After my father dropped me off, I waited on the school’s front steps. Sam showed up next, followed by Noah.
“Amy’s mom said she dropped Amy off early,” Sam reported. “So she’s probably in the gym for fencing practice.”
We ran up the steps and went inside.
“Man, I still can’t believe Amy doubled down like that,” Noah said.
“I think I pushed her too hard,” Sam admitted. “Now when they uncover who’s behind the app, she’s really going to get in trouble.”
“Yeah, it’s full-blown cheating now,” Noah added.
“Or at least the ability to,” I said.
“Why would she add all those other schools?” asked Sam.
“Are you kidding?” Noah rubbed his thumb and index finger together. “That means big bucks after that news story last night.”
“You think people will really pay for it?” asked Sam. “I can’t believe the academy’s students will go for it.”
“First of all, there’s no way Davenport will let this fly,” said Noah. “I bet there’s an announcement before lunch banning the app entirely.” He shrugged. “But if he doesn’t ban it . . . then yeah, it’s worth five bucks to keep the alerts coming.”
Sam shook her head and pressed forward. “We have to talk her into taking it down.”
When we reached the gym, there were only three fencers there. There was a tall, thin fencer sparring with a shorter one. The looming figure couldn’t be mistaken for anyone other than Michel Villa. The fencer watching the bout had his mask off; it was Kyle Swan. The third one had to be Amy.
We strode across the gym floor as the sound of clashing foils echoed around us.
“Amy,” Sam said. “We need to talk.”
The fencers didn’t stop.
“Yo, Ames!” Noah shouted as we approached.
“Halt!” Michel ordered. Both fencers lowered their foils and Michel removed his mask. He waved to Noah as we jogged over.
“Amy? She is not here this morning,” Michel said in his French accent.
The shorter fencer removed his mask. It was Toby Nguyen.
“Have you seen her?” I asked.
“No, I have not,” replied Michel.
“Okay, thanks,” Noah said with a wave. “Sorry to bother you!”
“It’s no bother,” Michel said. He put his mask back on. “My program has been working great thanks to you. Happy to help, if I can.”
We bid him farewell and headed straight for our first period class. She wasn’t there either.
“You don’t think she skipped school, do you?” I asked.
“Create a killer cheating app and ditch in one day?” Noah shook his head. “Not Amy.”
We strolled around the nearly empty school, glancing in classrooms along the way.
Sam stopped and pulled out her phone. “I’m texting her again.” Her thumbs flew across the screen.
To our surprise, we finally received a reply. A group text appeared on my screen. “In the library. Please help.”
We jogged up to the second floor and ran down the hall to the library. We found Amy sitting at an empty table hunched over her laptop.
I exhaled with relief as I glanced around. We were completely alone. I guess my imagination went wild when I read her last text. I pictured her being held hostage or something.
Amy looked up as we approached. Her hair and clothes were disheveled and large bags hung under her eyes. Since Amy usually never had a hair out of place and her clothes were always meticulously pressed, it was like looking at another person entirely.
“What happened?” Sam asked.
“I’ve been up all night,” Amy replied. “Someone took over my app and locked me out.”
10
The Repercussion Discussion
WE ALL SAT AROUND THE table while Amy explained what happened. Noah had Amy’s laptop, trying to log back into the App Store website.
“I hadn’t changed the app’s programming in a couple of days,” Amy explained. “When the update alert happened last night, I thought it was a mistake.” She rubbed her temple. “I tried to log in but my password wouldn’t work.”
Noah pointed to a page on the website. “It says here that you turned over the app to some company called Insider, Inc.”
“That’s what they told me,” Amy said. “I was on the phone with Tech Support for a couple of hours. They said I gave away all rights and control over the app.” She shook her head frantically. “But I didn’t!”
“We believe you,” I said.
Amy wrung her hands. “And when I saw what they did to my app . . .” She glanced up at Sam. “I know you think my app was cheating before, but now it’s really cheating. And they’re making money off it?”
Sam gave a half smile. “I’m sorry, Amy. I overreacted before.”
Amy shook her head. “No, you were right.” She covered her face with her hands. “This was so stupid. Stupid!”
I’ve never seen Amy so upset. Sure, we’ve witnessed the odd panic attack when she thought she might have to give some kind of presentation in front of a group of people. But this was more like utter devastation.
“Don’t worry about that right now,” I said, putting a hand on Amy’s shoulder. “What did the phone company say? Can they clear everything up?”
Amy lowered her hands and sighed. “Well, after I spent tons of time proving to them that I was who I said I was, they said they would conduct an investigation.”
“So, that’s good, right?” Sam asked. She attempted a brave smile. “If your account was hacked, they’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah, but their investigation could take weeks,” Amy explained, her eyes welling up with tears.
I cringed. “Not so great.”
Amy jutted a thumb at her computer. “In the meantime, someone has turned my app into a cheating tool. Everyone’s going to think I did this.”
For the moment, only the four of us knew that Amy created the app. Well, us and the person who hacked it. But if the news crew kept digging, they would more than likely find out who created it in the first place. Reporters always had various contacts in different companies. They might find someone who would leak confidential information. And all they would need was the name.
“Then we need to get ahead of this,” I announced. “We go to Mr. Davenport and tell him the entire story.”
“What?” asked Amy and Noah.
“Look,” I said pointedly. “If you tell him now, before school starts and before anyone uploads quizzes, then that proves you’re innocent. He’ll ban the app and you’ll have nothing to gain.”
“Yeah,” agreed Sam. “How can you make money if you know your app will be banned?”
Amy ran a hand through her hair. “Okay. You’re right.” She looked up at us with a half smile. “Will you all come with me?”
Sam grinned. “Of course!”
The four of us made our way down to the first floor. The halls began to fill as more students arrived for school. None of them seemed to notice how we shuffled along. I don’t know about my friends, but it felt as if we were marching toward death row.
When we arrived at the front office, Ms. Lane, the office manager, was working at her computer.
“Is Mr. Daven . . . ?” Amy squeaked before clearing her throat. “Is Mr. Davenport in?”
“He’s in his office, hon.” Ms. Lane smiled. “You can go on back.”
We filed past the front counter and headed toward the principal’s office. Even though I was just there to back up my friend, it still felt as if I was in trouble.
Mr. Davenport looked up from his desk as we entered. “You know I have an open-door policy, but”—he glanced at his watch—“you’re about to be late for class.”
“This is important, sir,” I said.
“All right.” He leaned forward. “How can I help?”
“I created the Pop Chop app,” Amy blurted out, and then slammed her eyes shut.
“Whoa, wha
t?” the principal asked, taken aback. “You did, Miss Hsu?”
Amy tightened her lips and nodded.
Mr. Davenport leaned back in his chair. “Well, this is a surprise.” He pointed at the rest of us. “And you all helped, I assume?”
Amy’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, sir. It was all me. They’re just here for . . . moral support.”
“All right, then, Miss Hsu. I certainly give you credit for your ingenuity,” he said. “The ethical gray area not withstanding.”
“Ethical gray area?” I asked.
“But in the interview you said it was a helpful study aid,” said Noah.
“I did,” our principal agreed. “But since that report aired last night, I’ve received several e-mails from concerned parents. Most of them think the app is indeed cheating.”
“Because it’s an app?” asked Sam. “But what if a student were to tape a sign outside of class that—”
“Maybe . . . now’s not the time to have that debate,” I said, gently interrupting Sam. A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth—Sam was using my argument to defend her best friend. I took a deep breath, getting serious. “Mr. Davenport, something’s happened that you should know about.”
With Amy taking the lead, we told him about the app’s latest update. His eyes widened as the story progressed.
Mr. Davenport tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “So you’re telling me that anyone can photograph a test and upload it to this app?”
We all nodded.
“You know that’s definitely cheating, right?” he asked. “No gray area at all with that.”
“Yes, but it’s not Amy’s fault,” Sam explained. She told him about how someone took control of the app and locked Amy out.
“You don’t know who it was?” asked Mr. Davenport.
“No, but we’re going to find out,” said Noah. “I’m thinking it’s someone in this school.”
“So you’re accusing another student of what could be a serious crime,” Mr. Davenport said. “But you don’t know who it is. It could be some hacker overseas, for all we know. Meanwhile, Miss Hsu just confessed to creating the app in the first place.”
“But don’t worry, sir,” I said. “We’ll figure out who it is.”
Mr. Davenport removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Well, Miss Hsu. I appreciate you coming here and telling me all this.” He replaced his glasses and sat straight at his desk. “But due to the serious nature of these events, I have no choice but to suspend you while we conduct an investigation.”
“Suspend her?” asked Sam.
“It’s standard procedure for this sort of thing.” Mr. Davenport stood. “You three get to your first period class. Miss Hsu, go collect your things while we call your parents.”
11
The Postponement Proposition
WE WALKED AMY BACK TO her locker. Her lower lip trembled and I could tell she was fighting back tears. Luckily, most of the students had already gone to class. The hallway was nearly empty.
“Don’t worry, Amy,” said Sam. “We’ll find out who did this.”
“Even better,” Noah added, “I’ll find a way to log on to your developer site and we’ll delete the app completely.”
“We’ve got your back, Amy,” I said. “You’ll be cleared in no time.”
“Thanks,” Amy said, giving a weak smile. “But you better get to class. You’re all going to be tardy.”
“Aw, we still have some . . . ,” Noah began, before the bell rang.
Oh, yeah. Having a photographic memory is not Amy’s only superpower. She has a near-perfect internal clock.
The four of us shared a small laugh before parting ways.
Sam, Noah, and I were almost to the outside of our first class when it hit me. Any minute now Mr. Davenport would make an announcement banning all use of the Pop Chop app. How would we find the person responsible if he did that?
“I’ll meet you inside,” I told my friends. “I have to do one more thing.”
I jogged back toward the front office. Now, I’ve never used my name to get special privileges at school. I’ve worked too hard to keep people from treating me differently as it is. But if I did, I would certainly throw my name around to try to get Amy reinstated. And even if it did work, it would only work once. As soon as my father heard about it, I’d be grounded for a year.
Right then, however, I felt a little differently. Maybe my name would give me just a few more minutes of Mr. Davenport’s time. I only needed a small favor from him.
I reached the front office and Ms. Lane had stepped away from her desk. I ran past it and entered Mr. Davenport’s office.
“What do you need now, Mr. Swift?” Mr. Davenport asked. “I have to make an announcement banning this app once and for all.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Could you, kind of, not do that?”
Mr. Davenport glared at me over the rim of his glasses. “Excuse me?”
“Well, we want to catch whoever hacked Amy’s app, right?” I asked. “I’m not sure how we’re going to do that yet, but if the app goes away, so does the person who controls it. They’ll just fade like nothing ever happened.”
“So, you think you can flush them out somehow?” the principal asked.
“Maybe,” I replied. “Hopefully.”
Mr. Davenport shook his head. “I don’t know. With this app out there, the way it is, the pop quizzes are going to be useless.”
I chuckled. “It’s not like they were doing any good anyway.” I nearly winced after I spoke. That just kind of slipped out.
“What do you mean they aren’t doing any good?” Mr. Davenport asked. His eyes narrowed. “I came up with the pop quiz regimen myself.”
“They were your idea?” I asked.
“Certainly,” he replied. “I wanted to make sure all the academy students got the most out of their education.”
My stomach knotted. I have never told a teacher that he or she was flat-out wrong before, especially not the school principal. But if Mr. Davenport believed the quizzes were helping his students, he was way off base. Someone had to give him a student’s point of view. And unfortunately for me, I was the only one here with the perfect opening. I took a deep breath.
“Well, excuse me for saying this, sir,” I said, “but what if I told you the opposite was happening?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked, his eyes narrowing again. “And be honest.”
“Okay.” I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. “First of all, one of the great things about the academy is that all the teachers are so different. With all the pop quizzes, they’re slowly starting to teach the same way, just throwing information out there.”
“Really?” asked the principal.
“And the same goes with the students,” I added. “We’re just trying to remember what’s going to be on the next test.” I put a hand on my chest. “I can’t speak for everyone, but learning used to be fun. Lately it’s been more memorization than anything else.”
“So you think there shouldn’t be any tests?” asked the principal. “Just grade everyone on the honor system?”
“No, sir,” I replied. “I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying that there are just too many of them right now. It’s way too much pressure.”
Mr. Davenport raised his hands. “If you’ve learned the material anyway, there should hardly be any pressure.”
“Let me put it to you this way, sir,” I said, leaning closer. “A student with a photographic memory, who can ace any test you put in front of her, created an app to relieve the stress of those tests. What does that tell you?”
Mr. Davenport’s lips tightened as he drummed his fingers on his desk. “Well, that’s a lot to think about.” He pointed to his computer monitor. “But Mr. Swift . . . Tom. There’s no way I can ignore this app now. I’m going to be flooded with e-mails from parents by tomorrow morning. I guarantee it.”
“Just give us a couple of days, sir,” I said. �
��Please.”
Mr. Davenport clenched his jaw and slowly shook his head. It looked as if all of this was for nothing. I didn’t get through to him.
Then he sighed. “You have twenty-four hours.”
12
The Calibration Calculation
I MADE IT BACK TO class with just enough time to catch—you guessed it—that morning’s pop quiz. When it was over Mr. Jenkins began the day’s lecture. As quietly as I could, I told Sam and Noah about my conversation with Mr. Davenport.
“Twenty-four hours isn’t enough time,” Noah whispered.
“It has to be,” I said. “In the meantime, we should keep an eye out and see if anyone is acting differently.”
“What, you think someone will be walking around counting all the money they made from the updated app?” asked Sam.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “We have to look for something.”
I honestly didn’t think that far ahead. That was my superpower: Come up with half a plan and wing it from there.
“I’m going to research the company name that supposedly bought Amy’s app,” Sam whispered. “Maybe I can track the person that way.”
“Good idea,” I said.
“Tom, all my software is on my home computer,” Noah said. “I can’t work on breaking the password until I get home.”
I knew that my friend was an excellent programmer and a budding hacker, but I had no idea what he was talking about.
“What do you do at night?” I asked him. “Hack into the White House servers?”
“Oh, yeah.” Noah nodded. “Do you remember when all those Secret Service agents swarmed my house and hauled away my computer equipment?”
“What? No!” I replied.
“Right, because it didn’t happen,” Noah said. “I’m not stupid, Tom.” He glanced around. “But I have some tools that might do the job.”
Sam shushed us just as Mr. Jenkins paused to stare in our direction. The three of us stared back blankly, pretending to write down the last thing he said. Noah even looked over his shoulder, pretending to look for what Mr. Jenkins was staring at.
Our teacher gave an impatient sigh and went back to his lecture. We didn’t risk talking the rest of the class.
The Sonic Breach Page 5