenses.
“Hey, I’m not complaining,” she added. “A lot of kids have it way worse. That’s why I can never get too upset when Ryan does something stupid—well, he’s pretty much always doing something stupid. He hasn’t had an easy time of it, growing up the way he has.”
Charlie was so engrossed in her words, he almost didn’t notice as they moved off the sidewalk and into the shadow of what could only be described as a massive marble temple. It was only when Kelly paused and pointed that he realized where they were standing.
“See, it’s not really a fair race,” Kelly finally continued, as they skirted the Lincoln Memorial and across the stone steps leading down to a flat expanse of paved stone, which separated Lincoln’s perch from the Reflecting Pool. The towering, needlelike Washington Monument was now visible in the distance. “We don’t all start at the same place when it comes to throwing the planes. I started pretty far back, but Ryan couldn’t even see the starting line.”
By the time they reached the edge of the vast, rectangular pool, Charlie had a better idea of what kind of a kid pulled a fire alarm during a welcome banquet. According to Kelly, Ryan’s parents had gotten divorced when he was just a baby, and his father had skipped town by the time he was two. His two older brothers had dropped out of high school just before they’d been kicked out for fighting. But that was the least of Ryan’s mom’s concerns. The brothers also had pending charges of petty theft, among other delinquent charges. It wasn’t a surprise that Ryan had basically raised himself. It didn’t excuse his bad behavior, but it made it more understandable.
Standing at the edge of the long pool, staring across the glassy surface of the water, Charlie felt thankful for the things he had, and also for the nonquantifiable things like friendships, which were easy to take for granted. As Crystal, Jeremy, Marion, and Kentaro caught up, sidling next to him at the pool, he wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn’t found friends like them. Probably pretty lonely. Being smart was a gift, but it wasn’t everything—and it wasn’t always enough.
Crystal pointed toward the giant Washington Monument, all the way on the other side of the pool, rising up into the darkness, as far as the eye could see.
“See how the monument is reflected across the water. The lights on each side of the pool make it into a natural mirror—”
She paused, midsentence, and Charlie noticed that she was suddenly squinting her eyes. He followed her gaze and saw that something was moving above the surface of the glassy water. Something white and sleek, moving fast, slicing the air about fifteen feet above the pool.
“What the heck is that?” Kentaro asked. “Is that a bird?”
Charlie shook his head. The object was gliding in a straight line, cutting through the air with a precision that seemed too perfect, too deliberate. For a brief second it seemed to rise a foot higher, catching a puff of wind running horizontally across the Mall, but then it continued toward them, seeming to gain speed. It wasn’t until the object was a bare dozen feet away that Charlie realized what they were staring at.
A paper airplane.
“Is that what I think it is?” Crystal whispered.
The airplane sped the last yard to the end of the pool, then floated right past them, finally skidding down to the paved path just a half dozen feet to their left. Before Charlie or any of the others could move, a shape appeared out of the darkness along the side of the reflecting pool. It was a kid, about Charlie’s age and height, jogging toward the now-landed paper plane. Even from that distance, in the soft light from around the pool, Charlie recognized that auburn hair, a little bit longer in the front.
“Richard Caldwell,” Charlie whispered. Kelly nodded.
“In the flesh. Man, that plane cleared half the length of the Reflecting Pool. Did you see the way it worked the air currents coming off the water? We have our work cut out for ourselves this year if we’re going to have a shot at the prize money,” said Charlie.
Her expression was more awed than concerned. For a moment, Charlie felt a pang of jealousy at the way Kelly was watching Caldwell chase down his plane. Then again, it was hard not to be impressed by both the kid and his paper airplane.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Charlie said, and then he started after Caldwell. Crystal and Jeremy tried to come with him, but he waved them back. He figured he ought to make his introductions on his own. He didn’t know what to expect from a kid who looked so slick, so mature—and if he was going to work his way in with this astronaut’s son, he might have to do some pretty subtle acting. Crystal had a tendency to bludgeon her way through awkward situations, and Jeremy could be a loose cannon.
Charlie reached Caldwell just as he was bending to pick up the airplane from one of the paving stones.
“That was incredible,” Charlie said, staring down at Caldwell’s auburn hair. The strands were so shin
y and straight, they could have belonged to an expensive doll. “Must have gone fifty feet. We’d be lucky if we could get one of our planes to cross Virginia Avenue!”
Charlie’s comment wasn’t that far from the truth. The few planes they’d made since Anastasia had sent in the paperwork to enter them into the competition had been crude flyers, barely better than the sort of four-fold paper airplanes kids like Dylan had been using to irritate homeroom teachers since the third grade. Though Charlie had taken a dozen books on the science of paper airplanes out of the library, and had been studying everything he could find online about the mechanics of paper flight, he and his team still had a lot to learn before they could consider themselves real competitors. Then again, from what Charlie had just witnessed, it was unlikely that any amount of library books or websites was going to prepare them to take on a kid like Richard Caldwell.
Caldwell grabbed the paper plane and rose to his feet, holding it out in front of Charlie. The orange light of a nearby streetlamp revealed perfect folds so crisp, the thing looked like it had been sculpted by a 3-D printer. Before Charlie could say anything, Caldwell was offering the plane to him.
“Feel free to take a closer look. It’s my latest design. I brought it here for a test run because the water slows the air speed, simulates a bit of a vacuum.”
Caldwell was smiling, the look on his face so friendly Charlie felt immediately bad that he wasn’t just here making conversation with a fellow competitor. He was part of a scheme—for the second time in his life—and this time, the scheme could have real negative implications for this kid’s father. Even if Buzz Caldwell was somehow involved in the theft of moon rocks, his son was innocent, just a smart kid who was particularly good at making paper airplanes.