Read Online Disney in Shadow by Ridley Pearson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ridley Pearson
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lot, in my opinion.”
“Jess only got part of the picture.”
“We don’t know that. I mean…I know what you’re saying, it’s like half drawn, but we don’t exactly know what’s real and what isn’t. We never have. Right? I’m supposed to believe this is real. You kidding me? A couple holograms talking to each other. Who knows, Whitman? Maybe you know what you’re doing. But maybe you don’t. In which case this is a big waste of time.”
He sounded so matter-of-fact, so convinced. Finn found it depressing. He looked around, hoping someone else—anyone—had arrived. The place was empty.
“We voted,” Finn reminded. He didn’t want Maybeck thinking he’d forced this on them.
“Yeah, yeah. And I was the minority. Imagine that.”
“You’re mad about it.”
“Not true. Chill. I’m along for the ride, dude. Baa baa black sheep, that’s me. I’m going along with you.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You know.”
“Point out that we’re different?” Maybeck asked.
“Make a deal out of it.”
“It’s me, Whitman. It’s like Philby and his brain, or Charlene being hot. I’m not saying that makes me special, but I’m different from the rest of you and I’m not going to dance around it as if it isn’t there. I’m African American. So what? Right? There’s good parts of that and bad parts of that, but I’m not going to pretend I’m white and I’m not going to not talk about it just to make you comfortable.”
“I’ll tell you something: I don’t think of you as African American. I don’t even see that part of you anymore. Maybe I’m supposed to, maybe it’s disrespectful not to, but I just see you as…Maybeck. Listen, there are kids at school…you know who I’m talking about. They try to be…cool. They make a big deal about listening to rap, wear the lowriders, talk ghetto talk. I hate that kind of stuff. They want to act like they’re something special. But then there’s you calling yourself a black sheep and making these little jabs and reminders like I owe you something for who you are, what you are—and I don’t get that. I just end up not knowing which is the real you.”
Maybeck eyed him. “So how cool am I?” he asked.
“Shut up,” Finn said, smiling.
“Ultracool, smokin’ cool, plain old cool?”
“Uncool,” Finn said. “Did you mishear me?”
“I heard you okay, Whitman.”
Philby arrived. He was lying down on the grass behind Maybeck. He spoke as if they were already in midconversation. “It’s a cryptogram.” He held a piece of paper in his hand. He waved it as he sat up. The edges of his image were sparking.
Finn was having the same problem: a strange static coming off him.
“What is?” Finn asked.
“The letters behind Wayne’s head are a cryptogram.”
“Is that supposed to be some sort of hypnosis?” asked Maybeck.
“A code,” Philby said.
“A letter code,” said Finn.
“Exactly.”
“An engram?” said Maybeck.
“Anagram?” Philby said, correcting him. “No. A cryptogram substitutes letters of the alphabet for one another. It’s like spy stuff. Tricky-to-solve stuff used by the CIA and people like that.”
“How tricky?” asked Finn.
“Seriously harsh,” said Philby. “And because it’s Wayne, I’m thinking it’ll be tough toenails. But if it’s for real, if it really is Wayne, and he somehow knew Jess would dream it—and I know you believe that, Finn, but I’m not so sure I do—then he’d make it solvable. At least I think he would. He’d know I’m on it. And he’d know I’d Google it and find sites that could help decipher it.”
Since Philby had been working with Wayne when Wayne had been captured, he blamed himself for it. He’d dragged around for the first couple of weeks after the event, only snapping out of it when Finn had suggested they start trying to find him by crossing over into the Magic Kingdom.
Philby had supported Finn’s call for the sisters to become DHIs
“Jess only got part of the picture.”
“We don’t know that. I mean…I know what you’re saying, it’s like half drawn, but we don’t exactly know what’s real and what isn’t. We never have. Right? I’m supposed to believe this is real. You kidding me? A couple holograms talking to each other. Who knows, Whitman? Maybe you know what you’re doing. But maybe you don’t. In which case this is a big waste of time.”
He sounded so matter-of-fact, so convinced. Finn found it depressing. He looked around, hoping someone else—anyone—had arrived. The place was empty.
“We voted,” Finn reminded. He didn’t want Maybeck thinking he’d forced this on them.
“Yeah, yeah. And I was the minority. Imagine that.”
“You’re mad about it.”
“Not true. Chill. I’m along for the ride, dude. Baa baa black sheep, that’s me. I’m going along with you.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You know.”
“Point out that we’re different?” Maybeck asked.
“Make a deal out of it.”
“It’s me, Whitman. It’s like Philby and his brain, or Charlene being hot. I’m not saying that makes me special, but I’m different from the rest of you and I’m not going to dance around it as if it isn’t there. I’m African American. So what? Right? There’s good parts of that and bad parts of that, but I’m not going to pretend I’m white and I’m not going to not talk about it just to make you comfortable.”
“I’ll tell you something: I don’t think of you as African American. I don’t even see that part of you anymore. Maybe I’m supposed to, maybe it’s disrespectful not to, but I just see you as…Maybeck. Listen, there are kids at school…you know who I’m talking about. They try to be…cool. They make a big deal about listening to rap, wear the lowriders, talk ghetto talk. I hate that kind of stuff. They want to act like they’re something special. But then there’s you calling yourself a black sheep and making these little jabs and reminders like I owe you something for who you are, what you are—and I don’t get that. I just end up not knowing which is the real you.”
Maybeck eyed him. “So how cool am I?” he asked.
“Shut up,” Finn said, smiling.
“Ultracool, smokin’ cool, plain old cool?”
“Uncool,” Finn said. “Did you mishear me?”
“I heard you okay, Whitman.”
Philby arrived. He was lying down on the grass behind Maybeck. He spoke as if they were already in midconversation. “It’s a cryptogram.” He held a piece of paper in his hand. He waved it as he sat up. The edges of his image were sparking.
Finn was having the same problem: a strange static coming off him.
“What is?” Finn asked.
“The letters behind Wayne’s head are a cryptogram.”
“Is that supposed to be some sort of hypnosis?” asked Maybeck.
“A code,” Philby said.
“A letter code,” said Finn.
“Exactly.”
“An engram?” said Maybeck.
“Anagram?” Philby said, correcting him. “No. A cryptogram substitutes letters of the alphabet for one another. It’s like spy stuff. Tricky-to-solve stuff used by the CIA and people like that.”
“How tricky?” asked Finn.
“Seriously harsh,” said Philby. “And because it’s Wayne, I’m thinking it’ll be tough toenails. But if it’s for real, if it really is Wayne, and he somehow knew Jess would dream it—and I know you believe that, Finn, but I’m not so sure I do—then he’d make it solvable. At least I think he would. He’d know I’m on it. And he’d know I’d Google it and find sites that could help decipher it.”
Since Philby had been working with Wayne when Wayne had been captured, he blamed himself for it. He’d dragged around for the first couple of weeks after the event, only snapping out of it when Finn had suggested they start trying to find him by crossing over into the Magic Kingdom.
Philby had supported Finn’s call for the sisters to become DHIs
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