by Laura Martin
What it brought was a grumpy Elliot. Which shouldn’t have been a huge surprise, but it was still a bummer to sit down to my first breakfast at the mountain to his scowling face.
“Good morning,” I chirped with a wide smile as I set my tray of eggs and toast down next to his.
“Debatable,” he said, stabbing another piece of egg onto his fork. I sighed as I dug into my own breakfast. Different location, same old Elliot. Since my dining partner left a lot to be desired, I glanced around the room. The other kids in the program were still in line to get their breakfasts, and behind us, Callaway was sitting at a small table with some of the other mountain faculty. Compared to the expansive staff of the Academy, the mountain was run and maintained by just a small group of professors, a handful of security officers, a few tech specialists, a cook, and a housekeeper. Apparently, they all ate together. It was a sharp contrast to what I’d grown up watching. Callaway sat side by side with the techs and the cook as their equal and friend. Everyone knew he was in charge, but he was also genuinely liked by everyone at that table. Although, as I listened to his big booming laugh fill the cavernous room, it wasn’t hard to see why.
Looking back over at Elliot, I noticed that someone had dropped off the day’s schedule, and he was frowning down at it like it had just personally insulted him.
“You know if you’re not careful your face is going to freeze like that,” I said.
“Like what?” he asked.
“Like you just ate something rotten,” I said.
“It’s not the same,” he said, throwing the schedule down in disgust.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“What I mean is that apparently our schedule is different every day. How in the world are you supposed to plan for that?”
“Um, like this?” I said, grabbing the schedule so I could read it. It was indeed different from the day before, and I was happy to see that the mountain’s version of my favorite Sherlock class, officially called Observation and Nuance, was that afternoon.
“Did you notice it yet?” he asked as I wrinkled my nose at the double study block on Pearl Harbor scheduled first thing that morning.
“Notice what?” I asked. Reaching over, I plucked his toast off his plate and took a bite.
“Stop that,” he said, snatching it back. He ripped off the piece I’d bitten and took a bite of the remaining toast. “The paper,” he said, so quietly I almost didn’t catch it.
“We are the only ones at the table,” I pointed out. “You don’t really need to whisper.”
Elliot grabbed the schedule, crumpled it up, and dropped it into my cup of water. Before I could protest, the entire wad dissolved. My heart gave a startled lurch, and the bite of toast I’d stolen stuck in my throat. I stared at my water for another second before reaching over to take a swig of Elliot’s.
“Hey,” he protested.
“Sorry,” I said, “but you polluted mine. What was I supposed to do?”
“Have some manners,” he grumbled. “For someone raised with a silver spoon in her mouth you sure don’t act like it.”
“Thank you,” I said, peering inside the glass even though I knew that paper was long gone. “What do you think that means?” I asked.
Elliot shrugged. “No idea. But the mystery of where our future selves get the weird disappearing paper is solved.”
“What’s going on?” Tess said, setting her tray down and sliding in next to me. Elliot and I both jumped guiltily, and she paused mid-bite to raise a questioning eyebrow at us.
“Nothing,” I said, a hair too quickly.
“We just discovered that the schedule dissolves in water,” Elliot said. “It’s kind of bizarre.”
“Oh, that,” Tess said, tossing her red hair behind her shoulder. “Most of the products we use here in the mountain dissolve in water. That way we have very little waste to deal with.”
“Smart,” Elliot said, turning his attention back to his eggs.
“So, before you dissolved the schedule, what did it say?” she asked. The rest of our new classmates sat down, and Elliot began to recite the schedule with perfect accuracy. As I watched him, I couldn’t help but be a little impressed. Not that I’d ever tell him that. Everyone groaned at the mention of the double block of studying, and I smiled, enjoying the camaraderie.
“You didn’t do half bad on your first partner sim,” Corban said around a mouthful of eggs.
“He’s only saying that because he and Blake bombed their first practice sim so badly that Callaway almost sent them back to the Academy,” Tess said with an exaggerated wink at her cousin Eliana.
“Don’t listen to a word Tess says,” Blake said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “Rumor has it that she landed face-first in a cow pie on her first sim test. BLAM! Face full of cow poop.”
Tess sniffed and took a bite of her toast. “It was horse poop,” she said.
“Right,” Blake said. “Because that’s so much better.”
“The point is,” said Corban with a smile, “we all have to start somewhere, and all things considered, you two did great.”
“So, do you actually like it here?” Elliot said. “Or are you just making the best of things?”
Corban shrugged. “It’s fine,” he said. “The food at the Academy was a bit better, but the mountain’s cool.”
“And you don’t hate being stuck with a partner,” Elliot said, making it very clear in his tone that he thought Corban was delusional.
“I’m right here,” I said, elbowing him in the ribs.
“Like I could forget,” Elliot muttered, and Corban laughed.
“You two are going to be fun to watch,” he said.
“Fun like a train wreck,” Elliot said, and Blake snorted orange juice out of his nose all over Corban’s shoulder.
The conversation turned into a debate about crunchy versus soggy bacon, but I was too preoccupied with replaying that paper dissolving right in front of my eyes to contribute. Did that mean that the future Elliot and Regan were still in the mountain? It must. The twinge of fear that always came from thinking about that letter curled up inside my stomach like a snake waiting to strike.
“Come on,” Elliot said a few minutes later, jarring me from my own thoughts as he stood up.
“What?” I asked, but a second later I saw that we were the last ones at the table and everyone else was emptying their trays and heading toward the far side of the atrium.
“Move it,” Elliot said. “I’m not going to be late.” I raised an eyebrow at him, and he narrowed his eyes. “If you’re late, I’m pretty sure that means I’m late too. Right, partner?”
“Quick question,” I said as we hurried across the main atrium toward the library section.
“What’s that?”
“Are you always going to say the word partner like it tastes bad?”
Elliot sighed, and to my surprise he turned to me, a grim look of determination on his face. “No,” he said. “I’m trying to be better.”
I couldn’t help myself; I snorted right in his face.
“I am!” he said with a grimace as he wiped the flecks of spit off his cheek. “But you don’t make it very easy, you know.”
“Right back at you,” I said. “Although I didn’t mean to spit on you. My bad.”
He just rolled his eyes as we entered the library. The library took up one pie slice of the atrium, but it felt bigger than the other parts somehow. As I walked between the shelves, it was easy to imagine I was back in the palatial Academy library with its levels upon levels of books. That comparison stopped short when I discovered a fireplace crackling merrily at the back of the room. Overstuffed chairs were clustered around with a table between each. Tess and Eliana were already settled in one set each with a large volume open on their laps while Corban and Blake were busy scrolling tablets, ignoring the books sitting between them. Remembering what had happened last time, I waited to see which empty set of chairs Elliot would choose. He looked between th
e few remaining sets, his forehead scrunched in thought, before finally choosing the ones closest to the fire, and the farthest away from everyone else. I followed and grabbed the seat next to him. The chairs were surprisingly comfortable, a far cry from the hard wooden ones back at the Academy.
I’m not sure how long Elliot and I sat there, lost in our own thoughts as we waited for a professor to begin the class, before I realized that we were the only ones waiting. Finally, I leaned over and poked Eliana’s arm. She looked up from the book she’d been reading, eyebrow cocked.
“When does the professor get here?” I whispered.
Tess looked up from her book and smiled at us. “There is no professor for a study block,” she said. “We study with our partners.”
“I was afraid it was something like that,” Elliot grumbled, and I felt a heavy book land in my lap. Looking over, I saw that Corban and Blake were quietly talking as they pored over something on Corban’s tablet. Tess and Eliana were already back in their own little world of studying. With a resigned sigh, I stared down at the book Elliot had handed me. It was called All the Gallant Men: An American Sailor’s Firsthand Account of Pearl Harbor by Donald Stratton. A quick glance at Elliot revealed his nose buried in the exact same book.
“Read the first three chapters and then we can quiz each other,” he said, his eyes never leaving the page. Feeling resigned, I opened it up. The words in the book were tiny, and they marched across the page like overly industrious ants. Firsthand accounts of history were the bread and butter of the Glitching world, and I was lucky this one wasn’t in someone’s scrawling handwriting or in a crusty old journal that smelled like mouse poop. Still, I stared at those little ant words uncomprehendingly for a while before shutting the book and grabbing the tablet perched on the table beside me. A quick search in the database pulled up the exact same book, and I tabbed through to the first page, making sure the words were enlarged as much as possible. Elliot, meanwhile, flipped through page after page of the firsthand account, ignoring me completely. I tried to read again and made some progress this time. Slow progress, but progress all the same. The words tried to jumble themselves up and reorder themselves, but I willed them back into place and read on. The firsthand account was a good one, and I was just getting into it when Elliot tapped me on the shoulder.
“Ready?” he asked.
“For what?” I asked, blinking at him as I resurfaced from the sailor’s story.
“To quiz,” he said, and I saw that the other partner pairs were doing just that. What were they? Reading ninjas?
“I’m not ready yet,” I said. My face felt hot, and I knew I was blushing like an idiot.
“Why?” Elliot asked, all impatience and judgmental furrowed eyebrows. He could just put those eyebrows away, I thought grouchily as I looked back down at my screen. I was on page five. That was it. He stared holes into my head while I studiously ignored him, but he finally got the picture and went back to his own book with a sigh. A lifetime later I set the tablet down and tapped him on the shoulder.
“I’m ready,” I said.
“Were you reading the book or writing a book?” he grumbled, but before I could say something back, he pulled out a notebook and started asking questions rapid fire.
“What was the exact time the first plane was spotted?” he said, looking up expectantly.
“In the morning,” I replied.
“Exact time,” he said.
“Early morning,” I said.
“Are you serious right now?” he asked, setting down the notebook.
“Serious as the grave,” I said. “Fine, Mr. Know-it-All, what time was it?”
“Seven fifty-five a.m.,” he said flatly.
“Right.” I nodded and glanced back down at tablet in front of me, my brain scrambling for a question I could ask him. I’d prefer it to be something really hard so he got it wrong, but after firing back what I assumed was a real doozy at him and having him answer it with ease, I realized that maybe that was destined to be my role in this relationship. Which was just peachy.
The entire study session took a header after that, with Elliot getting more and more frustrated until I began to worry that he was going to chuck the book at my head. While normally frustrating Elliot was one of my favorite pastimes, today it just made me feel stupid. Right when I thought that I couldn’t stand another minute of this torture, Callaway showed up, his characteristic smile on his face.
“Regan, if you’d come with me, please?” he said. I glanced over at Elliot, but he just threw up his hands in a please take her away sort of way that made me feel about two inches tall. Thankful for the escape, I put down my tablet and hurried to follow Callaway out of the library section. He led me quickly across the main atrium and down a hallway and into a tiny room I could only assume was his office. It was either that or a broom closet, I thought as I squeezed inside and into the tiny chair Callaway offered me. Without preamble, he pulled out a tablet, typed a few things in, and handed it to me. Before I could ask what was going on, my mom appeared on the screen.
Chapter Twenty-One
Elliot
Regan didn’t come back for the rest of the study session. Which was best for all involved since throttling your partner with your bare hands was probably frowned upon. I glowered over my book at the other partners as they cheerily talked through what they read and took turns quizzing one another. Tess and Eliana reminded me of bookends with their matching red hair and smiles, and even Corban and Blake seemed to go together somehow despite the fact that their appearances were as polar opposite as humanly possible. Why Regan? I wondered for the millionth time since picking up that letter. Every time I thought I’d put my annoyance with that girl behind me, something like this would happen and it would all come rushing back. Where in the world had Callaway taken her? If anyone needed more study time, it was Regan.
Just when I was good and boiling, the double study period ended. Nuance and Observation was next, but no one actually called it that, at least not back at the Academy, where it was always referred to as the Sherlock class. As I followed the other kids out of the library and across the atrium, I could see that they had tried to re-create the circular theatrical seating of the Academy on a smaller scale. A small platform rotated in the middle of the classroom with desks clustered around it in a circle.
“So what’s your favorite century?” Eliana asked, coming to walk on one side of me while Tess commandeered the spot on my other side. I suddenly understood what the ham felt like on a ham sandwich, and I didn’t like it.
“What?” I said taken off guard.
“Your favorite century,” Eliana repeated. “You know, like mine is the early 1900s, but Tess really likes the 1600s.”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’ve never thought about it.”
“Really?” Tess said.
“Really,” I said, but they didn’t go away. They kept me solidly between themselves as we walked across the atrium, insisting that I swing by the dining tables with them to snag an apple out of one of the bowls of fruit that had appeared there. I did, even though my insides were still too knotted with anger to be very hungry. Finally, they left me alone to go use the restroom before class, and I heaved an audible sigh of relief.
“They want to be your friends,” Corban said, coming to stand in the same spot where Tess had been just moments before.
“I don’t want them to be my friends,” I said.
“You say that like you have a choice,” Blake said.
I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t?”
“Not if you want to make a go of it here,” Corban said. “This place is too small to avoid people. Don’t worry about it, though; the girls are cool. Tess is practically a genius, although she’d never tell you that, and Eliana is uncanny when it comes to getting the Chaos Cuffs on a Butterfly. She’s so quick it’s like watching a snake strike. Blam, snap, click and the Butterfly is standing there wondering what hit them. Of course, she’s an absolute disa
ster at actually identifying Butterflies, but she’s working on it. Regardless, she’ll give you a lesson any time you want to.” He clapped me a hair too hard on the back and together he and Blake walked over to Tess, who was chatting with one of the professors like they were old friends. This place just keeps getting weirder and weirder, I thought, turning back toward the Nuance and Observation classroom.
To my surprise, Serina and Sam were already in two of the seats, and I found my eyes drawn to them. It wasn’t that I’d never been around active Glitchers before, it was just that I’d never been around ones so young. Seeing them made my future more tangible somehow, and I felt a shiver of excitement race up my spine. That excitement was doused a moment later when I remembered that my future was no longer just mine—it was forever tangled with Regan’s.
Serina and Sam must have come straight from another mission because Sam was dressed head to toe in the gear of a soldier from World War I, and Serina was in a matching nurse’s uniform. Both of them were liberally coated in mud and what was probably blood. I wrinkled my nose and chose the seat as far away from them as humanly possible. While I appreciated their commitment to furthering their education, the fact that they hadn’t showered before joining the class grossed me out.
Everyone else took their seats and a moment later a man who I could only assume was Professor O’Reilly sauntered into the room. He was dressed in the uniform of a British soldier, his bright red jacket neat and pressed over tight-fitting pants and high black boots. Immediately, all eyes focused in. He walked casually around the perimeter of the circle, allowing everyone a closer look before stopping in the middle of the platform.