Fallout (Lois Lane) (5 page)

Including the teacher, who wasn’t doing anything.

Another round of whispers started up from the Warheads.

“It’s hard to concentrate with all the noise,” I said, loud enough that Ms. Johnson couldn’t pretend she didn’t catch it. “I didn’t realize we were allowed to talk during a test.”

The whispers ceased, but that didn’t mean silence won. The Warheads switched to low, offended laughter. Anavi shook her head and made her best attempt to return to the sheet in front of her. Her hand still clutched the pen.

“You’re not.” Ms. Johnson did step in, finally, focusing on the pack of offenders.

Took you long enough.

“You should stop disturbing the others,” she told them. She finally showed some irritation. “Hydra doesn’t mean you can act however you want. Not in my class.”

Now
that
was interesting. I made a mental note to find out what “Hydra” was, and why a teacher would bring it up to them. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’m disturbed,” said one of the Warheads.

“Aren’t you?” another said.

“Anavi, Anavi, Anavi,
” several of them chanted her name in a near sing-song, “are you disturbed?”

Anavi’s hand trembled around the pen, and I couldn’t imagine that what she was producing on the quiz was legible. But she was trying to take it, trying not to give in. That, I admired.

I scribbled down a few more answers, guessing the whole way and mostly paying attention to Anavi and the whispers. When the egg timer dinged, Anavi jolted in her seat in shock, triggering another round of sarcastic laughter. The girl had completely lost her cool.

While I clung to my spellcheck, I’d seen spelling competitions like the one Anavi had been in. The night before, after my game research, I’d looked up Anavi’s winning year and found a video of the last few rounds.

Some of the participants’ composure had melted away as they got closer to the finish line. But not Anavi’s. She stayed completely cool, calm, and alphabetically collected, right up to the end. Even when she won, the most extreme part of her reaction had been to crack a big smile and pump one fist in the air before walking over and hugging her proud parents.

But here she was, about to pass out over a pop quiz in a subject she usually made A’s in. I wanted to know how she’d done this time.

So I reached over to take her paper to pass it up front, then subtly leaned in when I handed it to Devin. “Give it a quick look,” I told him.

Even if I hadn’t witnessed how Anavi’s pen shook, the quality of the marks on the sheet made it plain. Devin skimmed the page and murmured, “This is weird.”

“What?”

But Ms. Johnson hovered over us, her hand outstretched. Devin accepted my quiz and added his own, handing them to her.

Once she walked away, he said, “They were wrong. All of them. Nothing even close to right. Like I said, Anavi was acing this class. She’s as good at this stuff as anyone in here.”

The Warheads stared over at us.

And there it was. I had earned the full smirk. From all of them.

That was better than them being focused on Anavi. So I accepted it and sent back a look of challenge of my own, proud.

Until I glanced over and caught the expression on Anavi’s face. It was even more pained than it had been before.

For the rest of the class period, she sat folded in on herself, with only an occasional movement.

Every time, it was that same unnatural jerk, a flinch like an invisible fist had just punched her or a voice was hissing insults in her ear.

If there was one thing I hated, it was bullies.

CHAPTER 5

Finding Anavi in the crowded cafeteria at lunch
was harder than I expected.
But eventually I ferreted out her near-hidden spot in one of the back corners. Alone, which wasn’t a surprise. After what I’d witnessed in class, I felt sorry for her. I’d have to ask Devin if her being a loner was new behavior.

“You mind?” I scooted the chair opposite Anavi out with my boot and gingerly put down my lunch tray. I didn’t want to spook her.

The pizza on my plate was the sad-slice variety, staple of food courts and gas stations everywhere. But it was still pizza, and more recognizable than most of the other cafeteria offerings. And I was starving.

Meanwhile, Anavi was busy staring at me, wide-eyed. “Um, sincere apologies, but—”

“I’m sorry that you do mind. But I’m staying. Don’t worry, I’m not offended that you don’t want me to. My feelings don’t bruise easily.” Or at least I was good at pretending they didn’t. I sat down, putting my bag on the table beside me. “You should know I’m going to help you. Bullies like the Warheads don’t work like adults usually say. It’s not that they’re all talk and you just have to stand up to them. It’s that talk can be bad enough, but usually they’re more than willing to act too. And from what I saw earlier, it’s pretty clear these guys are not shy about acting.”

Anavi didn’t interrupt, which I took as a positive sign. I went on.

“Whatever those creepy Warheads creeps are doing to you, it’s wrong. I know there’s more to it than whispers.” Here it was. I was going to talk about things most people would call crazy with someone besides SmallvilleGuy. I didn’t see any other way to convince Anavi that I was on her side. “What you told the principal? After this morning, I believe you. I’m not going to leave you to deal with them by yourself.”

Anavi swallowed, but she didn’t speak.

I gave her time while I took a bite of pizza. Definitely sad, but, again, still pizza.

“Why?” Anavi asked finally, the question forcing its way out.

“Because they’re jerks of the highest magnitude,” I said, trying to speak the girl’s language. “The principal shouldn’t be letting them get away with tormenting you, or anything else. I didn’t like the way the teacher acted around them either. Like she was intimidated, afraid to put them in their place. Something’s definitely wrong here.”

I set down the sad pizza slice, puzzled again by how willing the adults were to indulge the Warheads’ behavior.

“No,” Anavi blurted. “It’s just . . . that’s not what I . . . Why do you believe me? About the rest.”

“Oh.” I had fallen into my old habit of barreling ahead and leaving whoever I was talking to behind by accident. I backtracked. “You mean about them messing with your head? This isn’t my first school. It’s not even my tenth. I’ve been a lot of places, and I’ve seen a lot of things. I can tell when things are . . . off. I also know that sometimes the explanations aren’t the obvious ones or ones that even seem possible.”

“But . . . ” Anavi hesitated.

“Go on. I’m on your side.”

“But I’m becoming more convinced that I am . . . losing my sanity.” Anavi looked away, into the corner. There was nowhere else to look if she didn’t want to meet my eyes.

Reaching into my messenger bag, I found a notebook and pen. I inched my tray back to make room to take notes.

“You’re not,” I said. “I won’t let you. How long have you been playing
Worlds
?”

Anavi looked at me then, which was progress. And she didn’t balk at the notebook, though she raised her eyebrows at it. “I’ve only been playing since I aged out of the bee. I had all that time to fill. No more flashcards and word lists and sessions with my coach. Studying for school doesn’t take as long. My neighbor, Will, was into it, and he taught me how to play.”

More progress.

“Tell me when it started. Them acting like this toward you. Were they always so mean?”

“In the game?” Anavi asked.

I thought back to what Devin had told me. “I heard that they’re cannibals in it.”

“I disagree,” Anavi said. “They were, they used to be. They used to turn on each other. I’ve been in there while they were fighting amongst the team, hurling each other into four-story monsters or into alien-probe traps.”

Alien-probe traps?
“Yikes.”

Anavi went on. “But then they turned more . . . socio, serial. A couple of months ago.”

“What does that mean?”

“Sociopaths, serial killers.”

You don’t say
. “Psychos. I got that part. What does it mean in the game?”

“It means they stopped griefing each other and started in on others. They began acting as a unit, no in-fighting. They weren’t cannibals anymore, not within the group. They were socios, serials, psychos . . . that means they go after other players together, no mercy. Rampaging.”

“Those other players included you?”

Anavi leaned forward. “No, not at first. My friend Will . . . He used to be my friend. My neighbor. They went after him. I should have helped him. But I was afraid they would come after me. The definition of absurdity, isn’t it?”

“What happened to him?”

“He’s one of them now. I could try to describe him, but . . . ”

“
But
they all dress alike, and so I wouldn’t know who you meant,” I said.

“Yes. He has been assimilated.”

In addition to her fear, she sounded like she was carrying a load of guilt around. I tapped my pen on the table. “You think this is revenge. That Will’s having them target you because you didn’t help him out. Is that why Butler thought one of them had a crush on you?”

“No, that’s just because I’m a girl. Isn’t that what adults always think when you complain about treatment by boys?” She considered the other question before she answered. “I did wonder at first, if the crush was part of it. But now I don’t think so. He’s just one of them. He’s not orchestrating anything. He used to be able to recite chapter and verse about soccer, every score, always streaming it when we weren’t in the game. He had an obsession with this UK team. The last time I went over to his house, he had taken down all his posters and I tried to make conversation about them, be normal, but he said he didn’t care about it anymore. That he had more important things to do. He wasn’t acting like himself.”

“And neither were you, this morning in class.”

“Correct,” she said. “They didn’t just mess up Will in the game. Before he started hanging out with them all the time, in the game and real life, he failed several tests. He couldn’t generate the right responses.”

“Again, like you this morning.”

Her nod was more like a wince.

“Sorry,” I said. The last thing I wanted was to make her feel worse about all this.

“If I forfeit my scholarship . . . My parents are going to slaughter me.”

“No, they’re not.” I clicked my pen closed. “You’re not losing anything.”

Anavi’s eyes met mine. She didn’t look convinced. “What if they force me to assimilate, like they did Will? I don’t want to be one of them.”

“I’m helping you, remember?” And I wanted to know who was conducting the bully orchestra, if not Anavi’s former pal. Both in the hallway and in class the group had been in such sync, no one had stood out as mouthpiece or mastermind. “Who do you think is the leader?”

“That’s another unlikely thing. You would assume there would be one commander. But it feels like they all are the leader, or none of them is.” Her glasses had slipped down her nose, and she pushed them back into place. “I haven’t been back in
Worlds
in days. But it doesn’t seem to matter. In there, I can hold my own. It’s just bad play. But out here . . . When they’re near me and they want to . . . the only way I can describe it is that they disrupt my mind. Like they’re
in
my head, wearing jackboots and stomping around. Or not that, not precisely. It’s closer to a feeling of very fine control, like I’m a computer and they’re writing a piece of code that makes me perform however they want. An invading army, executing a coup in my mind.”

That was new. “So, they have to be close by for you to feel this way?”

“I think so. It only happens when they’re physically proximate. This morning in class, I
knew
the correct answers. They were at the forefront of my mind, but I couldn’t transcribe them. What I wrote was wrong, and I
knew
it was.” She lowered her voice. “But I could not stop. You know Occam’s razor? It’s a scientific principle that says the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. By that logic, the simplest explanation for this particular situation would be that I am absolutely losing my sanity. It defies any other explanation. Why else would I be telling you this?”

“Because I’m helping you.” Maybe I would regret not sending her straight to the counselor’s office. But my instincts said not to. “Give me a few days.”

“I should’ve known better than to bother reporting them to Principal Butler. He has always been kind to me, but his adoration for the Warheads this year is unparalleled. He allows them afternoons free. They get to leave campus.”

I clicked my pen again, noted that detail, and added a question mark.

Then I remembered the other question I had for Anavi. “Does the word ‘Hydra’ mean anything to you?”

“A mythological monster. The root’s Greek. There’s one in the game.” She shrugged. “Mid-level boss. Not that hard to defeat. You know what’s almost comical?”

“Nothing about any of this,” I said.

“I think in language roots, still, after all those years studying them. I notice them, the components of words. I don’t think I will ever stop. That term I mentioned the other day, the one I found that was closest to what’s happening . . . psychological coercion?”

I scribbled it into my notes too. “I didn’t remember it before, but I do now. What’s it mean?”

“The root,
psyche
, is Greek. It means breath, life, soul. Roots often have a certain poetry about them. Psychological coercion, it’s an elaborate way of saying that they’re stealing my soul. My breath. My life. That’s what my mind is to me.”

I couldn’t let that happen. “I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but would you be willing to go into the game again? Tonight? I’ll arrange to be there, too. I need to witness what they’re doing there so I can make the case that they’re targeting you. Don’t worry. I won’t talk about the inside-your-head stuff. Only what others can see.”

Suddenly, Anavi’s head ducked and she examined the boring plastic pattern of fake wood grain on the tabletop. I turned, expecting to see the Warheads lurking behind me.

But it was Maddy, standing at my shoulder. Her T-shirt today was another band that I hadn’t heard of: Danger Dames.

“Join us,” I said. “We’re almost done. Do you two know each other? Maddy, this is Anavi.”

“Hippopotamus,” Maddy said, sliding out the chair and scooting into it. She tilted her head at Anavi. “Come on, I can never remember how many P’s. Or U’s.”

I protested, “She’s not a trick pony—”

But Anavi rattled off the perfectly spelled—so I assumed—word. Maddy grinned. Anavi smiled back, the first time I’d seen any lightness in her.

I
had
to make sure that her breath, life, and soul stayed intact.

“So, tonight? Ten o’clock in the game?” I asked. “We’re on?”

“What article?” Anavi asked instead of agreeing, her forehead creasing in concern. “You mentioned something about an article.”

“Maddy and I work for the
Daily Scoop
. We’re going to do a piece about bullying, in game and out, using you as a case study.”

“But I don’t want anyone else to know it’s me.”

I understood. “I promised I’d help, right? Trust me. I’ll figure out a way to not use your name.”

“All right,” Anavi said. “I will be present at ten, but I make no commitment for how long I will remain if they’re in attendance.”

“You probably know the exact location of the Warheads at this very second, don’t you?” I asked.

“Always. How else can I avoid them effectively?”

“Point us in their direction. I want to officially meet them.”

Anavi lifted her finger, which trembled only a little. “Next to the doors. They linger. I’m always late for my first period after lunch . . . I wait them out.”

“Not today. Today they’ll be leaving early.” I stood and waved for Maddy to join me. “They have their methods of attack. I have mine.”