With the Enemy (10 page)

If this works, I realize, I could go home tonight.

I’m thinking about that, biting my nails and gazing out at the changing blue sky of the chilly morning, when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn and find Alonso standing there. His big brown eyes have smudges beneath them from lack of sleep.

He pushes the hair on his forehead to one side. “You said we could finish that conversation we were having yesterday.”

“What conversation?” I ask, and I don’t mean to play dumb because I really don’t remember. Then I do remember and I find that suddenly the prospect of walking right into the den of the enemy is appealing by comparison. In fact, I wish I were there right now.

“About me liking someone,” he says, completely ignoring the look of panic on my face. “You were right. I do.”

“That’s none of my business.”

“Here,” he says, thrusting a folded-up piece of paper into my hand.

“What is it?”

“It’s for luck. Don’t look at it until you’re on the bus.” He turns and walks away, hands in his pockets, shoulders kind of slouched, and I can’t help it. I think he looks adorable.

I stash the paper he gave me into my pocket and go back to biting my fingernails until Rosie, Louisa, and Ryan join me. We wave to Helen, Drew, and Alonso, who are huddled together over their phone, as if waiting to hear from us already. Then the four of us hike over to the bus stop, keeping our sweatshirts pulled far over our wrists to hide our missing ID bracelets.

The bus driver doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong with four kids boarding first thing in the morning. Louisa’s bus pass beeps once for each of us, we sit down, and the bus rumbles down the street.

We’re on our way.

I pull the piece of paper Alonso gave me out of my pocket and unfold it. Inside is one of those chalky hearts from the party store. The side facing me is blank but I turn it over. When I read the note, my chest gets tight.

You were right. I do have a crush on someone
.

The heart says,
IT’S U
.

The bus must be extra bumpy because my stomach is acting funny and my skin is weird and prickly all over. I feel alternately hot and cold and like I want to laugh and like there are tears in my eyes, especially when I remember the day before when I told him I knew he liked someone but she didn’t like him and —

I drop my head into my hands. I am such a moron.

“Are you okay?” Rosie asks me. I rewrap the heart and shove it quickly back into my pocket.

“Yeah, I’m just nervous.”

“Don’t be the weak link,” she quotes from the Phoenix Recitations.

“I must follow to lead,” I answer her. I feel like we should give some kind of secret handshake.

“I’m nervous, too,” she says. “I can’t wait until this is over.”

We’re silent for the rest of the ride and I find myself touching my pocket periodically to make sure the paper is still there.

Rosie, Louisa, and Ryan are all clearly on edge when the bus lets us off. We’re still a block from the Harold Washington Library aka Phoenix Center but we can see it, its massive brick structure looming in front of us.

Get in. Get Maddie. Get out. That’s all we have to do. Simple
.

I’m just thinking the building looks impossibly large when Rosie clamps down on my right arm, Louisa clamps down on my left one, and they drag me up the stairs toward the front door.

“Wait!” I yell, putting a dose of outrage into it. “What are you doing? Let me go! What —”

“Out of our way,” Louisa barks at the cadets standing on the stairs, staring. I turn to glance at her and the scowl she’s wearing makes her nearly unrecognizable. “We’ve got a flier! Let us through.”

T
he cadets step aside, gazing jealously at Rosie, Louisa, and Ryan. Bringing in a flier will earn them five points each and be written into their record. Helen told us all about it.

“Where are your scout badges?” demands a girl with milky-white skin and straight hair the color of corn. She has big blue eyes but they look hard and mean. I see that her nails have chipped black polish on them as she raises her fingers to fiddle with her whistle.

“Where they won’t tip the flier off,” Louisa says with a curl of her lip that’s scary. She’s kind of good at this.

The girl’s fingers leave the whistle but she doesn’t move.

Rosie gives her a fierce stare. “Is your name Mat?”

The girl’s eyes narrow. “No.”

“Then get out of my way before I walk over you,” Rosie says, and muscles us past her. The double doors marked
READMISSION
slide open with a pneumatic
whoosh
for us to go through.

The secretary on the other side is totally uninterested in us. “Take the flier to reconditioning room one,” she says, without looking up from her computer. There are three sets of doors in this room, all solid wood. The secretary pushes a button beneath her desk and the door marked
MAIN CAMPUS
clicks open.

We’re in.

Now we just need to avoid attracting attention. Rosie and Louisa let go of my arms and we all assume the eyes-forward, shoulders-straight posture Helen drilled into us. I can’t see a clock so I don’t know how long we have until the first bell rings, but the halls are full of kids. They are like the kids at CMS except everyone seems more serious and guarded. No one makes eye contact, but they all watch one another out of the corners of their eyes. When they pass they’ll nod or give a low wave but nothing more.

There are no groups of kids joking or hanging out together. I hear Helen’s voice.
The more people you trust, the more people can betray you. Cadets usually travel alone or in pairs
.

A boy and a girl are talking to each other, leaning against the wall, but they’re not looking at each other. Instead they’re watching everyone else as they pass and not, like in normal school, to see what they’re wearing or whom they’re talking to. More to see if they’re engaging in Reportable Behavior.

Rosie blends in pretty well. But even though she’s trying to look mean, Louisa’s excitement about being this close to finding Maddie seems to be coming off of her in waves. I’m terrified someone will notice.

Don’t do anything at first
, Helen said.
Be sure no one is paying unusual attention to you before trying to find your friend. And don’t trust anyone
.

A guy with skin a little lighter than mine and a crew cut falls into step next to Louisa. “Are you new, Cadet March? I don’t remember seeing you before.”

Louisa frowns like she’s wondering whom he is
talking to. Apparently she’s forgotten that her grandmother’s last name was March.

“Transferred in from upstate a few days ago,” Rosie answers for her. “Right, Cadet
March
?”

Louisa remembers her fake name. “Oh yeah. Right.”

“Ah, that explains the looking around like you’ve never seen the place before,” he says, eyes still on Louisa. He’s got the confidence of someone who thinks he’s handsome. And maybe he could be under other circumstances. “Can I help you find anything?”

Louisa blurts, “Do you know where Madeleine Frye is? Um, Cadet Frye?”

There’s a flash of surprise in the guy’s eyes, and then a calculating expression. “I don’t. Who’s that?”

“A friend from up north,” Rosie rushes to say. “We transferred together.”

The guy’s eyes move beyond Rosie to me, and then to Ryan behind us. He rubs a hand over his crew cut. I sense him making a note of how many of us there are, and I fall back slightly so it might not look like I’m with them.

“Sorry I can’t help,” he says. “I’ll stay alert.” He taps his eye.

Rosie taps her eye back. “Thanks.”

He turns and disappears into the crowd behind us. Louisa whispers, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“You have to be more careful,” Rosie hisses back.

Louisa’s shoulders sag slightly. At least now she is looking appropriately miserable.

“I know. Do you think he believed it?” she whispers.

As though answering her question, a whistle shrills behind us. Everyone stops and turns toward it.

My heart is pounding so loud I’m afraid everyone can hear it. Ryan and I are standing next to each other with Rosie and Louisa behind us now. I sense more than see Ryan plant his feet with purpose as though to say anyone who wants to mess with Louisa will have to go through him.

Around us the air simmers with excitement.

Rubber soles squelch up the corridor as a tall, sallow guy with dark hair and dark eyes comes toward us, spinning the whistle around his finger. He’s with a shorter
but beefier guy with a shaved head and a nose that looks like it has seen some action. Neither of them is the guy with the crew cut who talked to Louisa, but I see him farther down the corridor looking amused.

I hear Helen’s voice in my head.

If something happens, if you think they’re on to you, take off. Don’t give them the opportunity to get close. They’re faster than you are and meaner than you are and you won’t stand a chance
.

The sallow guy and the Nose continue walking toward us, and it feels like they are both staring right through me. I keep my eyes straight ahead but shift my weight onto my heels and get ready to run.

“Cadet Berger, where are your hands?” the sallow one’s voice demands.

In my mind I call up the memory of writing the fake names on our hoodies — Rosie is Marquez, Louisa is March, I am Weinberg, and Ryan is —

“In my pockets,” a voice croaks in front of me, and I glance down and see a short boy, probably only three feet tall, with curly light brown hair.

The sallow guy’s expression is mean, but he licks his lips like he’s getting ready to enjoy himself.

“And where should they be?”

The little boy answers, “By my sides.” It comes out as more of a squeak. He’s clearly terrified.

“What is the Phoenix motto?”

“My future. My fate. My hands,” the boy recites.

“Your future sure is your hands,” the sallow boy says with a low, mean laugh. The Nose snorts and they start off, the sallow one adding as an afterthought, “At ease, Cadet.”

Their path takes them past us and the sallow one brushes against Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan flinches and the Nose stops in front of him. “What are you looking at, Cadet?”

“Nothing, sir,” Ryan replies, gaze down. I see his fists flexing.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a dozen hands move instantly toward their whistles. Calling in the guards on a fight is an easy way to get points.

The Nose keeps staring at Ryan, chest out, like he’s daring Ryan to make a move, any move. Ryan’s neck and
ears are turning red but he stays completely still. I’m not even sure he’s breathing. I don’t know how he stands it but somehow he does.

Finally the sallow kid says, “Come on, Emile. We’ve had our fun for the day.”

The bully’s name is Emile! No wonder he’s so mean.

They continue by and the hands drop from the whistles and everyone goes back to what they were doing.

“Well done,” I whisper to Ryan. He doesn’t say anything; he’s still clenching his jaw.

“I want to get out of here,” Rosie says, and I’ve never seen her with the expression she has on her face. A guy our age goes by and she barks at him, “Attention!” He stops and salutes her, and she demands, “Do you know the location of Cadet Frye?”

“No, sir. I regret I do not, sir.”

“I do,” his friend says. He isn’t standing at attention. “I’ll tell you for a smile.”

“I’ll write you up for impudence, Cadet — What’s his name?” Rosie demands of the other one, who is still saluting.

“Greene, sir,” the saluting one offers, turning on his friend without blinking an eye.

“Cadet Greene, what is the location of Cadet Frye?”

“She is in the boiler. Sir,” he says, giving a weak salute.

“I have my eye on you,” Rosie tells him, making the tapping gesture again. “At ease.”

We’d moved slightly apart, and when Rosie rejoins us, she’s shaking. “I feel like I need to wash my mouth out.”

I nod. Acting like them, having to think like them, is making me feel creepy, too. “The boiler must be in one of the subbasements,” I say. “That’s where they always are in old buildings.”

“Good. Let’s figure out which one and get Maddie out of here now,” Louisa says, grimly. “I don’t even want to think about what she’s going through in here.”

“We should split up. We’ll find her faster,” Rosie says.

“But we only have one phone,” Ryan objects.

Then the bell rings for morning classes.

Our eyes meet and I know we’re all hearing Helen say,
Whatever you do, don’t be caught in the hall between classes. And if you have to be, only in groups of two. That
way you can pretend one of you is escorting the other somewhere for punishment
.

“We have no choice,” Rosie says urgently to Ryan. “You and Louisa go left. Evelyn and I will go right. I’ll keep the phone. The next bell rings in forty-five minutes. If we don’t meet in the boiler, we make our way to the emergency exit and pull the alarm then, with or without Maddie. Got it?”

I really don’t like that last part and I can see by the expression on Louisa’s face she doesn’t, either. But Rosie is right. We have no choice.

After a moment Ryan nods and Louisa says, “Got it,” and they disappear into the crowd filing down the stairs to the left. As they go, I am seized with the awful feeling that this could be the last time I see my friends. Any of my friends.

I touch the pocket of my hoodie and feel Alonso’s present there. This isn’t the time for What’s the Worst that Can Happen? thinking. It’s the time for action.

Rosie and I go down a long corridor. As we make our way toward the stairs at the end, I glance at the classrooms. I remember Helen describing the classes as “cool
and not boring like regular school” and I see right away these are nothing like the classrooms at CMS. One of them has a table with what looks like power tools on it. Another one has a car parked in the middle. A third room has a red light above the door next to the words
TOXIC MATERIALS LABORATORY: OBSERVE ALL POISON PROTOCOLS WHEN LIT.
A fourth has electrical boxes on each desk that remind me of lie detector machines I’ve seen in old movies.

“Stop gaping,” Rosie says to me through clenched teeth. “You’re looking too interested.”

A quick glance around shows me she’s right. A guy with a long braid trailing over his shoulder is watching us, fingers idly toying with his whistle. Two girls with identical pink-and-white-dotted headbands keep glancing in our direction and then turning and whispering to each other.

“I think I know what animals at the zoo must have felt like,” I whisper to Rosie.

“At the zoo they didn’t hunt the animals,” she whispers back.

A girl with a curtain of dark hair falling over her face gives me a shy glance as we walk by. Without thinking I smile at her. She smiles back. I feel a little better. Maybe not everyone here is bad.

We finally reach the stairs and join the stream of people flowing down to the first floor. The stairs deadend there, and that hallway is quickly emptying as everyone files into their classrooms.

“There’s an exit sign ahead.” Rosie speaks so low her lips barely move. “There must be more stairs there. We’ll make for it and —”

“Halt!” a voice says from behind us. “Cadets, stop where you are.”

I look around and realize we’re the only ones in the corridor.

“Don’t stop,” Rosie urges. “Keep going to the —”

“I said, halt!” the voice commands, and it’s followed by a strong hand on our shoulders.

We turn slowly and find ourselves face-to-face with a tall, muscular guy with a scar through his eyebrow, a tattoo on his neck, and a Scout Supervisor badge. “What do
you think you’re doing out of class?” he demands. His eyes are mean and appraising.

I swallow hard. “I’m a flier and she is taking me —” I start to say.

That’s when Rosie reaches out and slaps him across the face.