“Hey! How ya doing?” he said.
Amanda looked curiously at Finn, wondering what he was starting. But he knew what he was doing; he’d done it plenty of times before. Offered a pen, he started signing forearms, hands, the back of shirts. The crowd pressed in more tightly, everyone eager to get an autograph. This was what Charlene had immediately understood: their fans would protect them.
Given the distraction, Charlene had scrambled up the wall like a tree frog and was currently hanging upside down from the lights attached to the ceiling. As she moved, so did the human wall surrounding Finn and Amanda—the fans were leaping up and trying to touch her, applauding her, screaming her name. As long as Finn and Amanda stayed below her, the protective wall of fans that encircled them moved with her, keeping the Evil Queen and Cruella at a distance.
The two Overtakers—they had to be Overtakers—were also trying to push through to Finn and Amanda, but it was no use; they weren’t going to beat out fifty wild fans.
Charlene continued on the ceiling toward the hallway. Finn and Amanda and their fans moved with her.
As the group reached the hallway, the room narrowed. Charlene dropped. Finn pushed rudely through that side of kids, dragging Amanda with him. A gloved hand caught his shoulder.
Taller than the young fans, the Evil Queen had reached above their heads and caught him.
She said, “You cannot stop us. We will do this with or without your help. If you run, you’d better keep running.”
He ran.
Down the hall at a sprint, twenty of the screaming kids close behind. Through the turnstile, the gift shop, and into fresh air. Finn had rarely ever run so hard, and yet both girls were several paces ahead of him and increasing their leads.
When a good distance away, he dared to look back. Cruella and the Evil Queen had made no attempt to run after them.
If you run, you’d better keep running.…
Instead, Cruella was heading to a…pay phone.
She reached it and brought the receiver to her ear. It was the last Finn saw of her, but it struck him as so out of place, so odd, despite the fact that Cruella used telephones in her movies. Not pay phones. Not in Downtown Disney.
He arrived at the bus stop out of breath just as a bus was about to pull away. The driver braked for him and opened the door, and as he climbed on, he saw all six of his friends clustered in the back by the door.
Maybeck, a head taller than anyone his age, caught Finn’s eye and nodded, clearly relieved to see he’d made it.
A telephone, Finn was thinking.
* * *
Philby contained his surprise when a pop-up window appeared on his lab computer. A bright-eyed sixteen-year-old with reddish hair and freckles, Philby was a geek in disguise. He looked perfectly normal, but his British upbringing and slight accent, along with having a brain like Einstein, set him apart from other kids.
Edgewater High’s computer lab security software blocked pop-ups, prevented cookies, and limited Web access while simultaneously recording keystrokes. It was like working in the offices of the CIA or the NSA.
The lab had five long countertops with chairs, and eight laptop stations each. Currently, thirty-one students all faced forward where their instructor, Mr. Chambers, was stationed to the left of a large, interactive whiteboard mounted to the wall behind him. The whiteboard could carry anything from a mirror of one of the computers, to a PowerPoint presentation, or video. The instructor monitored software that showed a real-time thumbnail of each computer screen active in the lab. Mr. Chambers could click on any one of these at any time, seeing exactly what a particular student was doing. Chats were forbidden, as were aimlessly browsing the Web, downloads, or entertainment.
The pop-up on Philby’s screen displayed an invitation to a video chat. Technically, because of the security software and firewall, a pop-up was impossible, which only made it all the more intriguing to him. Despite his computer expertise, Philby had never been able to hack the school’s firewall—but not for want of trying.
Making matters worse, Philby and his fellow students had all signed ethics contracts, making it their responsibility to report any breaches or misuse of the system. By not raising his hand the moment the pop-up appeared on his screen, Philby had already violated that contract. It didn’t escape him that Mr. Chambers could easily be watching his screen, could already know about the pop-up himself.
If caught in violation of the contract, Philby would be suspended from lab for a week, possibly expelled from the class for the semester. It called for diversionary tactics, nothing new to Philby and his friends, who had long since established a system to distract Mr. Chambers away from his monitoring software.
Philby caught the eye of Hugo Montcliff, a neighborhood friend with droopy eyes, greasy hair, and shirts that carried unidentifiable food stains. Hugo’s father was a hard-drinking former policeman who couldn’t hold a job. Hugo occasionally sneaked out at night because he couldn’t take the screaming between his parents. Some nights he’d show up at Philby’s house and sleep on the couch. Philby’s mom had come to think of him as a kind of adopted son, and Philby considered him the closest thing he’d ever have to a brother. Philby signaled Hugo by tapping the desk twice and then pointing to his screen. Hugo nodded.