what can we do about it?” the ever-practical Willa asked.
“Can you stop what happened to me from happening again?” Charlene asked.
“It shouldn’t have happened to you in the first place,” Philby said.
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question,” she said.
Philby said, “I can monitor the traffic. Set a data alarm. If there’s another surge of data, high bandwidth usage, I should be able to detect it.”
“That doesn’t exactly sound promising,” Maybeck said.
“I’m open to suggestions,” said Philby, knowing he was the only one who understood any of what he’d just said.
“I’d like to gang up on one of these imitation-flavor Overtakers and have a little talk with them about what they’re up to,” Maybeck said. “I wonder how strong they are when it’s three against one.”
“I hate to say it,” said Willa, “but it might be better—safer—to try a girl first.”
“Sally Ringwald,” Finn said. “She was in the photo with Lady Evil, and Amanda said she’s now wearing green contacts.”
“Can you or Amanda get her alone with us someplace?” Maybeck asked.
“Listen to you!” Charlene said, chastising them. “You’re going to hurt some girl without even being sure she’s part of this?”
“Of course you’d defend her! You were working for the Evil Queen yourself! Besides, who said we’re going to hurt her?” Maybeck said. “Scare her a little, maybe? Sure. It’s not like the OTs don’t scare us. Am I right? You bet I am. It’s time we return the favor, is all. If those guys are spies, we need to know it before it’s too late.”
Heads nodded in agreement.
“I was apparently a spy for them and I didn’t even know it,” Charlene reminded in a somber voice.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Maybeck said. But it didn’t sound as if he meant a word of it.
P HILBY’S CAT, ELVIS , was a plump, lazy cat. The kind of plump that might get him mistaken for a pet raccoon. The kind that scared off small dogs. Elvis, like all cats, enjoyed warm places to sleep. On the couch, nestled between pillows. Curled up in a shirt that had been tossed on the floor.
Philby’s laptop computer ran hot. Its internal fan emitted a pleasant, catlike purr.
Elvis jumped first to the empty office chair, then up to the desk, and lay across the purring keyboard, luxuriating in its warmth.
At desk height he was nearly level with Philby, who slept soundly in his bed across the room. Elvis got up and circled once, unable to find the perfect position. His back paws hit several keys at once. On the screen a window closed. Then another. Elvis took no notice; he’d found the perfect spot to sleep.
He had no idea that he’d just closed the data traffic monitoring program Philby used to police the DHI server. No idea he’d turned off Philby’s data alarm.
Instead, he settled his formidable self over the keys, wiggling until gravity claimed various parts of him. He placed his considerable cat chin down gently onto his crossed paws and closed his eyes.
Behind him, the laptop timed out and went into sleep mode along with him. The boy in the bed knew no different.
* * *
Willa slept with a bear. Not a real bear, a stuffed bear; but no normal stuffed bear, either. A sizable bear. A gargantuan bear of proportions nearing those of a small child. She slept with it alongside of her, its head on a pillow, or sometimes rocked up on its side with its black button eyes looking right at her as she drifted off to sleep. And sometimes, at the same magical moment of finding sleep, she would sling an arm around it and pull it in close, subconsciously enjoying its fuzzy fur as well as the comfort of having something so wonderfully close.
She dozed off, dreaming of school that day, of meeting the Keepers at Crazy Glaze, and of a particularly disturbing exchange of texts with Philby. They’d been texting a lot recently, which she didn’t mind at all. But when she found out that Philby, not Maybeck, had
“Can you stop what happened to me from happening again?” Charlene asked.
“It shouldn’t have happened to you in the first place,” Philby said.
“That doesn’t exactly answer my question,” she said.
Philby said, “I can monitor the traffic. Set a data alarm. If there’s another surge of data, high bandwidth usage, I should be able to detect it.”
“That doesn’t exactly sound promising,” Maybeck said.
“I’m open to suggestions,” said Philby, knowing he was the only one who understood any of what he’d just said.
“I’d like to gang up on one of these imitation-flavor Overtakers and have a little talk with them about what they’re up to,” Maybeck said. “I wonder how strong they are when it’s three against one.”
“I hate to say it,” said Willa, “but it might be better—safer—to try a girl first.”
“Sally Ringwald,” Finn said. “She was in the photo with Lady Evil, and Amanda said she’s now wearing green contacts.”
“Can you or Amanda get her alone with us someplace?” Maybeck asked.
“Listen to you!” Charlene said, chastising them. “You’re going to hurt some girl without even being sure she’s part of this?”
“Of course you’d defend her! You were working for the Evil Queen yourself! Besides, who said we’re going to hurt her?” Maybeck said. “Scare her a little, maybe? Sure. It’s not like the OTs don’t scare us. Am I right? You bet I am. It’s time we return the favor, is all. If those guys are spies, we need to know it before it’s too late.”
Heads nodded in agreement.
“I was apparently a spy for them and I didn’t even know it,” Charlene reminded in a somber voice.
“We’ll keep that in mind,” Maybeck said. But it didn’t sound as if he meant a word of it.
P HILBY’S CAT, ELVIS , was a plump, lazy cat. The kind of plump that might get him mistaken for a pet raccoon. The kind that scared off small dogs. Elvis, like all cats, enjoyed warm places to sleep. On the couch, nestled between pillows. Curled up in a shirt that had been tossed on the floor.
Philby’s laptop computer ran hot. Its internal fan emitted a pleasant, catlike purr.
Elvis jumped first to the empty office chair, then up to the desk, and lay across the purring keyboard, luxuriating in its warmth.
At desk height he was nearly level with Philby, who slept soundly in his bed across the room. Elvis got up and circled once, unable to find the perfect position. His back paws hit several keys at once. On the screen a window closed. Then another. Elvis took no notice; he’d found the perfect spot to sleep.
He had no idea that he’d just closed the data traffic monitoring program Philby used to police the DHI server. No idea he’d turned off Philby’s data alarm.
Instead, he settled his formidable self over the keys, wiggling until gravity claimed various parts of him. He placed his considerable cat chin down gently onto his crossed paws and closed his eyes.
Behind him, the laptop timed out and went into sleep mode along with him. The boy in the bed knew no different.
* * *
Willa slept with a bear. Not a real bear, a stuffed bear; but no normal stuffed bear, either. A sizable bear. A gargantuan bear of proportions nearing those of a small child. She slept with it alongside of her, its head on a pillow, or sometimes rocked up on its side with its black button eyes looking right at her as she drifted off to sleep. And sometimes, at the same magical moment of finding sleep, she would sling an arm around it and pull it in close, subconsciously enjoying its fuzzy fur as well as the comfort of having something so wonderfully close.
She dozed off, dreaming of school that day, of meeting the Keepers at Crazy Glaze, and of a particularly disturbing exchange of texts with Philby. They’d been texting a lot recently, which she didn’t mind at all. But when she found out that Philby, not Maybeck, had
Similar Books
