Portia stepped toward him. “We’re worried about you guys. It looks like you haven’t even started. What’s going on?”
He put a foot on the porch rail, leaning into it. “Everything’s under control.”
“Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.” Portia smiled in my direction. “Looks like Team B has the Covenant Award clinched.”
Simon shrugged. “It’s all yours. Don’t expect anything out of Team A. Bunch of whiners.” He flicked his hand. “What’s her name, Gwen, she’s having a panic attack. Things weren’t going perfect so she quit showing up. Some leader, huh? And Maize. There’s a doozy. She can’t stay on task for more than ten minutes, then she’s off starting something else. And that Dagger kid.” He shook his head. “Who enrolled him? He’s a hard enough worker, but I’m not sure he knows the time of day.”
Portia’s jaw twitched back and forth. “Well? What about you? I don’t see you in there making progress.”
“I’m a professional student. I’m just here so I don’t have to face life out there.” His head jerked toward Del Gloria proper.
“If you were professional, you’d do a better job faking that you wanted to be here,” Portia said. “How’d you get into DGC, anyway?”
A happy-go-lucky smile. “I’m doing the professor a favor.” Simon looked me straight in the eye, his crooked grin full of hidden meaning.
I drew in a sharp breath.
Simon’s gaze traveled to Portia. “The prof needed another person to round out the class and make even teams.”
I sighed in relief.
A quick goodbye, and we cut across the grass at a brisk pace, hoping to catch the bus.
“I don’t trust that guy,” Portia commented as we turned the corner. “Gwen’s apartment is only one building down from mine. I’ll go over tonight and see what’s going on.” I huffed to keep up. “I’ll see Denton tonight and make sure he’s got the scoop.”
The bus pulled around the far corner, heading toward the bus stop.
“Hurry!” I ran ahead of Portia.
Celia was already loaded when we sprinted up the steps and swiped our transit passes through the scanner.
Still laughing from our race, Portia and I piled into seats next to Koby.
“I didn’t think we’d make it.” I gasped for air.
“No problem,” Portia said. “I love running to catch a bus. It beats the old days, when I was running to dodge a bullet.”
I looked at her, shocked. “You’re kidding, right?”
She shook her head. “Dead serious.”
“Who was shooting at you?”
“Which time?” she asked.
I gulped. “Oh, my. Where were you before you came here?”
“Can’t tell you where I was.” She looked off toward the horizon. “Too many people would love to see me dead.” She glanced at me. “But I can tell you what I was.”
I nodded, silent.
She stared up at the ceiling, her body rocking with the motion of the bus. “Started out as a prostitute.” She held up her tiny fingers. “Got a lot of the weirdos. Then I got recruited by the cops for a sting operation. The whole thing flopped. Nothing like running naked through the streets while getting shot at by the cops, your pimp, and your john.”
My hands did a nervous twiddle in my lap. I cleared my throat. “So how did you end up at Del Gloria?”
“I ran into a church, buck naked. Hid out behind some curtains until the coast was clear, but the cleaning woman spotted me.” Portia’s eyes misted. “Instead of screaming at me and condemning me and calling the cops, she wrapped me in a towel from her supply cart and drove me to the pastor’s house. They gave me food and clothes, then talked to me and prayed with me. By the time I left, I knew Jesus. It’s like he’d been waiting for me to run into that church that day. Later, the pastor gave me a referral to the college, and here I am.” Her voice dropped off as she stared at some point in space.
Then she held my gaze, conscious again. “The truth will set you free. I believe that, Alisha.”
She reached out and touched me. I pulled away.
“Hey,” she said in a gentle voice. “We’re your team. Why don’t you tell us what you’ve got going on in your life? Level with us. You’ll feel better.”
Koby stared with seeming disinterest out the window. Celia watched me with curious eyes.
I gave a big sigh. Level with them. I couldn’t do that. Too much was at stake. My identity had to be kept secret until the man responsible for my mother’s death and my father’s exile was behind bars. I planned to be alive when it came time to marry Brad. And that meant the lie had to continue for now.
The bus jerked as it took the corner.
I looked my teammates square in the eyes and got ready to tell a whopper. “I got in a fight with my, ummm…” Parents? Boyfriend? Husband? I opted for “… landlord, and he kicked me out. Uncle Denton is letting me live with him until things die down.”
The three of them stayed quiet as if waiting for more details.
I shrugged. “That’s all there is to it. End of story.”
The bus slowed and pulled up to the main stop on campus.
“See you tomorrow,” I said with a smile and wave as I escaped to my next class. My heart pounded in my ears. That had been too close. Farther down the sidewalk, I thumped the heel of my hand to my forehead. As if anyone believed that lame story.
I wasn’t cut out for a double life.
12
That night I made my way to the parlor to corner Denton like I’d promised. I lingered at the threshold a moment, my book tucked under one arm, hesitant to interrupt his ritual quiet time.
The professor relaxed on the settee. Blue cotton jammy bottoms poked out beneath a fastidious white terry robe. The man seemed so content with life. There he sat, reading the evening news, sipping a cup of steaming tea, surrounded by fine possessions in a beautifully renovated home.
I sighed with envy. How could he maintain such order on a daily basis when my life was one perpetual tailspin? He looked up. “Alisha.” His voice smiled though his face remained passive. “Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks.” I took a velvet-upholstered chair across from him.
“What’s on your mind tonight?” He closed his paper, rolling it and placing it on the sofa.
“I know you said there was no changing your mind about the teams in the Revamp Program. But,” I put out a hand to keep him from interrupting me, “something has gone really wrong with Team A and I want you to be aware of it.”
At his blank look, I told him the results of our spy mission.
“… so I really think you need to reconsider the whole competition thing, or at least get some teamwork going over there.”
I thought I saw a gleam in his eye, like he was laughing at the situation.
“It’s out of my hands,” he said. “This is a senior level program. I will not hand-feed adults who have the capacity to solve their own problems. This is part of the test, Alisha. If they don’t pass here, they’ll probably fail in the real world too. Let’s hope they figure out how to put pride behind them and get to work.”
His answer was a little too coldhearted for me. I had to speak up. “I’m not sure you really understand the scope of the project or what has to go into each of these renovations. It’s hard labor and requires forethought, planning, and teamwork. Lots and lots of teamwork.” My finger pointed in emphasis.
“Look around you.” He glanced at the coved ceiling, the curved staircase, the moldings, the fireplace, the
