“His eyes. Contact lenses,” he said. “What if Luowski looked different to me because eyes were green?”
“That’s ridiculous. Greg Luowski has boring eyes,” she said. “Hazel. Red hair, hazel eyes.”
Finn said, “But what if his boring hazel eyes are now green like Sally Ringwald’s?”
“Greg Luowski wearing pigmented contacts? Not possible. A guy like him never thinks about how he looks.”
“But
“You’re sick.”
“It’s not me, it’s them!”
“It’s your idea.”
“We’ve got to look for others. And you have to get close enough to Luowski to see if I’m right.”
“Why me?” she said.
“Because if he sees me he goes all Neanderthal.”
“He didn’t when you were in the bathroom.”
“Just do it. Please! He’s right over there by the drinks.”
“Okay. I’ll walk by him on my way out.”
“What are you doing after school?” he asked.
“Jess and I were grounded by Mrs. Nash. She found out about our little trip to Epcot. We’re in serious trouble. It’s her three-strike rule. She threatened to send us back to the Fairlies,” she said.
“That’s not going to happen.”
“No offense, but I don’t think you’re going to have a lot of say in it.”
The school buzzer sounded. Lunch was over.
“See you.” She stood along with half the kids in the room. She walked toward Luowski and the exit. Finn watched her every step. As she passed Luowski’s table, she said something to him.
Then, at the door, she turned around and found Finn. She pointed to her eyes and nodded.
Her lips mouthed, “Green.”
For a second he thought he might puke. It had nothing to do with the creamed chicken and rice.
Philby felt the prickle of hairs raising on the back of his neck, and knew he was being watched. Worse, he only associated that same level of dread, of impending disaster, with the Overtakers. But in school? Normally, it wouldn’t have made any sense, but the photo of students with the Evil Queen had changed all that for Philby. No one was to be trusted.
The hallways of Edgewater High were jammed with students. Some were hurrying to class, some were flirting, some facing their lockers. But someone was watching him.
He crossed past Mrs. McVey’s classroom and stood with his back against a bulletin board filled with thumb- tacked essays on the promise of electric cars. He hoped the new angle would make whoever was watching him reveal himself. But the only person he saw was Hugo Montcliff, his neighborhood friend.
“Checking out the girls, or what?”
“Or what,” Philby answered. He looked hard for someone focused on him.
No one.
“We’ve got Algebra.”
“Yeah, so?”
“You okay?” Hugo asked.
“You ever get that feeling someone’s watching you?”
“Like a girl? Me? Not so much.”
“Do you think of anything but girls, Hugo?”
“Xbox. The new Guerrilla Warfare two-point-three.”
The sensation had passed. “I was trying to have a little private time here,” he said, wounding Hugo. For the first time he took his eyes off the kids in the hallway and looked over at Hugo. He must have hurt him bad because Hugo didn’t look like Hugo at all.
“Hey,” Philby said. “I’m sorry.”
“Enjoy your private time,” Hugo said. He charged off.
“Hugo?!”
He was about to run after him when he caught a pair of eyes staring at him from across the hall. A girl with dark hair. She looked vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t remember her name. The girl from the photo? She broke off the stare and moved on.
Philby joined the river of students, trying to catch up with her. The more he pushed, the less progress he made. He pulled to the side and tried working along the lockers. He made some headway. There! He reached out and grabbed her shoulder, turning her around.
The wrong girl.
“Sorry!” he said.
“Loser,” the girl said, brushing his hand from her shoulder.
He dragged himself out of the way of the crush. Against school rules, he pulled out his phone and sent a group text:
we hav 2 talk. Crzy glaze. after skool
Philby believed in science. Empirical proof. He believed in forming a theory, developing evidence, reaching a conclusion. He lacked all of that. He had only a few hairs tickling the back of his neck and some girl who might have been staring at a hallway clock for all he knew.
And yet he had no doubt-none, whatsoever. There were Overtakers in his school. They were watching him.
It turned his world upside down. There’s no place safe, he thought.
Finn left school with Dillard Cole, his closest non-Keeper friend and full-time neighborhood pal. Dillard was neither athletic nor particularly fit, but he had a good imagination, a huge appetite, and was probably the best gamer Finn knew. At one time-what seemed like many years ago to Finn but wasn’t actually so very long ago-the two had spent endless weekends and evenings “working the thumbs,” as Dillard called video gaming. Following Finn’s modeling as a DHI and his recruitment into the Kingdom Keepers by Wayne, their friendship had fallen off. The reason for the fallout had been, in large part, the secrecy under which the Keepers operated. But now, with newspaper stories “alleging” that Finn was one of the five Kingdom Keepers, Dillard understood the complications of the past and was letting the friendship come around again.
Finn found himself preoccupied with the idea of Luowski’s green contact lenses. He and Amanda had blamed Charlene for their wild, near-death simulator ride in DisneyQuest, but a film had been playing in Finn’s memory: Luowski bumping into Charlene and helping her to pick up the virtual roller coaster tickets off the floor when she’d dropped them. What if Luowski had substituted the killer ride for the one Charlene had designed for him and Amanda?
“But it’s over, right?” Dillard said, bringing Finn back. Dillard sweated as he labored to keep up with the fast- walking Finn. “You guys vanquished them.”
“‘Vanquished?’ That is so Gate Crashers,” Finn said, referring to a popular video game.
“The Disney villains…they took care of the witch and the thing.”
“Villains? Rumors. All rumors.”
“So, you are hurrying because…?”
“I’ve got to catch a city bus. I got a text from Philby,” said Finn.
