The Similars (The Similars #1)(89)

“Punch in the code,” says one of the guys. “Come on! It’s not that hard!”

“Why don’t you do it yourself if it’s so easy?”

The person who spoke first doesn’t reply. As I get a better look, I see that it’s Jaeger Stanwick. Even now, watching this fourth memory, it’s still surreal seeing them—our parents—as young Darkwood students.

Jaeger squats, his knuckles white as he clamps his fingers into nervous fists. The second figure, the one fiddling with a keypad, is Johnny Underwood. Next to him is Zeke Choate.

“Got it,” says Johnny as a loud beep rings out. He’s unlocked a steel box.

A metal door swings open, and three animals peer out of a cage. I can’t tell what kind of animals they are at first; they look like a strange cross between a dog and a fox. They have foxlike snouts and bushy tails, but their ears lie flat like golden retrievers’.

“Hey, little guys,” Zeke coos at them. “You’re free. Go on! You’re free!” The animals simply stare at him and sniff.

“If anyone is having second thoughts about this, the time to voice them is now,” Jaeger says under his breath.

“Too late,” says Johnny as the animals emerge from the cage tentatively. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not shoving them back in there. Let’s go! We’ll open the main door and let them out. Then I’ll double lock the front door from the outside, put the override code on, and we’ll make a run for it.”

“Why are we doing this again?” Zeke whines as he prods the animals toward the door. They are docile and not particularly eager to run away. Now that they’ve made it out of their cage, they don’t know what to do.

Suddenly, an alarm rings out. The three boys freeze in their tracks.

“Run!” Zeke shouts to Johnny and Jaeger. Then the scene goes black.

*

We’re in the Tower Room of a Darkwood dormitory. Several stern adults—two men and two women—sit at the end of a mahogany table. At the other end, Johnny Underwood sits in a blazer and tie looking like he hasn’t slept in weeks. Dark circles rim his eyes. His hair is greased back behind his ears. A few other students sit along the perimeter of the room, also looking serious. I immediately recognize Zeke Choate and Jaeger Stanwick. Jane Porter is there, and next to her, Booker Ward. My father is noticeably absent.

“We’ve reviewed your classmates’ account of the evening of March fifteenth, and there were no discrepancies in your stories.” I’m stunned to see it’s none other than Headmaster Ransom talking. Gone is his gray-flecked hair and laugh lines. He is a relatively young man. “However,” Ransom continues, “there is one account of the night in question that we would like to review again. We’ve asked Albert Seymour to answer a few additional questions for the board. Albert?”

There’s a shuffling at the back of the room, and I scan the room to find him standing up from his chair, dropping a notebook, and bending nervously to pick it up again.

“Here,” Albert mumbles. “I’m here.”

“Have a seat at the table, please,” Ransom instructs. “Next to your brother.”

There’s a noticeable buzz in the room as that word is spoken. Brother.

Albert drops his satchel on top of the shiny wood veneer. Johnny doesn’t look at him.

“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Seymour,” says Headmaster Ransom. “Is it true that on the day and the evening of March fifteenth, you were not present on the Darkwood campus?”

Albert shifts in his chair. “Yes. That is correct.”

“And where were you at the time?”

“In New York City,” Albert says quietly. “On a trip.”

“A trip?” Ransom presses. “What was the nature of that trip?”

Albert purses his lips before answering. “It was a family matter. I was in New York visiting my father.”

At the mention of their father, it’s as though Johnny has been punched in the gut.

“You were visiting your father,” Ransom repeats, making a note on the pad in front of him. “Ms. Fleischer? Do we have proof that Mr. Seymour was absent that day?” I turn my head to Ransom’s left, surprised I didn’t notice her before. Though she’s a good twenty years younger in the memory, and judging from the way Ransom just addressed her, probably still a Latin teacher and not yet the principal of the school, she is still every bit the Principal Fleischer I know. Her face retains that weathered, perpetually stern look I’ve always known. Maybe she never looked young.

“Definitive proof,” she barks. “Albert missed a midterm exam. World history. Made arrangements to reschedule it for the next afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Ransom says. “Mr. Seymour? You produced a train ticket for the administration, dated and time-stamped for March fifteenth?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And so, we can assume that it was not you who punched in the code that gave access to the animal laboratory on the eve of March fifteenth? The laboratory where you—and only you—were conducting an experiment by special permission from the science department. Can you tell us about this experiment?”

Albert fidgets in his seat, shooting a look at Johnny, who continues to stare at the table. “I was working with those animals—the ones that were set free—on a lengthy study that had begun one year earlier. Because that laboratory houses top-secret experiments by Darkwood faculty and visiting scholars, it is usually closed to students.”