Unprecedented Meeting

At early breakfast the next morning, Alan looked around for Erik, hoping to sit with his team member and new friend. When he couldn't spot the freshman, he sat down at the table that his little group usually used, and began to eat.

"Alan."

He looked up to see Xavion standing on the other side of the table, looking very serious. "Morning run is canceled for today. If you see anyone else from the team, let them know, okay?"

"Canceled? Why?"

Xavion took a deep breath in and let it out in a long huff. "You'll find out soon. Just let people know as you see them, okay?"

"Sure."

Alan watched as Xavion stalked off toward a pair of track team members at another table. He glanced around the hall and noticed that Sugi was going around much as Xavion was, stopping here and there, and saying something to members of the soccer team. Oddly enough, he passed by Ralph, who kept his eyes on his breakfast and didn't look up. Alan shrugged. They're so tight now that Sugi probably told him earlier. He took a bite of his cold toast. I wonder what's up?

The lack of a team run gave Alan time to get a leisurely shower, and to read some of his next chapter in Adolescent Literature. They were reading A Tale of Two Cities, by Dickens, and he was having a hard time with some of the language. Finally, he gave up, and powered up his computer, entering his email program.

Hey, Tin-Tin,

Sorry I've been such a pain in the butt about writing. Things have been pretty hectic here and I've been so wrapped up in everything going on.

As you know, Fermat and I were put in separate rooms this year. I was really mad about it at first, but now I can sort of see why we were split up. Fermat's roomie is like Fermat was last year; young, really super smart for his age, away from home and without any friends. He needed somebody like our favorite geek to turn to. I, on the other hand, ended up with a senior jock, one of the 'big men on campus' types. On the track team, captain of the soccer team, that kind of guy. Reminds me a little of Scott, actually. He seemed like a nice guy at first; even suggested I go out for track (which I did and I made the team!). I thought we were going to have a good year together, but it's all gone to hell in a hand basket and I have no real idea why. So I've got permission to switch rooms.

My new roommate will be a junior named Dom. He's the chief student editor of the yearbook, and has really bad asthma, so he can't play sports. At first he wasn't going to let me move in with him when his original roommate got bounced (long story, I'll tell you later), but I guess his family convinced him to honor his commitment, so I move in tomorrow (Saturday).

We're okay otherwise. I'm sure you've heard about Fermat breaking his arm, and he's made the academic quiz team, which has him really happy - and nervous. His first meet is today. Wish I could be there, but I've got track practice. I'm signed up for cross-country, long jump, high jump and I'm alternate on the javelin (don't ask me how I got that one!). Dad and Brains are coming out next week to see both me and Fermat strut our stuff. Maybe one or two of the guys can make it, too; we'll see.

Hope you're getting along with your roommates, and you and your friends are having fun. Give my love to Lady P. Write whenever.

Alan

He looked it over to see what else he might say, changed "love" to "regards", argued under his breath with the spellchecker, then sent it off.

"There," he muttered. "Mission accomplished." He glanced at his computer's clock. "Damn! I'd better get moving! Where are my shoes?"

"Mr. Tracy, you're late," Mr. Graboski said, scowling.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir," Alan said, nodding, as he made his way to his seat.

"I hope you have a very good reason... and a written excuse."

Alan sighed. "No, sir. I don't."

Mr. Graboski's bushy eyebrows climbed. "Indeed? Then see me after classes are through for some appropriate disciplinary action."

"Yes, sir."

The dour teacher looked out over his class, and gave an uncharacteristic sigh. "Unfortunately, we will be going to the auditorium for a special school-wide meeting, called by the administration just this morning. I expect us to return before the hour is out, so you may leave your things here. The classroom will be locked."

The students glanced at each other, murmuring a little. Alan shot Fermat a puzzled frown, and the younger boy responded by shrugging.

"Come, gentlemen. A single file, please! We will sit together in the auditorium and leave together as well."

Alan fell into line behind Fermat, and murmured to his friend. "Any idea what this is about?"

Fermat shook his head. "N-No, none."

Alan paused, then said, "I wonder if it had anything to do with our morning run being canceled."

"Your r-run was c-canceled?" Fermat looked away, then nodded. "That would e-e-e... that's why Z-Zave sat with us at b-breakfast." Glancing back at Alan, he added, "He was in a f-f-f... real bad mood."

"Quiet please!"

At the teacher's call, the two boys fell silent, both pondering what this unprecedented meeting was all about.

John's jaw felt ready to dislocate with his prodigious yawn. It was just after 1 a.m. on Saturday, at least on the island, and he had been watching some of the Doctor Who episodes that Brains had uploaded for him. Brains was a fan of the third Doctor, but John was intrigued more by the fourth Doctor, mostly because of K-9.

"Always been a sucker for dogs," he muttered as he stood and stretched, his fingers interlocked above his head. He had started to put the station on standby when he saw a small window flashing on a computer screen. Groaning, he made his way to the computer that collected news of interest to the Tracys or International Rescue. Frowning, he clicked on the window, and his eyes widened as he watched the small news snippet from a local TV station. When it was done, he replayed the recording, then sighed. "Do I wake him or not?"

The decision took only a moment. "Yes. I wake him. If I don't, the school soon will." Shaking his head slowly, he opened up communications between the space station and his home.

Alan and Fermat settled down into one of the cushioned theater-style chairs that filled Wharton's auditorium. All around them, boys and teachers were doing the same, most of them stealing glances at the headmaster, Dr. MacDonald, who stood behind the stage's podium. He was a portly, dark-skinned man, balding, greying, and sporting a dark handlebar mustache peppered with silver. The headmaster pulled out his reading glasses, wiped them with a handkerchief, then perched them on the end of his thick nose, looking down at the small pile of papers he had before him. Of more interest, however, were the two police officers standing at ease to one side of the stage. Alan and Fermat both recognized Officer Vega from their run-in with Trey. Mrs. Belvedere was seated in a folding chair on the opposite side, her legs crossed at the knee, and her arms folded. Mr. Magnuson sat next to her, leaning forward, his hands on his knees.

"The dragon looks ready to breathe fire," Alan whispered to Fermat.

"Y-Yeah," Fermat murmured back. "Wonder what those p-p-p... cops are d-doing there."

"We'll find out soon," Alan said.

It took a few more minutes for the boys to finish filing in and settling down. Once it was clear that everyone was there, Dr. MacDonald cleared his throat. "Good morning."

A few of the audience echoed his greeting. He nodded, then continued. "I have called this meeting because of a series of incidents that have happened since the school year began. Two of our students were harassed by unknown assailants. They were not harmed, the police were informed, and the incidents were chalked up to bullying." He stopped, and cleared his throat again. "But last night, a third event took place that has caused the police to take a harder look at the first two. One of our students was beaten to the point of hospitalization..."

He was interrupted by a number of loud gasps and a general, unbelieving mumbling coming from the audience. Alan and Fermat exchanged glances. "Wonder who it was," Alan whispered. Fermat shrugged, indicating his ignorance.

As things quieted down again, the headmaster went on. "As a result of this assault, the New Ashford police department has sent along two representatives to speak to you about safety. They would also like to talk with the students involved in the other two incidents. Before they speak, however, our director of student affairs, Mrs. Belvedere, has something to say." He turned toward her. "Mrs. Belvedere?"

The director of student affairs stood and walked briskly to the podium. She gazed around at the assemblage as if daring any of the boys to interrupt her. "Thank you for your attention. The office of student affairs will be working throughout the day and very likely into the evening to contact your parents or guardians and inform them of this incident. We ask that the student body refrain from informing your families about this until we have had a chance to speak with them ourselves. We wish to give them the facts as we know them..."

"In other words, put the school in the best possible light," Alan murmured to Fermat.

"...And to keep the phone lines as clear so we can inform them all."

"To k-keep parents from calling i-in and chewing them ou-out," Fermat muttered. Alan snorted a soft laugh.

"Supervised activities will proceed as usual this afternoon and evening; however, the games room, snack shop and other common areas will be closing early – and will continue to close early until this problem is resolved to our satisfaction. Curfew will be moved up to nine p.m. and will be strictly enforced. Lights out will remain the same."

There was a loud groan from the students in the audience, and a good deal of muttered complaining. Mrs. Belvedere swept her eyes over the boys again, and the sound died down a good deal faster than it had for Dr. MacDonald. "We regret that things have come to this, but these measures are for your own safety. Abide by them and it will help keep our campus a much safer place." She turned to Mr. Magnuson and called him by name. He stood, and approached the podium.

The security head took a deep breath and let it out, fingering his collar and his tie. The audience, reading his nervousness, began to murmur again. He glanced down, and cleared his throat.

"Boys," he began, using a tone that sounded like a scoutmaster talking to his troop, "this is an unprecedented situation. Never in the many years that I have been head of security has something like this happened. Not only is it unprecedented, it's very serious. We'll need your cooperation to catch whoever is responsible for this. If you see anything out of the ordinary, anyone hanging around where they shouldn't be, someone you don't recognize, anything at all, tell us right away. I'd much rather you made an erroneous report than ignored something possibly leading to the apprehension of whoever is doing this... or leading to you possibly getting hurt, too." He paused, and tugged at his collar again. "We'll be adding more security people over the next couple of weeks and introducing them to you so you'll recognize them. I expect you to cooperate with them, and with the hall monitors and dorm supervisors, too. This is serious business, boys. We're going to do our part; you need to do yours." He glanced over at the officers. "I'd like to introduce Lieutenant O'Reilly and Officer Vega from the New Ashford police department. Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant O'Reilly, a tall, broad shouldered man with a buzz cut of pale red hair, readjusted his belt, and strode to the platform with a bounce to his step. "Good morning, gentlemen."

There was another, louder round of "good morning", and the officer grinned briefly. "As you've all heard, we've had some trouble here on campus, and the New Ashford police department has been called in to investigate. We echo Mr. Magnuson's instructions; if you see anything suspicious, report it to his office first. He'll investigate, then determine if we need to be called in. In the meanwhile, here are some things you should do to help keep safe."

He glanced down briefly at a sheet of paper that had been left on the podium for him. "First of all, stay in groups, especially during the early morning and the evening hours. Walk with your friends, with other people from your dorms, but never alone. Only walk in well-lighted areas, and stick to the paved pathways; don't take short cuts. If someone you don't know speaks to you, don't respond, and if they insist on going with you, make your way quickly to the nearest dorm, or open, lighted building. Stay away from the playing fields, tennis courts, and academic buildings at night, unless you are with a supervised group. Always let someone know where you're going to be, and when you expect to return. And if a roommate is late coming home, tell your hall monitor immediately. The sooner someone in authority knows that something's amiss, the sooner that security can swing into action. And carry your cell phone, if you have one." He gave them another grin. "But put on your voice mail for class hours."

The audience chuckled, then settled down into murmurs again. They quieted when the lieutenant added, "As Mr. Magnuson has said, you do your part to stay safe, he'll do his part to keep you safe, and we'll do our part to find out who's behind this." He looked out over the auditorium, then glanced back to Dr. MacDonald. "That's all I have to say."

Dr. MacDonald came forward again, and shook hands with the lieutenant before assuming his place at the front of the stage again. He gazed out at the boys, then nodded to someone in back. "Would the teachers please stand?"

Alan and Fermat joined their classmates in watching Mr. Graboski rise to his feet. A small group of secretaries and maintenance men came forward with small boxes, and began to distribute them to the teachers. As they did, Dr. MacDonald spoke again.

"These boxes contain lanyards with clear plastic envelopes attached to them. All students, teachers, and other Wharton employees are to put their current identification cards in the envelopes, and wear them at all times on campus. Students caught without them after 24 hours will be given after school or weekend detention, and 10 demerits for the first offense, 20 for each subsequent violation."

This got the students murmuring in earnest now, and Dr. MacDonald had to call, "Students!" in order to get them to simmer down. "The teachers will distribute them in class, and will give Mr. Magnuson a list of any student who was absent from class. These are now considered part of your uniform, gentlemen, and should be worn everywhere and anywhere you go on campus, including after hours. The only exceptions are when you dress out for phys. ed., or when you have some other uniform to wear, such as those of ROTC. Other exceptions will dealt with on a case-by-case basis." He paused for a moment. "These are part of our safety program, and should help identify people who are not part of the Wharton student body, faculty, or staff. So, please wear them with that in mind." He glanced at his watch. "Our class hour is nearly up. Teachers, you may take your students back to the classroom, distribute the lanyards, and dismiss when you are finished. Second hour teachers, please be lenient with any student arriving a few moments late." Motioning to the classes at the front, he said, "Please dismiss from the front rows to the back. You're dismissed."

The noise, which had been growing steadily as Dr. MacDonald's remarks concluded, rose sharply in volume as the students began to stir and the teachers began to lead their classes out. Mr. Graboski's class was in the center of the auditorium, so he sat while the other classes filed by. Jason passed by, caught Alan's eye, and gave him a brief wave, which Alan and a nudged Fermat returned.

"Fermat Hackenbacker?" The row of boys looked first at Mr. Culp, who stood at the end of their aisle, then at Fermat. "The officers would like to speak with you."

"M-Me? N-Now?" Fermat asked, pointing at himself.

"Yes, you. Now," Mr. Culp replied.

"What about m-my th-th-th... my supplies? They're b-back at the cl-classroom."

Mr. Culp looked at Mr. Graboski. "Could you assign someone to bring Mr. Hackenbacker's things to the security office after class dismisses? We'll take care of the permissions."

The math teacher glanced down at Alan. "Mr. Tracy, you are so deputized." He opened the box and handed a lanyard to Fermat as the student passed by him to join Mr. Culp in the aisle.

"Th-Thank you," Fermat managed to spit out before the security guard gathered him up and they walked off.

By this time, it was Alan's class's turn to leave. The students stood, murmuring amongst themselves.

"Who do you think got beat up, Alan?" the boy behind him asked.

"I dunno," Alan replied, "But I'd sure like to find out."

"John to Tracy Island."

Virgil sat up straighter in the chair behind his father's desk. He had the first shift of night watch; Gordon would relieve him at three a.m. He pressed on the switch that brought John's face onto the computer screen before him.

"What's cooking, John?" he asked, putting aside his magazine. "You don't usually call this time in the morning."

"Just got a tidbit of information that Dad should know about right away. It might concern Alan."

Virgil squinted a bit at John's serious face. "What is it?"

"I'd rather tell Dad," John replied. "Can you wake him for me?"

"You sure? You know what he's like when we pull him out of bed for something that's not a rescue."

"I'm sure, and I'll take the heat," John said, making a face. "Just get him for me, please."

"Okay, it's your funeral," Virgil said, shrugging. He turned and activated the intercom in his father's room. "Dad? Hey, Dad! Wake up!"

A sleepy, bear-like voice responded. "Uh? Wha?"

"John's got some news that won't wait." Virgil glanced over at the screen where his brother could be seen, looking impatient.

" 'Zit a rescue?" Jeff was a difficult one to wake with anything less than the emergency signal... or his own strident alarm clock.

"No, it's not," Virgil explained. "Has to do with Alan..."

"Alan?" Suddenly Jeff sounded more coherent. "What about Alan?"

"I don't know; John has some news and he wants to tell you himself," Virgil said, rather testily.

"Okay, okay. 'M comin'."

It took a good ten minutes for Jeff to appear, hair mussed, wearing a threadbare bathrobe that Lucille had given him one Christmas. He never wore it when Lady Penelope was there, but then, he never appeared outside his bedroom without being decently dressed when she visited, either. He yawned, and rubbed his eyes, motioning Virgil out of his chair.

"Okay, John. What do you have?" he asked as he sat down.

"A small item from the eleven o'clock newscast out of Pittsfield. A student from Wharton Academy was admitted to the hospital in Pittsfield for injuries received from a beating that took place on campus. No name given, and police are investigating." John looked up at his father a bit sheepishly. "I realize that if you haven't heard by now, it's probably not Alan or Fermat, but... I thought it was important."

"Okay, John. I understand. But you're right; if it had been Alan or Fermat, Brains or I would have heard and we'd be contacting you about it. Still, if I haven't heard from the school by five p.m. their time, I'll call them." Jeff sighed. "Anything else I should know, son?"

John shook his head. "No, not really. Things are pretty quiet at the moment."

"Good." Jeff got up and waved a hand at his space monitor son. "I'm going back to bed. Don't wake me unless it's an emergency... or you hear from Wharton."

"Good night, Dad," John said, sighing himself.

"Good night, John, Virgil." With that, Jeff shuffled from the room, yawning again.

John shook his head. "I should have left it for later."

"Nah, it's okay." Virgil settled back down in his father's chair. "If you hadn't, and it did have something to do with Alan, you'd have wished you had. And Dad would have been pissed that you didn't." He shrugged. "You won't be keeping yourself awake over it now, either."

"You've got that right," John said. He took a deep breath in through his nose, let it out, then yawned. "I'm going to bed now. Goodnight, Virge."

Yawns being contagious, Virgil responded with one of his own. "G'night, John. Sleep well."

"You, too. John out."

The picture winked out and Virgil picked up his magazine again, trying to pick up his train of reasoning for the sudoku puzzle he had been working on.

The rest of the day felt surreal, normal yet not normal. Alan delivered Fermat's things to the security office, hoping to hang around and perhaps give his two cents on what had happened to Qaeshon. But he wasn't called just then, and had to go on to his computer science class with a tardy pass. The meeting was the talk of campus, with a lot of speculation about who had gotten attacked this time. Alan was able to fill in what he remembered about Qaeshon's run-in with the mysterious marauders, and felt important that he could do so. Fermat resurfaced in the middle of history class, bearing a pass. He sat down heavily beside Alan.

"What happened?" Alan leaned over to whisper.

"Later," was Fermat's laconic answer.

Alan sighed and sat back up, trying to refocus his attention on their class discussion.

It wasn't until lunch time that Fermat and Alan got to talk. They sat with the rest of their little group, as usual. Qaeshon looked tired, and didn't say much. Dom joined them, drawn to their group by the shared experience. Ralph, following in Sugi's wake, glanced at their table; longingly, Alan thought, but kept walking.

He curbed his curiosity until Fermat at least had eaten his lunch; Qaeshon didn't look as if he wanted any, though he did drink his milk. Dom sat and stared at his food for a bit, then slowly began to eat. Jason, however, couldn't contain himself. "So?" he asked, his eyes bright with curiosity. "What happened?"

Before Alan could figuratively sit on him, Fermat said, "They h-had us go over wh-what happened that night, m-more than once, a-a-asking questions and tr-trying to clarify what we s-saw o-or heard. I th-think they were l-l-l... seeking some identifying m-mark. A v-voice, a f-face, something like th-that."

"I wish I'd had someone like Fermat come to my rescue that night," Dom said with a sigh. "He's sharp. I was surprised how much he told them about Qaeshon's... incident."

"Did any of you hear who was beat up?" Alan asked.

Qaeshon shook his head. "No... but I'm almost sure I know who one of the guys who attacked me is. It... it just isn't coming to me." He slammed his fists down on his lap. "I wish I could figure it out!"

"Don't sweat it, bro." Xavion had appeared with his lunch tray, and he motioned for Alan to move over so he could sit next to his brother. Alan obeyed, and Zave gave his brother's shoulder a squeeze as he sat down. "It'll come. I'm just glad you didn't get hurt."

"Me, too," A.J. piped up. He paused, then said more slowly, "Though if you had, perhaps the police might have taken things more seriously to start with."

Everyone glared at him, and he looked down. "I'm sorry, but this has got me spooked. I'm afraid my dad will come and pull me out of school." He barked a laugh. "And for once... I don't want to leave."

Alan and Fermat exchanged glances, and Alan nodded. "I know how you feel, A.J. I'm afraid my dad will want to pull me out, and Fermat's dad will say the same thing. And you know, if this had happened earlier and Qaeshon had been the one hurt, then I'd have gone home without complaint. Hell, I'd have been happy to go! But now... now there's too much good stuff going on to leave." He sat up straighter. "Besides, I don't want to give in to these creeps, whoever they are."

"Wish I could say the same, Alan," Dom said dourly. "My mother will be on her way up here as soon as she hears about this, and she'll beg me to come home. Then my dad will step in and... I'll go." He made a face. "Like I said, they're overprotective because of my asthma." He looked at Alan. "You may end up with a room to yourself."

"Aw, Dom, c'mon! Don't be so gloomy!" Alan cajoled. "If your mother comes, we'll sweet talk her. I'll put on the old Tracy charm and get her to agree to let you stay."

"Will the 'old Tracy charm' work on my dad as well?" Dom asked, a small smile on his lips.

Alan stopped to think for a moment, but it was Fermat who jumped in. "H-Hey, if Alan's f-father agrees to l-let him stay, wouldn't that c-count for something?"

The group glanced around at each other, then at Alan. He groaned. "Brain, why did you have to bring up my dad?" he said, cuffing his friend playfully on the arm. "You know I don't like to flaunt my familial connections."

" 'Familial connections'?" Qaeshon remarked, smiling for the first time during the meal. "Where'd you start picking up the highbrow vocab?"

"Hey, don't worry, Pinky," Jason said, his red brows rising. "We know how to put you in your place if you get too uppity."

Alan colored, and laughed. The rest of the group chuckled, and the tension was broken. "Hey, Zave?" he asked. "We still having practice today?"

"Yeah," Xavion said with a nod. "On schedule and don't be late."

Fermat paled a bit. "I g-guess that means w-we're still having our m-m-m... competition."

"I'd say so," Jason remarked, nodding. "Don't fret it, Brain. You'll wow them!"

"I s-s-s... certainly hope s-so." Fermat took a drink of milk and once he'd swallowed, added, "You think ou-our parents know y-yet?"

"I'd say it depends on the pecking order," Xavion said matter-of-factly. "Will they do it in alphabetical order? By financial importance? Seniors first?" He shrugged. "Who knows?"

"If it's in a-alphabetical order, my d-dad will hear before Alan's w-will," Fermat said.

"I wish they hadn't asked us not to call," A.J. said with a frown. "I'd probably be better tracking down my dad than they would."

The chatter turned to other matters for the few minutes they had left, then they prepared to go to their next classes. Xavion took his brother's tray for him, a gesture that was appreciated by the sophomore. Alan took Fermat's, and Dom's, too, figuring on getting a head start in being a supportive roommate. Pierce was working the lunch shift, but he said nothing to Alan after glancing at the bulk of the senior track captain standing behind his normal target. The two students disposed of their trays and trash, and went on to where the others waited by the exit. The friends said their farewells, and Alan found Zave pacing him toward the academic buildings.

"What's up, Zave?" he asked.

The senior hesitated, then slowed to a stop, pulling gently on Alan's arm to get him to do the same.

"I'm not supposed to tell this to anyone," Xavion said, looking around and speaking in a low tone. "But this sort of affects you, so I think you should know."

"What is it?" Alan moved closer, lowering his own voice, responding to the seriousness of the older teen.

"I know who got beat up last night."

"You do?" Alan lowered his voice even more, and glanced around. Zave suddenly decided to start walking again, and Alan walked beside him. "Who is it? And what does this have to do with me?"

"It has to do with you because this guy is on the track team and there's no way he's going to be able to compete for a good while."

Alan felt his gut clench, and suddenly he was sure he knew who his team captain was talking about. Still, he didn't want to make any assumptions, and asked, "Who?"

Zave looked at him with a frank gaze, then swallowed and moistened his lips. "Erik. Erik Tolbert."