Among the Barons

“Lee’s brother,” he finally said quietly. “Lee’s brother is coming to school here. Tomorrow.”

“Yes, your brother,” Mr. Hendricks repeated. “You are Lee.”

“Aw, Mr. Hendricks,” Luke protested. “It’s just you and me. We don’t have to pretend, do we? And the other kids — they know I’m not really Lee Grant This Smits kid is going to know I’m not his brother. So we don’t have to act like it, do we?”

Mr. Hendricks just looked at Luke. Luke couldn’t stop the flow of questions. “Why’s he coming here, anyway?”

“He misses his older brother,” Mr. Hendricks said. “He misses you.”

The “older” was a surprise. Luke felt even stranger now.

“Mr. Hendricks, I never even knew Lee had a brother. This kid couldn’t miss me. He’s never met me. What’s really going on here?”

Mr. Hendricks seemed to sag a bit against the back of his chair.

“I’m only repeating what his parents told me over the phone this morning,” he said.

“Well, of course,” Luke said. “They know it’s not safe to say anything real over the phone. They know the Population Police tap phone lines all the time. This is all some… some mix-up or something.”

“Luke — Lee, I mean — I don’t really know what’s going on here. But I think it’s best to proceed with caution. You do need to begin acting like Lee. You do need to pretend that you know Smits well, as a brother. For the sake of everyone involved.”

Usually Luke had a lot of respect for Mr. Hendricks, but now he couldn’t resist making a face.

“That’s crazy,” Luke said. “Why pretend when nobody’s going to be fooled?”

“Nobody?” Mr. Hendricks countered. “Nobody? Don’t be so sure. Actors can’t always know who’s in the audience.”

Luke shook his head disdainfully.

“This is Hendricks School,” he said. “This isn’t Population Police headquarters. This isn’t some Government convention. We’re safe here. Everyone knows we’re almost all third children with fake I.D.’s. Nobody’s going to report us.”

“Really,” Mr. Hendricks said. “Is your memory that short? What about Jason?”

Jason had been a Population Police spy who’d infiltrated the school. Just hearing his name could still send a shiver of fear through Luke’s body, but he held it back, tried not to let Mr. Hendricks see.

“Jason’s gone now,” Luke said. He was proud of the way he kept his voice level and calm. “And you said yourself, you’re screening new applicants better, you’re not going to let that happen again. And we’re all so… comfortable here now. We’re talking to one another about being illegal, about having fake I.D.’s. We’re all friends.”

Mr. Hendricks rolled over to the window and stared out at a cascade of forsythia that hid his house from the lane.

“I worry that you’ve all become too comfortable. That we’re not preparing you for…” He let his voice trail off. Then he looked back at Luke. “For reality. What if this Smits is another Jason?”

The question hung in the air. To escape Mr. Hendricks’s gaze, Luke glanced down at the photo of Smits. He saw cold gray eyes, a patrician nose, light hair, a sneer. Smits Grant was probably only eleven or twelve years old, but he might as well have been a miniature adult The look he had given the camera — and now seemed to be giving Luke— made Luke feel like a poor, dumb country kid again. Never mind that Luke himself was wearing leather shoes, tailored pants, and a fancy shirt and tie. He felt barefoot, snotty-nosed, and ignorant beyond words, compared with the photo of Smits.

“Can’t you tell him not to come?” Luke asked Mr.Hendricks. “Say he’s not allowed at your school? If you’re worried, I mean.”

“He’s Smithfield Grant,” Mr. Hendricks said. “His father — your father — is one of the most powerful men in the country. I’d have a better chance of stopping the wind than stopping a Grant from doing what he wants.”

“I’m a Grant, too,” Luke said. He wasn’t sure whether he was trying to make a joke or trying out the words, trying to make them sound true. His voice came out limp and uncertain, failing on all accounts.

But Mr. Hendricks nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Remember that.”

CHAPTER 3

Luke sat at the top of the steps that led to Hendricks School. Smits Grant was due to arrive any minute, and Luke had already begun his charade.

My brother’s on his way, Luke told himself I’m so excited, I couldn’t wait inside. I couldn’t stand it ~f I weren’t the first one to see him.

Nothing could have been further from the truth. Mr. Hendricks had all but threatened Luke with a firing squad just to get him outside. As far as Luke was concerned, he’d be happy if he never saw Smits.

Could that happen? What if Luke turned around now, hid inside, and somehow managed to stay out of Smits’s way forever? They ought to have different classes. Luke could find out the other boy’s schedule and make sure their paths never crossed. Luke had plenty of experience hiding.

Of course, to avoid Smits he’d also have to go without eating. All the boys always ate together, in the dining hall.

Luke just couldn’t see Mr. Hendricks agreeing to let Luke eat somewhere else.

And he didn’t want to. His friends would all be eating in the dining hall. What he really wanted was for Smits to be the one set apart, hidden. That is, if he had to be at Hendricks at all.

For perhaps the billionth time since he’d learned about Smits, Luke wondered, Why in the world would he want to come here?

Luke kept his eyes on the long, curving driveway A dark car turned in at the Hendricks School gates, disappeared behind a clump of trees, reappeared, and sped on toward the school. Luke’s stomach churned.

The car pulled up in front of the school. It seemed about as long as a tractor and a hay wagon combined. The windows — all ten of them — were tinted black, so Luke couldn’t tell if there was a boy inside staring out just as intently as Luke was staring in.

Oh, no. What if Smits’s parents had come, too?

Luke hadn’t thought of that before. Now panic coursed through his veins. He couldn’t meet all three Grants at once. He just couldn’t.

The driver’s door glided open — smoothly, like it was on oiled hinges. Luke held his breath, waiting to see who would appear. A polished boot stepped out, followed by a second one that seemed even shinier. Then a tall, aristocraticlooking man in a dark blue uniform and stiff cap stood up. The uniform had gold braid around the cuffs and collar, and at the rim of the cap. Luke could even have believed it was real gold, pure metal.

The man turned and practically marched, soldierlike, to the other side of the car. He opened a second door, held out his hand, and said, uSir?~~

So this wasn’t Mr. Grant This was a servant. A chauffeur.

Luke could see a very pale hand thrust out of the car and clasp the chauffeur’s. Then a boy stepped out. Luke recognized him from the picture of Smits Grant.

Somehow Luke managed to make his feet maneuver down the stairs, toward the car. Mr. Hendricks had made it quite clear: Luke had to act eager to see Smits. He had to rush over to him right away But Luke’s mind was racing faster than his feet.

What am I supposed to do when I get there? Shake his hand? Or — oh, no. What ~f the Grants are the type offamily who hug one another?

Luke stumbled at the bottom of the stairs but caught his balance again quickly. He didn’t think the chauffeur or Smits even noticed. They weren’t looking toward Luke. Luke planted his feet a mere yard from the younger boy, but he had to clear his throat before Smits turned his head toward Luke.