Undaunted

What do I do? I'm just one kid with a busted arm! Do I go running off for help? Or do I go running in to help? Fermat's thoughts flitted through his head like lightning. He knew that the odds sounded like they were against him. His feet did a little noiseless tattoo on the concrete as he turned in a circle, looking for someone, anyone around. I could run to Maplewood, or back to Oakwood, but by the time I found help--and made them understand me past my stutter... I need Alan!

Suddenly the new watch, which he wore on his right wrist, caught his eye. That's it! Mr. Tracy said use it in emergencies and this is one! I don't want IR here, but maybe John can get in touch with Alan!

His fingertips, encumbered by the cast, fumbled with the button on the top, the one that Mr. Tracy had pointed out would activate the watch. He blinked in surprise as the wide LCD screen that had displayed the time just a second before blanked out, to be replaced by a tiny picture of John Tracy, his very blond hair looking slightly green in the display. His mouth was moving, as if he was saying something, and Fermat looked back at him, puzzled. He scanned the face of the watch and saw the button marked, "Alarm". Let's see what this will do.

"...ermat, come in! What's your emergency!" John's voice sounded very loud in the night quiet.

Fermat looked around and then called softly, "John, can you hear me?"

"Yes! Finally! What's the emergency, Fermat?"

His shoulders hunched over to keep the little screen from prying eyes, not that there were any around. "There's a g-g-g... bunch of older b-boys around the corner of the d-dorm that are holding a-a-a... someone else! I n-need Alan!"

John frowned. "Didn't Dad tell you how to use this to communicate with each other?"

Fermat's eyes grew wide behind his glasses. "No! It can d-do that? C-Cool!"

John rolled his eyes. "Okay. I'll download the instructions to yours and Alan's email boxes as soon as I can. It will come from my personal box. But for now, I'll buzz Alan for you and connect the two of you. Stand by."

We can use these to talk to each other? Sweet!

Alan was moving through the crowds in the auditorium, looking for his friends and renewing acquaintances with other boys from the year before. He caught Miss Gerrick watching him, and nodded at her, then turned to walk away. Suddenly his watch vibrated, leaving his arm feeling as if an electric shock had gone through it. "Agghh!" he cried, first shaking the limb, then grabbing his wrist, nearly doing a little jig in his surprise. Looking around, he saw people looking at him, with a variety expressions, from puzzlement to frowns of irritation.

He smiled sheepishly and gesturing to his wrist, said, "Uh... spider." Turning, he hastily left the auditorium, looking for a nice quiet spot so he could examine the device. Ducking into the nearest restroom, he shut himself in a toilet stall, and looked at the watch. The numbers that told him the time had been replaced with a blinking message that said "Incoming Transmission". What do I do here? Let's see what happens if I press... this.

Putting a finger on the button that his father said would signal John, he was surprised and pleased to see his blond older brother looking back at him. "Hey, John! What's up?"

"Fermat needs you," John said succinctly. "I'm going to link you to him now. I'll talk to you later, though. Transferring, now."

John's bright hair was replaced by the fish-eye image of Fermat's pale face, looking gray in the lack of light. "Fermat, where are you? What's wrong?"

"I'm on the walk b-b-between Oakwood and M-Maplewood, Alan," he hissed, the near whisper sounding louder than it should to Alan's thinking. "There are s-some older b-boys, or maybe even m-m-m... adults, holding s-s-s... come quick, Alan! I gotta g-go help!"

"Fermat! Wait!" he cried, but it was too late. Fermat's face disappeared, but the picture didn't stop. It swung crazily around, with light and dark objects whipping past, indistinct. He heard Fermat call out to someone, but couldn't make out what he was saying.

Damn! Gotta go help. But I'll pick up some backup on the way out.

Alan slammed open the toilet stall door, and ran for the hallway, ducking under the arms of a couple of seniors who were entering the restroom, and who gazed after him in surprise as he slipped past. He hurried into the auditorium, looking frantically for Qaeshon, or Jason, or any of his other close buddies. Finally, he spotted Jason, and with him, Ralph. He quickly made his way through the crowds to them, pulling on Jason's sleeve.

"C'mon. Fermat's in trouble."

Jason frowned. "Trouble? What kind of trouble?"

"Don't know yet," Alan said, figuring it was too hard to explain at that point. He yanked on Jason's arm. "Come on!"

The threesome left in a hurry, Alan picking up the rear at first, glancing back to see if anyone noticed or was following. Then he took the lead, breaking into a sprint that took him through the tiled, covered area that separated the cafeteria from the rest of the Student Union building, which housed public spaces like the infirmary and the game room. Jason was hard-pressed to keep up, but Ralph matched Alan stride for stride as they pounded up the walkways.

As they reached the space between the two buildings, Alan slowed, motioning for his back up team to be quiet. Then he motioned for them to follow his lead. Crouching low, the three young men crept up on the scene, hearing only a couple of low voices beyond the bushes. The leader waved his hand at his followers in a silent command to draw near, then hissed, "On three." Then he put his fingers up one at a time and when the third finger made its appearance, the trio rushed out of concealment. Alan had opened his mouth to shout, but was suddenly brought up short, physically and mentally, by the sight of Fermat, unharmed, standing upright and supporting a disheveled and upset Qaeshon.

Alan put his hands up and said, almost casually, "Oh, hey, Fermat."

Ralph shook his head and detoured around his fearless leader. "Kay! What happened?"

"They tore up my orchestra jacket!" The dark-skinned boy was almost weeping in his anger and frustration.

Jason made a turn around the site, looking at the scattered and shredded papers strewn all over the grass. "And they tore up your music, too," he reported.

"How many were there, and what did they want?" Jason asked, putting his hand on Qaeshon's shoulder. He motioned his head toward Alan. "Go get Mr. Magnuson. He'll want to see this."

Alan nodded, and took off full tilt back the way he had come. On the way, he found Lee Sugimoto and Xavion Lewis talking in front of the Birchwood dorm, where Xavion lived. "Hey!" Alan called. "Xavion, Kay's been attacked..."

"Where? Where is he?" Xavion asked quickly, genuine concern coloring his voice. "Show me."

"Can't. Gotta get Mr. Mag," Alan explained.

"I'll get Mr. Mag," Lee told him. "You show Zave where Kay is."

Alan nodded and tapped Xavion on the forearm, leading him off to find his younger brother. A quick glance back showed Sugi running like the wind to the Student Union, where the security office was located.

As they neared the spot, they could hear Ralph gently questioning Qaeshon. "So, you didn't recognize any of them?"

"No," Qaeshon responded, calmer now that he was surrounded by his friends. "They were at least seniors, if not older... Zave!"

"It's all right, Kay," Xavion said, approaching his younger brother. "I'm here."

He was surprised to see Qaeshon back away from him. "You! You had something to do with this! I just know it! I wouldn't join track so you set these guys on me!"

Xavion's mouth dropped open. "Me?" he sputtered. "No way! I had nothing to do with this, Kay! Sure, I'd like you to join track, but... I know how much you love music. If I couldn't persuade you on my own..." He gestured toward the scattered, torn shreds of music. "Kay, I'd never do this to you. Honest."

Alan's eyes flicked from brother to brother. He quickly stepped forward, and put himself between the two young men, body facing the elder, but looking over his shoulder at the younger. "Kay, calm down. It's cool. We'll get to the bottom of this." He turned his head back to speak to the elder brother. "Zave, maybe you'd better see what's keeping Mr. Mag, huh? It's getting late and I for one don't want to be caught outside after curfew."

Xavion glowered at Alan for a moment, then his shoulders relaxed and he nodded. "I'll see what's keeping Mr. Mag." Turning, he strode out of the clearing, his stride breaking into a run as he went in search of security.

"Thanks, Pinky," Qaeshon said, putting a hand on Alan's shoulder. He sighed, crossed his legs at the ankles and sat down heavily. Looking up at Alan, Jason, and Ralph, he gave the boys a half-hearted smile. "I was so glad to see you guys show up." He motioned toward Fermat. "But not as glad as I was to see the Brain over there. He came running around the corner, yelling at the top of his lungs. By that time the guys were already taking off, yelling at me, dissing me. But the Brain made them move a little faster, I think. He sounded like some sort of... I don't know... some sort of horde or something."

Fermat blushed, though it was hard to see in the darkness, and he shrugged. "H-Had to d-d-d-d... act."

Ralph squatted down so he was eye level with Qaeshon. "So, what did they want?"

Qaeshon shook his head slowly. "I dunno. They kept going on and on about what a wimp I was, playing music when I could be going out for a sport. Kept talking about how lame the classics were and that maybe if I could play rock I'd be worth something." He lowered his head and picked at the grass. "Those are some of the kinds of things Zave says to me sometimes. That's why I thought he might have put these guys up to it." He paused, then said, "I'm damn glad I didn't have my violin with me. No telling what they would have done to that."

"Yeah. I'm glad it's safe," Alan said, crouching down. "Listen, Kay? I know you don't want to hear this right now, but... I don't think Zave had anything to do with this. He seemed too... shocked about it when I told him." Putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, he continued, "I know all about brothers and their reactions. I can usually tell if mine are pulling my chain or are really being... real. Y'know? Well, except maybe for Gordon if he's playing a prank. He's got wide-eyed innocent down pat." He squeezed the shoulder. "Cut him some slack and let Mr. Mag work on this. He'll find out who did it."

Qaeshon sighed again. "Yeah, okay, Pinky. I'll... cut him some slack." He held out his fist and first Alan, then Ralph each tapped it with his own. There was a rustling, then a figure carrying a bright flashlight came around the corner. The boys all turned to see who it was, the ones still standing up squinting in the light.

"So, looks like we've had a bit of trouble here," came the deep voice of the head of campus security, Mr. Magnuson. He strode into the clearing, accompanied by Xavion and Lee. "Who's going to tell me what's been going on?"

Mr. Magnuson had almost completed gathering the evidence he needed, and had questioned all the boys. He was still talking to Quashon, telling him that the local police might need to be brought in. Jason gestured for Ralph to join him, then pulled Alan and Fermat aside. He folded his hands across his chest and glared at the two buddies. "Okay, Pinky. Spill. How did you know about all this? You said Fermat was in trouble. How did you know?"

Alan and Fermat glanced at each other. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. Alan was about to open his mouth and say, "Uh, lucky guess?" when Fermat jumped in. He held out his right arm and said simply, "This!"

Now it was Ralph and Jason's turn to give each other a look. Jason's face took on a puzzled expression as he studied Fermat's arm. "What?"

Alan frantically nudged Fermat, but the younger boy had an idea and was going to go through with it. "The w-w-watch! Isn't it c-c-c... great? It's a t-t-two-way wrist r-r-radio!"

Ralph and Jason closed in on Fermat, looking at the watch as well as they could in the dark. "It's cool... if that's what it is," Ralph stated. "How'd you get it?"

"F-F-From my dad!" Fermat explained. "W-We're b-b-b-beta testing it f-for him." He looked over at Alan as if asking for support.

Alan nodded slightly, then stuck out his own arm. "Yeah. Tracy Industries wants to be the first on the market with them. Pretty soon they'll replace cell phones..."

Fermat frowned at him over the heads of the other two boys and Alan knew he'd gone one step too far in his explanation. He shrugged slightly at Fermat, basically saying that what was done was done.

"Wow! That's pretty cool!" Jason said, finally looking up from his scrutiny of Alan's watch. "I'm gonna tell my folks I want one."

"Welllll," Alan hemmed. "It'll be some time before they're on the market, y'know, and that's only if the beta testing goes well. So it wouldn't help much to ask for one now."

"R-R-Right!" Fermat chimed in. "It could be a y-y-year or more before they're in p-p-production. M-M-M... Closer to t-t-two or th-three."

"Oh, okay," Jason said, nodding in agreement. "Tell me when they're ready to buy, though. I really want one!"

"Sure!" Alan lied, knowing full well that the watches would probably never be used outside his family.

"Hey, guys," Ralph said, looking at his own watch. "We'd better get moving. Curfew's in five minutes and lights out is in twenty."

They all looked back at Qaeshon, still talking to Mr. Mag, Xavion by his side. Lee saw them gazing over there, and came to join them. "You ready to go, Tracy? Mr. Mag said he'd give Kay and Zave special permission to stay up late and talk to the locals when they arrive."

"Yeah, I'm ready." The two roommates started off. Alan turned around, walking backwards as he pointed at his friends with both hands. "See you guys at breakfast. Fermat, look for me. I doubt Kay's going to be awake for it."

"R-R-Right!" Fermat pointed with his one good hand back at Alan, who turned around again and followed Lee out into the quadrangle.

"C'mon, Jase," Ralph said, giving his roommate a nudge. "See you tomorrow, Brain."

"O-Okay. Later, g-g-guys," Fermat responded. The two boys left, and after a moment, Fermat followed. He hurried along the walkway to Maplewood, and climbed the stairs to the lobby. Once in the elevator, he slumped against the wall, feeling tired and sleepy. When the elevator door opened, he stumbled down the hall to his room, putting his good hand up to the scanner lock.

The door slid open to reveal Andrew John Trumbull lying on his bunk, elbows propping him up, reading from a novel. He was already wearing his pajamas, and he looked down at Fermat with a raised eyebrow. "Where have you been?" he asked, a touch of snideness to his voice.

Fermat glared up at him, then turned to pull his own nightwear from his drawers. "H-H-H... aiding a f-friend. N-N-Not that it's any of your b-b-business."

"I hope that coming in this close to lights out isn't going to be a habit. I like to go to bed early."

Fermat didn't even reply. He took his clothes into the bathroom and changed, fumbling with the pajama pants but happy that he had a button down top that he could ease over his cast. The five minute warning sounded as he was dealing with the last button. He stuffed his dirty uniform into the mesh bag, used the toilet, washed his hands and brushed his teeth. When he came back into the room, he made a mental note to put his laundry bag out for pick up in the morning, and wondered if he should mention to Trumbull that the next day was laundry day. No, he decided. Trumbull's a smart kid. He'll figure that out himself. The boy in question already had his blanket pulled up and nearly covering his head.

The lights went out just as Fermat had pulled the covers down. Snuggling in with a sigh, he closed his eyes. If only I'd just rushed in when I first heard the struggle, he thought sadly. Maybe those guys wouldn't have torn up the music. But then again, maybe they would have turned on me. Why is it so hard to know what to do?

Alan was looking forward to his strength training class with Mr. Beccara. He had done some with his brothers over the summer and expected to continue at the level he was at when he left the island. But the first class was spent introducing the class to the equipment, and today, Mr. Beccara was going over the major muscle groups. "You have to know what muscle groups you're working before you start, because each exercise we'll be doing will target one or more of these groups."

He clicked his computer's remote, and on the wall appeared a chart. It had two male figures on it, one a front view and the other seen from behind, but looking as if the skin had been stripped away and all you could see were the muscles. Using a laser pointer, he began to circle the major muscle groups and name them. Alan looked down at the corresponding paper handout and began to fill in the names as Mr. Beccara indicated where on the body they were and flashed up the correct spelling of the groups. This is boring, he thought. I want to get to the gym!

Fermat was having difficulty in his pre-engineering class. Despite the fact that he could type almost as fast with one hand as two, he was far less accurate and found he had to go back and correct some of the spelling in his notes. It galled him to have things typed inaccurately; like his father, he was a perfectionist when it came to research or design. Not necessarily when it came to the way he dressed or keeping clean. He glanced down at his shirt cuff at one point and noticed, almost offhandedly, that he had a glob of ketchup smeared there from his lunch. The observation occupied a split second of his thought, then he was back to taking notes, the little fact tucked away for a later, exasperated realization.

Their last period classes could not have ended any sooner. Alan was itching to run back to his dorm and change into his athletic clothes for the track tryouts. Fermat was drowsy from the warmth of the classroom, and the effects of his painkiller. So when the final bell rang at 2:50, they were ready. Alan crammed his books into his backpack, folding and crumpling the papers he had received from the teachers that day. Fermat slowly, sleepily filled up his bookbag and put his computer into its case. Then he plodded out to the hallway, where Alan was waiting, bouncing up and down impatiently.

Alan grabbed Fermat's bookbag, and said, "Come on! I've got to get to the tryouts!" then took off down the hallway to the stairs. He waited for Fermat to catch up, motioning for him to hurry.

But the younger boy felt like he was moving through molasses, and couldn't seem to put on enough speed to suit the eager Alan. "Alan! W-W-W... Hold up!"

Alan stopped again, and looked back, then jogged back to where Fermat stood, leaning against the wall. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Y-Y-Y-eah, I'll be f-f-fine," Fermat said. "Listen, I'm j-j-just slowing you d-down. I'll t-t-take the bookbag and you g-g-go on."

"Are you sure?" Alan frowned at his friend, as he handed over the bookbag.

"Y-Y-Yeah. G-G-Go on." Fermat waved a hand. "I'll f-f-find someone to h-h-h... assist me."

With one last, worried glance back at his friend, Alan hurried off, sprinting toward his dorm so he could change.

Fermat leaned up against the wall and sighed heavily. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, and when he put them back on he found himself meeting the gaze of Andrew John Trumbull. His roommate looked him up and down. Fermat straightened, pulling himself to his full height, an eyebrow rising behind his lenses. Then Trumbull shrugged and followed the dwindling crowd out of the building.

The tired teen slipped the strap to the computer case over his head, settling it so it crossed over the sling, then wearily picked up the heavy bookbag. He took a few steps away from the wall and was nearly run down by Qaeshon.

"Hey, Brain!" the dark-skinned boy said. "What's up? Where's Pinky?"

"H-He's off t-t-to t-t-track tryouts," Fermat explained. "I was s-s-slowing him down."

"Well, you look pretty whipped if I do say so myself," Qaeshon remarked, taking the bookbag from Fermat's hand. "Hey, I owe you for last night. Let me help you haul this back to your room. Then I've got to run to the music room and talk to Mr. Giotta about the music and the coat."

The two of them walked out of the building and up toward the Student Union. "So, you got much homework?" Qaeshon asked.

"Not too m-m-much," Fermat said. "I th-think I m-m-might call my d-d-d... father. Just to t-t-touch base."

"Good idea. I had to talk to mine last night about the whole incident," Qaeshon said ruefully. "He wasn't too happy about the extra expense, but he knew it wasn't my fault."

Fermat nodded in agreement and sympathy. Yeah, I'm sure I'll be hearing from my dad about using the new radios last night. He turned to Qaeshon. "D-D-Do they know who d-did it?"

"Nah. Mr. Mag said it was too soon," his friend replied. "But they hope that there were fingerprints left on the music or something. At first they were kinda bummed that we had trampled all over the place, but I think they found footprints farther away." He made a face. "Mr. Mag says that investigations like this take time, but not to get my hopes up. Bullying isn't on the top of the police department's list of major crimes."

"Your d-d-dad gonna d-do anything?"

Qaeshon shrugged. "Replace the coat and the music and check in with the cops every so often. He tells me not to run around campus alone at night anymore. Can't help doing that sometimes, though."

"I-I know." It had just occurred to Fermat that he had been walking around alone that night too. Suddenly, the small campus that he had considered safe didn't feel as safe anymore.

Alan ran up to the athletics field and made his deadline with just a few minutes to spare. Coach Evans stood with a number of seniors, including Lee Sugimoto and Xavion Lewis, talking to a small group of underclassmen. Alan joined them and watched as Lee pointed out something to coach, who didn't even break stride in his lecture as he made a mark on his electronic clipboard.

"Okay. Lewis here will take you out and lead you in some warm up and stretching exercises for fifteen minutes. Don't skimp! Stretching and warm up are extremely important no matter what sport you're into. When the fifteen minutes is up, he'll direct you to whatever area of track and field you're interested in, and either myself or Mr. Becarra will be watching and judging your performance. And before you ask: no, the final cuts won't be made today. Now, follow Lewis."

Alan hung back as Xavion led the aspiring team members out to the grassy oval within the track. Coach Evans looked up and said, "I've got you, Tracy. Get out there and warm up."

Grinning, Alan said, "You got it, Coach." Then he hurried to catch up with the rest of the small group.

Xavion lead the group through some calisthenics and stretches. Alan felt right at home; these were the things John had done with him before they went running, and Scott had done with him when he was teaching martial arts or if they were in the weight room. He'd had it drilled into his head that warming up was integral to getting the body ready for action and keeping it from getting injured so easily. As a result, the fifteen minutes flew by and Alan had worked up a healthy bit of sweat. The older boy then directed two thirds of the group over to the track's starting line, where Mr. Becarra waited. The rest of the boys, five in number, were asked individually what they planned on doing.

"High jump and pole vault," Alan said when asked. "Oh, and cross country, too."

"Over there for the jumps, Tracy," Xavion informed him, pointing down the field to where the vaulting bar and the foam cushion for landing had been set up. "Cross country is tomorrow. Make sure you tell Coach that you're interested."

"Okay. Thanks!" Alan said, and he jogged down the field toward his goal. As he did, the first set of sprinters came barrelling around the oval and down the straightaway.

"There you are, Tracy," Coach Evans said as he approached. "I want to see this little jumping maneuver that Sugimoto says you have. You ready to show me?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm ready," Alan said, his palms suddenly becoming a bit more sweaty.

"Sugimoto measured the distance to the top bunk in your room, and the bar is set just a couple of centimeters below that. Let's see how you do."

Alan pulled back at an angle to the bar, trying to get a feel for how far back he needed to go. It was easier in the dorm; after all, he had a wall or door to stop him. When he felt he was back far enough, he took a deep breath and began to run toward the bar.

He knew he was in trouble before he even got to it. He had gotten too far out and it had taken too many strides for him to approach the take off point. As a result, his stronger leg, the one that he was used to pushing off with, wasn't in the position to propel him upwards as high as he needed to go. It was too late to stop, so he tried pushing off with the other leg. He twisted in mid-air, watching as the bar passed before his face, then he fell with a graceless thump onto the foam cushion.

Bouncing back up, and muttering a cuss word under his breath, he clenched his fists in frustration. The coach was making notes on his electronic pad, and Alan strode up to him. "Please, Coach. Let me try again. I'm better than that. I do this all the time."

Coach Evans looked up at him, and Alan saw his reflection in the old man's sunglasses. "Can you tell me why you weren't able to do it this time?"

"Yeah, I can. I got too far back and the leg I usually launch with wasn't in position when I reached the bar."

The coach looked over at Lee, who stood impassively nearby, then nodded his head. "Okay, Tracy. Just as long as you didn't choke. Go ahead and give it another shot."

Alan smiled grimly and nodded. He measured back from the bar this time, getting a feel for the distance he needed. This time, he took a couple of deep breaths, drawing the air in through his nose and letting out through his mouth. He stood still for a moment, then began to run toward the bar again.

This time he knew he had it. His leg was positioned just right and propelled him upwards. Time seemed to slow as he turned in mid-air again, presenting his back to the bar, feeling his shoulders slide over it without touching, the rest of his body obediently following. He got a tiny glimpse of his own feet, about to hit the bar and possibly dislodge it. Throwing his hips downwards, he propelled his feet up, coming down with what seemed to be an agonizing slowness onto his rump, creasing the thick cushion. He slapped his arms down as if he were being thrown by Scott during a judo class, and suddenly, it was over. Time resumed its normal speed, and Alan found himself bounced up a bit by the spongy pad. He glanced over at the coach, who was nodding slowly, a small smile on his lips.

"Not bad, Tracy, not bad. We'd have to work on technique a little, but overall, a decent jump."

Alan grinned. I may have just found my sport!

For Alan, the rest of the tryouts weren't quite as triumphant as his high jump. When asked if he knew how to pole vault, he had to admit that he didn't, and the coach waved him aside to let those who had had some experience through. Alan was surprised that some of the newer boys had the experience. Wonder what kind of middle schools they went to? Coach Evans did want him, and all the boys were interested in the field events, to try out for the long jump and the triple jump. Alan didn't do as well with the latter, but the coach looked pleased with the former. Alan passed on the shot put and the discus throw, but tried his hand at the javelin. He didn't think he'd done too badly, but it was hard to say.

By the time all of this was done, the afternoon was darkening into evening, and the field's lights had come on. Mr. Becarra brought the weary runners over to the smaller group that was gathered around the coach.

"Now, boys. Tomorrow there will be two more events to try out for: cross-country and the hurdles. I want to know who is interested in trying out for those events. Cross-country first."

Several boys, including Alan, raised their hands. Mr. Becarra helped the coach with the names of those who wanted to sign up, then the coach repeated the process with those interested in the hurdles. When that was finished, the coach spoke to the group.

"It was very evident to both me and to Mr. Becarra that you were all trying hard today. You should all be proud of the effort you put forth. It's going to be difficult for me to make the final selections. However, if you don't make the cut, don't let it get you down. Instead, take your energy and enthusiasm and put it to good use in one of the school's other extracurricular activities." He paused. "Okay, you're all dismissed. I'll see those of you who are trying out for the remaining two events here tomorrow at three thirty, sharp."

Alan rotated his shoulders as he started walking back to Chetwood. He felt like getting a shower and clean clothes before eating dinner.

"Hey, Tracy!"

Alan turned to see Lee and Xavion come up on either side of him. "You did great today, Tracy," Lee said with a grin.

"Is it true that you jump like that to get into bed every night?" Xavion asked, a bit of challenge in his voice.

"Well, yeah. Unless I'm sick or something," Alan said with a shrug.

"I saw it from across the field where I was helping Mr. Becarra and I was im-pressed," the older boy admitted. "You'll be a great addition to the team." He glanced down at his feet then raised his head to meet Alan's eyes. "And... thanks for helping out Kay last night. I'm glad you were there when he needed you." His mood changed and he threw a conspiratory arm around the younger boy's shoulders. "Now, what is this name Kay has for you? Pinky?"

"Pinky?" Lee said, beginning to grin as he saw how Alan squirmed at Xavion's use of the name. He slid an arm around Alan's shoulders from the other side.

"Where'd you learn that?" Alan asked, glaring at Xavion.

The older boy looked off into the distance, smiling serenely. "Oh, a fellow lab mouse let it slip last night while we were talking with Mr. Mag." He glanced down at Alan, and spoke directly into his ear. "So, is it true?"

"Well, uh, yeah." Alan mumbled, his face getting red. "Fermat is the Brain, and I'm... uh... Pinky." Then he pointed at each of the seniors in turn and said in a louder voice, "But only my friends can call me that."

"Narf!" Xavion said before he burst into laughter.

"Hey, we're your friends now, aren't we... Pinky?" Lee said slyly as they stopped in front of Chetwood

Alan sighed heavily and nodded. Oh, God. By tomorrow, everyone will be calling me 'Pinky'. I think I'd rather die.