A Darker Mischief by Derek Milman

Author:Derek Milman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.

When I dash over to Garrott like my ass is on fire, the police car is still parked outside. I don’t see anybody, which is maybe a good sign—Luke doesn’t seem to be getting arrested. Two cops emerge from the entrance. I text Luke, asking him what’s going on, but he doesn’t respond.

The cops stand in front of their car. A black Maserati pulls up right behind it. A kid’s at the wheel, but I can’t tell who it is. I hide behind a nearby tree and peek out from behind.

The driver’s side opens, and a husky blond kid in a red tracksuit pops out. He walks over to the cops, hair a mess of misshapen tufts like he just woke up, face ruddy, gait plodding, but with a certain conviction. A dude on a job. Then I see the ring, and I can’t believe it took me this long to recognize Pinky. I’ve never seen him dressed down before. Pinky saunters over to the cops. They get into a calm discussion. Like this was expected, planned. They all shake hands. The cops get back in their car. Pinky gets back in the Maserati. Everyone drives away.

This is wild. A kid at school, who wasn’t directly involved in the incident, with no faculty member accompanying him, was able to talk to the cops, and in a minute, it was over?

I look down. I’m sinking into the wet grass. I step out of the twin indentations with a squish, my worn sneakers soaked through.

Luke texts me: all good no worries.

I text back: what happened?

Luke: coniunctio nobis semper perstat.

They must have told him to lie low or something. Mr. Dine and Dash is not in chem.

While sitting around the oval conference table in world history class, the Harkness method at its best, I sneak my phone out from under the table. Luke is being evasive, dodging every question, which is upsetting but something he does. He says we should meet tonight to formally complete our joint explo into Pencey Chem Lab.

“Everything okay, Mr. Ware?”

I blink at Mr. Rafferty. I say something vague about how any discussion of gunpowder empires gets me worked up. He gives me a skeptical look back.

There’s a new Society email about formatting protocols for our reports, along with a link to the Letters and Archives Digital Images Database (LADID). We can sign in with our school-issued email and password. The database provides the history of many buildings on campus, along with facility assignment plans, which show a floor-by-floor layout. I download as much as I can about Pencey.

Later that night, I meet Luke. He’s standing by the same side entrance, shrouded in a black hoodie, all Assassin’s Creed. He tells me to try to pick the lock—“use your feeler pick”—while he sticks one of his pods in my ear; I hear a gravelly-voiced dude soaked in reverb. It takes me longer than it took Luke the last time, but when I get it and the door clicks open, I let out a sigh of relief.

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