other side of the room, talking to Mike Weber. Her hair’s curled today, blond waves down her back. Of course she doesn’t even look at me.
But then I don’t want her to. That’s so over, and I’m glad. I’m way more interested in Rachel … if she’ll ever talk to me again.
I drop into a seat in front of Eric, so I won’t have to look at him and pretend more.
There’s so much going on, in all parts of my life, that it feels like my brain might spontaneously explode. I have to not freak out.
* * *
The next period is study hall. It’s my self-study research period for my senior project—Dr. Mathis, the vice principal, approved it special, so I could have a shot at Stanford. Time to go hang at the cemetery and work on my research.
I can’t think of a justification for Eric to follow me there.
I zip up my coat and trek outside, down the street, and through the familiar gates. It’s different today. It’s still bare, the grass still brown. But the snow melted over the weekend, and it doesn’t feel sad anymore, or creepy, like it did with that guy chasing me through it. Today I have it to myself again, and it’s comforting. Like all these people—friends, almost, I’ve read so many of their stories, sat at their gravestones—went through worse than I have going, and they’re past it now. This is my place.
“Hi, Jake.”
My shoulders sag. I turn, slowly. Eric stands inside the gate, hands in his pockets.
“Hey there, Eric.”
“Ed. You’re going to have to watch that. I’m Ed now.”
I sigh, rub at my chin wearily. “How did you even get permission to be out here?”
“Does it matter? We need to talk. It’s a good time, great place. Is the caretaker here?”
I shake my head, not even bothering to wonder how he knows about Pete. “He’s here Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday in the winter. Sometimes Fridays.”
Like last Friday, when he saved me from that goon. I wish Pete were here now. But this one I have to deal with myself.
“Good,” Eric says. “Then we’ll have the other days to work. Lesson one: be aware of surveillance. A place this open, you have to watch out for satellites.”
I look up instinctively, as if I’ll see a red-lit camera trained on us from the sky, like a UFO. There’s nothing but gray heavy clouds. Looks like snow later. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not kidding, mate. We don’t want to attract some analyst’s attention that something’s changed. We need to either do exactly what you normally do, or find a good cover somewhere. I prefer the latter, especially today.”
I want answers anyway. “I have someplace. Follow me.”
I take him up the main drive, past Pete’s little office building, around a couple corners. There it is: the Barker mausoleum. Huge, gray stone, with an iron gate across the front with a big padlock. The place reminds me of Buffy —like a Big Bad vampire is going to crawl out sometime, and I’ll get to witness a major ass kicking. Unfortunately it’s just a stone room with slabs and inscriptions. But I do have a key.
Eric—Ed—is thrilled. It’s private, well covered from satellites, and apparently hard to bug because of the thickness of the walls. But he doesn’t have too much time for his spy giddiness before I round on him.
“So. You want to tell me who you really are, Ed ? I thought you were an EEG tech. Why are you in my school?”
He grins. “I said I wasn’t a doctor. I didn’t say what I was. As of now, I’m Ed Hanson. Fellow student, to them. Your primary DARPA handler, along with Ana Delgado, who will be stationed in your home. But you probably knew that.”
Handler . Great. Good to know the terminology.
“And what’s your job as my handler? To follow me around 24/7?” The thick walls trap the cold in, forcing it into my bones. I shiver and lean against the wall. It’s even colder.
“To route work to you, for one. You’ll work directly through the two of us. But primarily my job is to keep
But then I don’t want her to. That’s so over, and I’m glad. I’m way more interested in Rachel … if she’ll ever talk to me again.
I drop into a seat in front of Eric, so I won’t have to look at him and pretend more.
There’s so much going on, in all parts of my life, that it feels like my brain might spontaneously explode. I have to not freak out.
* * *
The next period is study hall. It’s my self-study research period for my senior project—Dr. Mathis, the vice principal, approved it special, so I could have a shot at Stanford. Time to go hang at the cemetery and work on my research.
I can’t think of a justification for Eric to follow me there.
I zip up my coat and trek outside, down the street, and through the familiar gates. It’s different today. It’s still bare, the grass still brown. But the snow melted over the weekend, and it doesn’t feel sad anymore, or creepy, like it did with that guy chasing me through it. Today I have it to myself again, and it’s comforting. Like all these people—friends, almost, I’ve read so many of their stories, sat at their gravestones—went through worse than I have going, and they’re past it now. This is my place.
“Hi, Jake.”
My shoulders sag. I turn, slowly. Eric stands inside the gate, hands in his pockets.
“Hey there, Eric.”
“Ed. You’re going to have to watch that. I’m Ed now.”
I sigh, rub at my chin wearily. “How did you even get permission to be out here?”
“Does it matter? We need to talk. It’s a good time, great place. Is the caretaker here?”
I shake my head, not even bothering to wonder how he knows about Pete. “He’s here Tuesday/Thursday/Saturday in the winter. Sometimes Fridays.”
Like last Friday, when he saved me from that goon. I wish Pete were here now. But this one I have to deal with myself.
“Good,” Eric says. “Then we’ll have the other days to work. Lesson one: be aware of surveillance. A place this open, you have to watch out for satellites.”
I look up instinctively, as if I’ll see a red-lit camera trained on us from the sky, like a UFO. There’s nothing but gray heavy clouds. Looks like snow later. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not kidding, mate. We don’t want to attract some analyst’s attention that something’s changed. We need to either do exactly what you normally do, or find a good cover somewhere. I prefer the latter, especially today.”
I want answers anyway. “I have someplace. Follow me.”
I take him up the main drive, past Pete’s little office building, around a couple corners. There it is: the Barker mausoleum. Huge, gray stone, with an iron gate across the front with a big padlock. The place reminds me of Buffy —like a Big Bad vampire is going to crawl out sometime, and I’ll get to witness a major ass kicking. Unfortunately it’s just a stone room with slabs and inscriptions. But I do have a key.
Eric—Ed—is thrilled. It’s private, well covered from satellites, and apparently hard to bug because of the thickness of the walls. But he doesn’t have too much time for his spy giddiness before I round on him.
“So. You want to tell me who you really are, Ed ? I thought you were an EEG tech. Why are you in my school?”
He grins. “I said I wasn’t a doctor. I didn’t say what I was. As of now, I’m Ed Hanson. Fellow student, to them. Your primary DARPA handler, along with Ana Delgado, who will be stationed in your home. But you probably knew that.”
Handler . Great. Good to know the terminology.
“And what’s your job as my handler? To follow me around 24/7?” The thick walls trap the cold in, forcing it into my bones. I shiver and lean against the wall. It’s even colder.
“To route work to you, for one. You’ll work directly through the two of us. But primarily my job is to keep
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