Code(35)

The cafeteria went still. Everyone watched the boys square off.

“I’m not a violent person, Blue.” Jason bit off the words. “But I’ve had enough of your mouth. I’ll kick your ass right here.”

Ben’s jaw tightened. “You think so, rich boy?”

“You heard me.” A vein was bulging in Jason’s neck.

Ben’s breathing quickened. The tiniest spark of gold flickered in his irises.

My stomach backflipped.

Oh my God! He’s going to flare!

“Get him out of here!” I hissed at Shelton and Hi. “Hurry!”


Recognizing the danger, Hi jumped to his feet, planted both hands on Ben’s chest and pushed him toward the door, whispering, “Use your head, use your head, use your head!”

Ben tried to hold his ground, but Shelton joined the effort. “Get it together! People are watching. Don’t lose control!”

Slowly, the duo managed to back Ben away, but his glare never strayed from Jason. At the exit, Ben shrugged free and stalked down the hall alone.

I took my first breath since Jason stood.

Crisis averted, but barely.

Excited chatter filled the room. As classmates watched our table, hoping for more drama, Jason hastily retook his seat.

“That was . . .” I struggled for words. “Jason, I’m so sorry. I don’t know why—”

“You really don’t, do you?” Jason snapped. “Everyone else can figure it out.”

“Figure out what?”

“Never mind. I’ll get in touch with Marchant. It might take a few days for him to call you. That okay?”

“Yes.” It would have to be. “And thank you again.”

But his comment bothered me. “When you said everyone else—”

“I’ve got to get going.” Rising quickly. “We’ll talk again soon.”

Jason strode through the doors, nodding to Shelton and Hi as they hurried back to the table. The three of us huddled close, our lunches forgotten.

“What in God’s name was that?” Hi looked as alarmed as I felt.

“I saw your expression, Tor.” Shelton’s eyes darted, scanning for eavesdroppers. “Ben almost slipped, didn’t he? Almost . . . changed?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“Not good.” Hi ran a hand down his face. “Not good at all.”

“We’ve got to keep those two apart for a while.” Shelton dodged my eye. “Let them cool down.”

I rubbed my forehead, in a daze. “They’ve never been this bad before.”

The look in Ben’s eyes when Jason challenged him—it’d been dangerous. Borderline irrational. For him to get so angry he nearly flared in public . . . How could he allow such a loss of self-control? Would it happen again?

“Ben’s always had a temper,” I said, “but lately he’s off the chain. Do you have any idea why?”

“Um. Huh.” Hi wasn’t looking at me. “I mean, look. I’m sure whatever it is, he’ll get over it. Things happen. We should just give him some space.”

“Space.” Shelton was inspecting a thumbnail. “That’s probably the best thing.”

My eyes narrowed. Did these two know more than they were letting on?

I was about to probe further when Hi spoke. “Jason said we might not hear from Marchant for days. How much time do we have left?”

The Game. I’d almost forgotten.

I rooted inside my backpack, keeping the iPad hidden. Checked the timer.

“Thirty-six hours. Until tomorrow midnight.”

“Then we can’t wait,” Shelton said. “We’ve got to solve the puzzle.”

“You’re right.” I slapped the tabletop in frustration. “I’m tired of being jerked around like a yo-yo.”

“I hate it too,” Hi said. “But for now, we have to follow the script. No choice.”

“We need an idea.” Shelton tapped a finger. “Some plan of attack.”

He was right.

But I didn’t have one.

And we were running out of time.

Tick tick tick.





CHAPTER 19





“Tory! Get down here for dinner!”

Blargh.

I slipped the iPad into a drawer. No progress, though I’d scanned and uploaded the image. Shelton was combing the Internet for a match.

“Tory!” Kit’s voice had reached level two.

“Coming!”

Gathering my hair with chopsticks, I hurried downstairs. Whitney was there, of course. I hadn’t been informed she was dining with us. Of course.

Coop padded over and nuzzled my hand.

“Good boy.” I pointed to his corner. “Place.”

Coop yawned, then retreated to his doggie bed in the living room. Whitney eyed him, wary of a wolfdog sneak attack. Please.

Recently, I’d been working on Coop’s begging. Kit had put his foot down—no four-leggers tableside during meals. No exceptions.

Coop obeyed me most of the time. When it suited him.

I didn’t mind if Coop ruffled Whitney’s feathers—she was a self-important, dog-hating whiner. But it put Kit in a tight spot. Best not to make waves.