wide metal tube in the corner stretches from the floor to the ceiling.
Avery rests her hands on her hips. “You like?”
I’d like it better if we were in here to do something other than snoop around, but things are never that simple with Avery.
“So we’re in a maintenance room.” I stand up. “This is really blowing my mind.”
Ignoring me, she heads over to the far wall and lifts herself onto a wooden crate.
I walk over to her. “What are you doing?”
She struggles with a square grate on the ceiling, yanking at the corners until they pop out from the panel and reveal an open air vent. “Think of this as our own little portal.” She bends down and leans the grate against the wall.
I stare at the dark hole in the ceiling. “A portal to where? The trash chutes?”
“Of course not.” She rubs her dirty hands on the front of her jeans. “This is how we’re gonna spy on Alkine.”
“Oh, no.” I take a few steps back. “I’m not going up there, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Relax.” She crouches to a sitting position, the heels of her feet kicking the crate. “I’ll go up first. All you’ve gotta do is follow. It’s safe, I promise. And you’ll kill yourself if you don’t go.”
I cross my arms. “Now why would I do that?”
“Because this meeting, Jesse Fisher, is about you.” She pauses. “They’re going to talk about you in there.”
“No they’re not.”
“Yeah. They are. And you wanna know how I know that?” She points to the hole in the ceiling. “Because I was up there in that vent a week ago when Alkine announced it.”
“No way.” I picture the faculty sitting around some fancy table arguing over reasons to throw me off the ship. “Why would they be talking about me?” I think back to my weird conversation with Captain Alkine the other night and suddenly it’s not so hard to believe.
“Trust me, Jesse. Have I ever lied to you?”
“I guess not.”
“And do you really think I’d drag you up into some vent for nothing?”
I take a moment to consider it. “Yes.”
She laughs. “Okay, maybe I would, but you’re still coming up with me.”
My arms drop to my sides and I give a defeated shrug. She’s impossible to argue with.
She beams. “Good enough for me.”
Without wasting another moment, she stands and grabs onto the ceiling panel. Her shirt rises, revealing an inch of midriff. If her words weren’t enough to get me up into the vent, that’ll sure do it.
Then she lifts herself into the hole. She’s definitely done this before. I bet she’s a pro.
Once she’s all the way through and has a second to turn herself around, I crawl onto the crate and grab her outstretched hands. She helps me up until I’m halfway in. I scoot toward her and turn to look back at the closet. I’m gonna regret this. I just know it.
13
With each room we pass over, grids of light stream through the metal grates below us. It’s never completely dark. Of course, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m wedged inside an air vent. I’m glad I’m skinny.
Avery doesn’t seem to mind. She crawls through the narrow spaces with ease, contorting around corners with lightning speed. I follow dutifully behind, convinced that the entire system’s going to give way and drop us right into the middle of a classroom. Or fill with hot air, or poisonous gas, or some equally unpleasant substance.
Again, Avery doesn’t seem to share my concerns.
“Shh!” She waves her arm behind her. I do my best to tread lightly, careful to stay as silent as possible.
Then I hear it. Alkine’s voice in the distance, coming from somewhere below us.
Avery slows her crawl, sliding along the thin sheet of metal without a sound. I copy her. The farther we slide, the more clearly Alkine’s voice flows up into the vent. I can’t believe I’m doing this. Sneaking around empty rooms is one thing. Spying on people from air vents is mass different. It feels wrong.
Avery intersects the bars of light shining up through the nearest grate and cautiously spins around so that she’s on one side of the opening and I’m on the other. We lean our heads down, peering through the empty slots.
Captain Alkine stands at the head of an oval table. Before him sit the head teachers for Year Seven and up-all six of them. Mr. Wilson reclines in a chair closest to us. His bald spot glints with the reflection of the overhead lights. It could be blinding at the right angle.
Each teacher jots notes on a circular memo-pad in front of them, but I’m too far away to read the writing. From the amount of scribbles on each, the meeting must have already been going for a while.
“Our stats this month are looking very good,” Alkine booms, his voice echoing through the vent. “Three Pearls taken from the Surface and transported to the Tribunal-two Fringe trades and one from Richard Harris’s team down in Boston. That makes a total of twenty-one collected from all eight agent facilities.” He smiles. “The Tribunal is satiated.”
“Well, thank heavens for that,” Mrs. Higgins, head of Year Seven, replies. The teachers laugh.
“Richard Harris is Skandar’s dad,” I whisper to Avery. “Poor guy’s been on the Surface for months now.” Surface work is the worst, and the most dangerous. I can’t imagine being stationed down there for longer than a day. Skandar never talks about it, but I know it’s hard for him, not knowing what’s happening.
“Then there’s Visitation Day,” Alkine continues. “I know you all heard my spiel at assembly today, but I just want to give you one last heads up. It’s your job to secure everything that needs to be secured by eleven o’clock tomorrow morning. It’s a pain, but I’d like us to all be aware of our surroundings. I know I don’t need to remind you about what nearly happened in the level five training room two terms ago.” He pauses, taking a seat. “Now, if there’s no further housekeeping to take care of, I’d like us to focus on the boy.”
Avery tilts her head and meets my eyes. Neither of us says a word. Alkine doesn’t even have to say my name. Somehow I just know he’s talking about me. Avery was right.
Alkine sighs. “It’s no secret that I’d hoped he’d be in a better position right now. The good news is, we’ve still got time. He’s only just entered the program and I believe that if we focus our attention and work as a team there’s hope for him yet.”
I lean my face closer to the grate, forgetting that any of the teachers could look up at the ceiling and see me.
“I spoke with Fisher when he came back from the Surface,” Alkine continues. “Incoherently, I’m sure. You all know that I’m no good with kids. Anyways, I let him know what my expectations were, that he should come to me with any concerns.”
Mr. Wilson shifts in his seat. “Sending him down to the Surface without an escort was a big mistake. What if the Unified Party had found him and not just some punk kid?”
Alkine holds up a finger. “If we hadn’t sent him down, he would have wondered why he was the only one in his year without Surface training. And he did have an escort.”
Wilson slouches forward, resting his head on his hand. “Rodriguez doesn’t count.”
I glance at Avery. “Eva?”
Alkine sighs. “Doug, you of all people should be able to appreciate Rodriguez’s considerable skills. Plus, she has a direct line to me. If anything had happened, I’d have been down there myself. Syracuse is a deserted town, miles from the nearest Chosen City. We know what we’re doing. We’ve managed to keep him off the Tribunal’s radar well enough, haven’t we?”
Wilson shakes his head. “Another mistake, if you ask me. Sometimes I think it would have been better to turn him in the day we found him, spare us all this trouble.”
I bristle at the tone of Wilson’s voice. My fingers wrap around the grate.
Mrs. Dembo, head of Year Ten, sets down her pen and scratches the back of her dark, shaved head. “What
