“My father had more than a few tricks up his sleeve,” she said. “It all comes down to trust, Finn. Leave it to me.”
13
FINN FELT THE PRESSURE of time running low as, on Friday evening, he, Jess, Amanda, Willa, Charlene, and Philby entered through an employee gate on the back side of Disney’s Hollywood Studios. Amanda used Maybeck’s employee card to enter; Jess used Wayne’s, provided to her by Wanda Alcott.
The time pressure arose from Mrs. Nash’s schedule. She spent two hours at Mass. It took her a half hour to reach the church in Friday traffic, and she remained at least thirty minutes after the service, praying for the welfare of her girls. That totaled a minimum of three hours she would be away from Nash House—the same three hours the girls of Nash House would be at Crazy Glaze.
But it had taken Jess and Amanda thirty minutes to reach the Studios. With another thirty set aside for their return, that left the Kingdom Keepers only two hours to accomplish what they’d come to do.
Wanda Alcott’s plan to get them inside the Studios required some humiliation. The kids were shown into costume storage and made to dress up in High School Musical outfits, either as basketball players or cheerleaders.
“Do we really have to?” Finn said, adjusting a headband.
“Cast members are used to seeing High School Musical kids here because of the street show. They won’t think anything of it. The only thing we have to be careful of is—”
“Being in the same place at the same time as our DHIs,” said Philby, interrupting, “because our faces are the same, and we might be recognized.”
“Exactly.”
They divided into the two groups: the DHI/film characters and the HSM gang, and entered onto the streets of the Studios. Wanda Alcott went ahead of them, both as a scout looking for the real DHIs, and to unlock the door to Soundstage B ahead of the kids’ arrival.
Nearing Soundstage B, only fifty yards away, Finn was approached by a round, red-faced kid who had a bully’s mischievousness in his beady eyes. This was something Wanda Alcott had not considered: DHI fans. Finn had encountered enough of these kinds of kids at school to know what was coming.
He whispered under his breath so that Jess and Charlene could hear. “Don’t let him try to touch me! He’ll either try to push me or punch me. He’s expecting his hand to go right through.”
“How do we stop him?” Charlene asked. She looked several years younger with her hair in braids and wearing a blue-and-white gingham jumper and red slippers.
“I don’t know,” Finn answered. “Step between us.”
As expected, the boy delighted in seeing what he believed to be a hologram that would serve as a punching bag. He stepped up to Finn, raised his fists and said, “Whatcha got, pal?” He took a swipe, his bunched knuckles coming straight for Finn’s chin.
Finn leaned back, the blow just missing.
The boy staggered, off-balance.
“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,” Jess said, moving between them.
The boy’s brow furrowed and he stopped, stone still, utterly taken aback.
“Who are you?” the boy asked. He stepped toward Jess. She stepped back, still blocking Finn.
The boy took a step toward her. She stood her ground.
“This DHI is our guide,” she said. “You’ll have to get your own.”
“Jimmy?” called an adult from down the street.
The boy’s mother, Finn guessed.
“I’ll just borrow him for a minute,” the boy said in a mean voice.
Finn stepped back. But the boy was athletic. He’d anticipated Finn’s move and actually moved closer to him. He swatted out, grabbing for him. He’d expected Finn to be nothing but light. His face twisted into surprise as he caught Finn’s basketball shorts.
“What the…?” he mumbled.
Finn broke the contact and pushed the boy to the asphalt.
The boy just sat there, dumbfounded. “You’re no DHI,” he said.
“Go!” Finn told the girls. They obeyed, heading away.
“Jimmy?” his mother called out, concern now filling her voice.
Finn, worried the boy might tell on him, said, “I’m a generation-three DHI, Jimmy.” He reached out his hand. “More human than ever.”
Finn helped the boy up. Jimmy stood slowly, awestruck at touching Finn.
“But how…” the boy said meekly. “I thought…” He couldn’t finish a sentence. “This is…way cool!” He reached out while wearing a mask of incredulity, once again trying to touch Finn.
But Finn moved away from the effort.
“James Francis McConnor!” the boy’s mother shouted. “You come here this minute!”