“YAH!” My hands flew into the air, launching my books into the ionosphere.
“And I thought you didn’t drink coffee,” Mason said, his head poking out of the lab door. “Why are you out in this empty hall all by yourself when I’m alone in this dark and dreary lab? Are you stalking me? ‘Cause if you are, I’m okay with it.”
“No, no,” I shook my head, too mortified to admit how on-target he was. “I knew you’d be here. You know, working on the Class Project. I wanted to…talk about it.”
Mason raised an eyebrow. He looked up the hall, then down, then back into the lab. “To who?”
“Umm…you.”
Mason seemed confused. “I’m sorry, who are you and what have you done with Miss Noelle? Hey, I have to get to class. If I see anybody you’d actually want to talk to, I’ll tell him you’re waiting. Toodles.” Mason started walking away, then spun on his heel and bent down in one fluid motion, sweeping my scattered books together. “Here you go. Be careful. They’re hot.”
I took a step back.
Mason pursed his lips. “You might need these.”
“What’s wrong with you, Mason? You’re being nice.”
“I’m always nice.”
“What about last week, when you tripped me coming out of the girl’s bathroom? The week before that, you tossed a ketchup-covered hot dog bun at me in the cafeteria. During history, you shot gum wads at me and knocked my books out of my hands. And this week, you threatened to ask me out, then gave me a new hairdo.”
“I did not give you a hairdo.”
“Then you admit you asked me out?”
“Why, do you want to take me up on my offer?”
“What?”
“You want to hang out Friday after school?”
“Um. Sure.” Choke! Gag! Vomit!
“You do?”
…
Once Mason recovered from the shock that I was willing to hang out with him (which, for the record, I was not—I had a mission, and not all missions are cotton candy, okay?) he said we should meet at the Shadow Passage. No surprise there. Kathryn said the gym-turned-video arcade was Mason’s hangout. Most of the kids from school hung out there. I suppose it could have been worse. I could have been meeting him in a dark alley.
Walking to the Shadow Passage Friday night was torture. I felt like a mastodon dragging itself through a tar pit. Every inch of my flesh had its foot on the brakes, every nucleus of every cell dropped its anchors, every endoplasmic reticulum screamed I do not want to do this. By the time I arrived, I was exhausted from the struggle.
A huge baby blue awning covered the entrance. Above the mirrored front door, a sign in spidery script read The Shadow Passage, Hidden Gateway to Adventure. I pulled the door open. Hard music and the bleeps and pings of video games blared into the street. Inside was brightly lit, and decorated like no arcade I had ever seen. Posters plastered the wall advertising free workshops on Self-esteem, Positive Self-talk, Respecting Others’ Feelings, Ways to Handle Anger, The Golden Rule, and The Benefits of a Positive Attitude. An old-fashioned pizza stand filled the center of the expansive room. Tables and booths were arranged along each sidewall. A series of monitors attached to exercise equipment occupied the majority of the room. Flashing neon signs identified each activity—Crown of Kings, Ferocious Beast Hunter, Grand Theft Bazooka, and a dozen other popular video games. Players wore visual reality headgear, wired up like patients in intensive care.
I took a seat in an unoccupied booth in the back corner where I could comfortably watch the entrance. Behind me, a long, lone table sat in front of a closed door. A sign on the door said SSA in bright gold letters. Across the arcade, I recognized Tish and Whatsisface. I slid down in my seat, hoping they wouldn’t notice me. Several other kids from my school were at various stations, running, pedaling, battling virtual enemies…the simulators reminded me of something Andy would concoct. I watched the station closest to me in amazement. The screen character’s motion mimicked the player’s movements. If they had a kung fu game, I would have totally thought about blowing off Mason and hooking myself up.
While I fantasized about pitting my skills against electronic opponents, Mason came through the front door. My first instinct was to disappear out the back, but I forced myself into Psi Fighter mode. It occurred to me that this was my first time out without my mask and armor. This mission was very different from my last one. My objective was to gather intelligence about a wombat who was connected to this Scallion person. I needed to know what said wombat knew. To do that, I had to pretend to be a girl who didn’t despise him. Even worse, he had to leave convinced that I enjoyed his company.
As he crossed the room, I noticed that Mason moved like a panther—disciplined, graceful—not a fighter’s walk, more like a hunter. His eyes fixed on me almost immediately.
“Hey,” Mason said, taking the seat across from me. A huge smile spread across his face. “You showed. Cool.”