“Ah, you four,” he said. “It’s never good when you come to see me together.” He raised an eyebrow. “What burned down?”
“This school’s reputation, for one thing,” Sam said as she marched inside.
“What?” Mr. Davenport asked as we followed her inside.
“We just saw a clip of the ‘reality’ show,” Noah said, making air quotes as he said “reality.” “And it’s anything but real.”
The four of us took turns telling Mr. Davenport what we had seen. Actually, just three of us. Amy only added the occasional “It’s horrible.”
The principal raised his hands. “Whoa, slow down. Joey warned me this might happen.”
“He did?” I asked.
Mr. Davenport nodded. “He said that the show was going to be more than just inventions. He said it had to be… what did he call it… character driven.”
“But it makes it look like everyone’s fighting,” Sam insisted.
Mr. Davenport shrugged. “Not everyone gets along all the time.”
“Yeah, but we think Joey’s starting fights to begin with,” Noah added.
“Really?” Mr. Davenport said with a raised eyebrow. “Did he make any of you read from a script? I know I didn’t during my interviews.” He glanced at his watch and grabbed his briefcase.
“But it’s the way they’re editing everything together,” Amy said, finally jumping in to support our argument.
Mr. Davenport was already moving toward the door again. “Look, I’m sure not everyone will be thrilled with how they appear on camera.” Mr. Davenport held out a hand, ushering us out. “It’s called a reality show for a reason. Sometimes reality isn’t as neat and tidy as a scripted program.”
Once we were back in the hallway, he turned and locked his office door. “I really have to be going, but I’ll ask Joey about it tomorrow, don’t you worry.”
Then Mr. Davenport walked out of the school and left us standing in the main entryway, dumbfounded.
“He didn’t believe us,” Amy said.
Sam threw up her hands. “See? We should’ve deleted everything.”
“It looks like Davenport fell for the hype like I did,” Noah said.
“We all did,” Amy admitted.
“What about your dad?” Sam asked me. “He’ll believe you, right?”
I nodded. “He should.”
“Well, that’s it, then,” Noah said. “He’ll put a stop to this.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll tell him tonight and then text you what he says.”
The four of us split up. As usual, I strolled down the street to Swift Enterprises. I often hung out there and finished my homework before my dad took me home. It was a very convenient arrangement for both of us.
As I walked toward the looming office building, my mind went back to all the things the other students had said about me on the video. If I went running to my dad to fix this problem, I would be exactly the kind of person those students said I was. Whether my classmates were manipulated or not, I didn’t want to come off that way. Besides, my father has told me in the past that he didn’t have any say in how Mr. Davenport ran the school. Perhaps telling Dad wasn’t the answer after all.
By the time I entered the office building, I already had a plan B in mind. I marched toward the reception desk. Mr. Cruz sat in his usual spot, typing on his keyboard. The thin man smiled when he saw me.
“Afternoon, Tom. Your father told me to tell you that he’s in a meeting and he’ll find you when he’s done.” Mr. Cruz pulled out a visitor’s badge and slid it across the counter.
“Thanks,” I said. “Actually, can you tell me where Ms. Jensen’s office is? I’ve never been to the PR department.”
“Oh,” Mr. Cruz said, his eyebrows raised. “I guess you haven’t heard. Ms. Jensen is no longer with the company.”
So much for plan B.
12
The Simultaneous Simulation
THE NEXT MORNING, I HAD my dad take me to school early. I hadn’t told him about the reality show, much to the frustration of my friends. We had all video-chatted the night before, and I finally convinced them that there had to be a better way to stop the show. After some brainstorming, I think we had it.
As soon as I arrived, I stowed my gear and then ran up to robotics. I made sure my robot was fully charged and brought it with me down to the editing suite. As I’d hoped, Danny and Joey were already there.
“Tom,” Joey said, his eyes alight. “Just the man I want to see.”
“Hi,” I said as I hauled my robot toward the confessional. “I was hoping to talk about my new invention today.”
“Oh, uh…” He stroked his beard. “Actually, that’s something for the other camera crews. In here, we just record your thoughts and feelings about everything.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to look disappointed. “Actually, the real reason I brought it along is because I was hoping to hide it here.”
“Hide it? From whom?”
“Noah,” I replied. “He threatened to tear it up the next time he saw it.”
A smile pulled at Joey’s lips. He held up a finger. “Hold that thought,” he said before ushering me to the chair in front of the camera. Once he was seated beside the camera, he turned it on. “Okay, tell me again. Why do you want to hide your robot?”
I repeated what I’d said before. “Noah said that the only reason I got the idea for it was because of his app.”
Joey nodded thoughtfully. He couldn’t hide his delight. “And how do you feel about that?”
“I couldn’t believe it! Noah and I are supposed to be friends.”
Joey turned toward the curtain. “Danny, play back Newton fourteen, will ya?”
“You got it,” Danny replied, and the screen beside the camera snapped on. It showed Noah in the confessional.
“Me? Jealous of Tom Swift?” Noah on the screen asked. “Did he invent a cool app
