Glitch

by Laura Martin

  “I hope so,” she said, hurrying to keep up with me as I stormed out the simulation door. “Although I only wanted to screw up your test, not get myself in trouble.”

  “Well, you should have thought of that before you tackled me,” I said.

  “Solid point,” she said.

  “We didn’t, you know, mention the you-know-what by accident in the simulation. Did we?” I asked, because that question could not sit in my brain one more second.

  Regan stopped walking so abruptly I almost ran into her. She turned to me, her face white.

  “I don’t think so. Did we?”

  “I don’t think so either,” I said. “But if we didn’t, then why are we doing this in your mom’s office and not in the recap review room with everyone else?”

  Regan shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Besides, I thought you were going to pretend that the thing never happened.”

  “I was,” I said. “But you seem determined to screw that plan up for me.”

  Regan sniffed. “I am.”

  “You’re kind of hard to like,” I said. “You know that?”

  She nodded. “I do. And right back at you.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Let’s just get through this meeting with your mom first, and then we’ll worry about that headache.”

  “You’re a headache,” she muttered under her breath.

  “What was that?” I said, although I knew perfectly well what she’d just said.

  She looked me right in the eye. “You. Are. A. Giant. Headache,” she said. “A hammer pounding between the eyes, it feels like my head is going to explode headache. We could have avoided this if you weren’t such a jerk.”

  “Well, if I’m a headache, then you’re a royal pain and dumb as a rock if you thought I was going to let a letter keep me from being the youngest cadet to level up,” I said a tad too loudly, so that we both glanced nervously up and down the empty hallway before continuing.

  “You’re right,” she said with a smug smile. “It took me. You’re welcome.” With that she turned and strode off down the hall.

  I scowled at the back of her stupid blond head the entire rest of the way to the staff offices.

  I’d only been in the staff section a handful of times. Once when my schedule had been messed up, and I’d needed the Academy secretary to un-mess it for me; the other times were for office-hours visit with this professor or that. But I’d never, not even once, gone in the commander in chief’s office, and had Regan not decided to totally mess up my life, I probably never would have.

  Regan looked like she was ready to meet a firing squad when we finally arrived outside her mom’s office door. If she was this nervous, I was definitely in trouble, I thought grimly. Doing my best to ignore the sinking feeling of dread that was pulling at my heart like a lead weight, I squared my shoulders and held my chin up as the door slid open a second later. We walked inside the cavernous office as the doors slid shut behind us with an ominous click.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Regan

  Mom’s office was big and impressive, and I hated it. I avoided the place when I could, and barely tolerated it when avoidance didn’t work. But it wasn’t the office itself that bothered me. It was who my mom became when she sat behind that big desk. Here, she was the commander in chief, not Mom. Here, she accepted nothing less than perfection. Here, I was just another cadet. I knew that was how it had to be, but it didn’t mean I had to like it.

  To my surprise, though, she wasn’t alone behind that desk today. Sitting to her left was the mysterious professor who had whispered in her ear, and to her right was Professor Green looking smug about something.

  “Sit,” Commander Fitz said, and Elliot and I obeyed immediately, both of us perching on the front edge of our chairs like we were about to take flight.

  “Now then,” Commander Fitz said, taking her own seat behind her desk. “It is time to discuss your simulation.” She leaned over and pushed a button on her desk and the entire wall behind her flickered to life. It was a recap screen, smaller than the one in the recap review room, but still impressive. It showed a split screen; on the left was a frozen image of Elliot crouched in a blacksmith’s shop, and on the right was the image of that big meeting I’d Glitched into.

  This was going to be ten kinds of terrible, I thought, crossing my arms over my chest. My mother slipped out from behind the facade of Commander Fitz for a second to shoot me a disapproving glance, and I immediately unfolded them and placed them on the chair’s armrests. No use making this worse for myself than it already was.

  “You will watch your recap, and then we will address some of the issues that came up during this test,” Commander Fitz said, and hit play.

  The beginning was fine. I had to admit that Elliot’s quick thinking was pretty impressive, while I bumbled around, obviously clueless about what was going on or where exactly I was. To my credit, though, I did find my way onto the correct ship just in time to see Elliot hack into his own leg. The previous split screen melded into one as our simulation test collided in a bloody mess.

  I glanced at Elliot from the corner of my eye to see his reaction to this, but his face didn’t give anything away. I wondered who’d taught him not to fidget, because he was doing a killer impression of a statue. Although his face was looking almost as pale as the version of himself on the screen, so he wasn’t a complete robot. I should have found this comforting, but I didn’t. I wondered again why, of all the people at the Academy, my future self had thought it was a good idea to lump me with this guy. Why Elliot Mason? Remembering the letter made my insides squirm.

  The simulation jumped back to a split screen as I stomped away from Elliot and followed the Butterfly belowdecks. What would my mom say if she knew that her own daughter was a time-traveling criminal? That one of the only reasons I’d spotted the Butterfly on the screen, or the one in the Lincoln simulation for that matter, was because I’d been tipped off by my future self.

  I clenched my jaw as I watched the Butterfly slosh lamp oil over the dry wood of the ship. I’d stopped watching Elliot’s side of the screen, but I tuned back in in time to see him grab the two chamber pots and heave them at the flames. Professor Green and the mystery professor grimaced as my on-screen self was drenched. Commander Fitz didn’t so much as flinch. Elliot smiled. Jerk.

  It took everything in me to stay sitting calmly in my seat as the simulation careened from bad to worse. Finally, mercifully, the screen went dark.

  “Is there a winner?” Elliot asked, and I glanced over at him in surprise. It wasn’t like him to blurt out something like that. He was sitting ramrod straight in his chair, his eyes on the panel of professors. He always sat like he’d attached a steel pole to his spine, but it was even worse now. He wanted that win in the worst possible way, and for a half second I felt bad about ruining his chances. But then I remembered the Cocoon and the “sounds like a you problem” and the chamber pots, and I stopped feeling bad.

  “There is not,” said Commander Fitz. “I’m sorry, Cadet Mason, but this test did not count as an advancement point.”

  “But it’s not my fault that she tackled me!” he said.

  “Cadet Fitz’s interference is not why you did not earn your point,” she said. “It is, however, the reason why you are both moving to a different branch of the Academy.”

  “What?” Elliot and I both yelped at the same time.

  Commander Fitz held up a hand to stop us, and we both snapped our mouths shut. She turned to the mysterious professor on her left and motioned him forward. “Professor Callaway will explain, since this is his area of expertise.”

  I stared at Professor Callaway, trying to place him. Had he ever been to our house for dinner? What could his area of expertise be?

  “Today was a test,” said Professor Callaway, looking from Elliot to me and back again. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. No kidding it was a test. Who was this guy?

  “To be more accurate, it was a test within a tes
t,” he went on. “On the surface, today’s simulation test was just another opportunity for advancement points, but for the last year or so, there has been another test embedded within each of these simulation tests. It was designed to see if you would let your own triumph and success get in the way of a successful mission, or if you’d work together for a common goal. One of the downsides to the current program is the competition element. We realized a few years ago that while we were turning out excellent Glitchers, those Glitchers often ignored other Glitchers in their need to succeed. That resulted in more than one failed mission and even the loss of some of our best and brightest. So, around five years ago, we started a new program to see if we could develop Glitchers who could work in collaboration with one another for the greater good. To further that end, and as a way to test our theory, we found two young Glitchers who we could train as the first partner team. Those Glitchers lived together, trained together, and worked together until they could finish one another’s sentences. It was a test program and as such has been kept under wraps, so to speak.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, holding up my hand. “You mean that our top secret Academy has another even more top secret layer?”

  Professor Callaway chuckled. “That about sums it up, Cadet Fitz, but like I was saying,” he went on, “that first partner pair just graduated from our prototype program and entered active duty, and they are surpassing their single counterparts in almost every way. Especially when it comes to identifying and taking down members of Mayhem. As such, we have recently received the go-ahead to make the program permanent. I’ve been sitting in on all the simulation level tests to watch for compatible matchups.”

  “So, we failed on an epic level,” I said flatly.

  “On the contrary,” Callaway said. “You two scored off the charts for partner compatibility. Your strengths and weaknesses complement one another nicely, and had it not been for your rather unusual brand of teamwork, the entire simulation mission would have been lost.”

  “What are you saying exactly?” Elliot asked.

  “I’m saying that you have both been admitted into the Lewis and Clark partner program.” Callaway grinned expectantly at us, obviously waiting for us to cheer or hug him or something. He was about to be sorely disappointed.

  Elliot stood up again. “And if we refuse the position?”

  Professor Callaway shook his head. “I’m afraid you can’t. The Academy has made their decision. This is an honor not given to everyone, Cadet Mason.”

  “The honor I wanted was to beat the record for youngest cadet to advance,” he said. “Are you saying that’s just gone?”

  “I know you were eager to beat my record,” Commander Fitz said, “but you will just have to be content with being the youngest partner pair admitted to the program. The other partner pairs have all been taken from cadet levels above your own.”

  “Fine,” Elliot said. “Then I want a different partner. Anyone but her.” He pointed a finger at the side of my head, and I scowled at him.

  “I’m not too thrilled about you either,” I said as I gave his finger a shove that I hoped hurt. I turned back to the panel. “What about personality compatibility? You have to take that into account too, right?”

  My mom’s eyes narrowed slightly at my tone, and I swallowed hard.

  “No, Cadet Fitz, ensuring the safety and security of our future is not dependent on whether or not you enjoy your partner’s personality. What matters is whether or not you can work together successfully, and everything shows that you two have the capacity to do that. Whether or not you decide to make it easier on yourselves and get along? Well, that’s on you.”

  “But this doesn’t make any sense,” Elliot went on. “I’m at the top of my class and everyone knows Regan is . . .” He trailed off, and I shot Elliot a dirty look.

  “Is what?” I asked. “Go ahead. Say it.” But Elliot’s eyes flicked up to my mom and then back to me, and he just shook his head.

  “Cadet Mason,” Callaway said, his tone making it clear that this discussion was over. “You may be at the top of your class, but your evaluators have found you sorely lacking when it comes to gut instinct and intuition. You can only learn so much from studying. A large part of being a successful Glitcher is inherent. What Cadet Fitz lacks in academic retention and self-control,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me that earned him a few chuckles from Professor Green, “she makes up for with an uncanny innate ability to spot a Butterfly without any visible signs of a time discrepancy.” I scowled even though I knew that tackling another Glitcher showed an extreme lack of self-control. In my defense, I’d been covered in sewage, so my judgment might not have been at its best.

  “You begin tomorrow,” Callaway went on. “You will both move into a separate barracks just for cadets in the L and C program. You are one of only three sets chosen to work in the program, and I’m sure you will make us all proud.” He looked like he was about to sit down, but then he stopped and turned back to smile at us. “Oh, and cadets. While we found your simulation test to be most amusing and the use of chamber pots to be inventive and resourceful, please remember that from now on you are a team. If one of you fails, you both fail. There is no going back to the regular Academy track after this.” He sat back down as goose bumps prickled up my neck like spiders. No going back. The very same words that had been in the Cocoon.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Elliot

  I stomped back toward my room to start packing. My future, a future where I rose to glory on the back of my own hard work and devotion to Glitching, had just gone up in smoke. All the extra hours studying, the extra time in the simulation rooms, the extra books and essays I’d read on every obscure historical event known to man didn’t matter. Because now I was saddled with a parasite of a partner. My mind jumped to the Cocoon, and I felt a fresh surge of anger. Obviously, those future versions of ourselves had known that we were going to end up in the stupid partner program, so why hadn’t they just told us what was coming?

  I stopped dead in my tracks as a realization hit me like an oncoming train. This whole thing wouldn’t have happened without that Cocoon. That letter had caused a domino effect of events that pitted Regan against me in a simulation test that just so happened to also be testing for compatibility for the partner program. What had Callaway called it? The Lewis and Clark partner program?

  Suddenly I felt light-headed, and I made my way off the main path I’d been walking to take a seat at one of the stone benches that peppered the campus. People called out to me, but I ignored everyone, lost in my own angry bubble as I sat there stewing. Because try as I might, I couldn’t find a way to be mad at just Regan and ignore the fact that I was the one who picked up that letter in the hall. I was the one who just had to show it to her to demand answers she didn’t have. Why hadn’t I just chucked it directly into the trash?

  Now I was going to have to pack up and move into a dorm with Fitz of all people. With a resigned sigh I shoved myself to my feet and headed toward the dorm I’d called home for most of my life.

  Still lost in my preoccupation, I was almost surprised when I found myself back at my door. I unlocked it and slammed it shut behind me for good measure. I was just contemplating opening it so I could slam it shut again when a sharp knock behind me about made me jump out of my skin. Whirling, I saw Regan standing outside my window.

  I moved over to stand in front of my window without making any move to open it. “What do you want?” I asked.

  “Let me in,” she said.

  “No,” I said.

  This brought her up short, and she glared at me through the glass. “Why?” she said.

  “Because I don’t want to,” I said.

  Regan scowled and then took a step back. “Fine,” she said, her voice suddenly louder than before. “We can just discuss the letter out here then!” As I hurried to unlock the window, I had the absurd thought that if we ever played chicken, she’d win by a landslide.

  “What are
you doing here?” I said.

  “I followed you back,” she said, coming into my room. “Not that you noticed,” she said, peering at my bookshelf as she wandered around. “Although that really isn’t saying much. I could have lit a rocket off under you and you wouldn’t have noticed. You have impressive tunnel vision, my friend.”

  “I am not your friend,” I said, removing the book she’d just picked up from her hands. I didn’t like her touching my things.

  “You’re right,” she said, turning to face me, arms crossed. “I’m not your friend. I’m your partner. So you could consider not being such a grade-A jerk.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “As opposed to a grade-B jerk?”

  She rolled her eyes and huffed in exasperation, taking the book back out of my hand and chucking it haphazardly onto the bed. “You know what I mean,” she said. “I’m willing to put your horrendous behavior at the fountain behind us in the interest of starting off fresh.”

  “That wasn’t horrendous behavior,” I said. “That was what you call self-preservation.” I glanced around my room nervously, although if this room was monitored, the security officers would have arrested me the minute I opened that stupid life-ruining Cocoon last night.

  “It’s safe,” Regan said as though she was reading my mind. When she saw my expression, she shrugged. “For the most part, dorm rooms aren’t monitored. Besides, I already checked the database in my mom’s office to make sure yours was camera free.”

  “When did you do that?” I asked.

  “Last night after you left me at the fountain with your oh so charismatic sounds like a you problem comment.”

  I shrugged. “Grade-A jerk, remember? Anyways, about the letter,” I said, and then paused, biting my lip as I considered the domino of events that were already in motion.

  “What about it?” Regan prompted. “You look like your brain just took a wrong turn and fell off a cliff.”

  “Do you realize that without that letter, we never would have gotten stuck in this stupid partner program?” I asked.