Glitch

be
    safe,” Adrien said through gritted teeth to Max before look-
    ing back to me. “But Zoe’s cover’ll be cracked. Do you care
    about that ?”
    Max pushed Adrien hard in the chest. “I cared about her
    before you ever—”
    “Guys, stop!” I stepped between them. “We don’t have
    time for this.”
    Max’s nostrils fl ared, but he stepped back and raised his
    hands. “Fine, so what did you see, Future Boy?”
    “Max, you gotta go get Molla out of class. There’s going
    to be a graphic video in her Community History class about
    a historic mass- deactivation event— it’s going to make her
    start crying. Crying loud. They’ve already been Monitoring
    her, and it’ll be the last step to confi rm their suspicions.
    Please, Max. Make up what ever excuse or disguise you need,
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    G L I TC H
    but get her out of there and give her the upgrade so she can
    control when she glitches. Think you can handle it?”
    “You questioning my abilities?” Max stepped forward,
    invading the small space between him and Adrien.
    Adrien held his hands up. “Course not. I know you can
    do it, that’s why I’m asking.”
    “And what are you two going to be doing?” Max’s voice
    was still a growl.
    “Hopefully, hacking into Central Systems and altering
    her subject rec ords so she drops off their radar.”
    Max was quiet a moment. “Fine. But I’m doing it to pro-
    tect Zoe, not to help you.” He pushed past Adrien to lean in
    and whisper to me, “I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
    Max’s breath was hot on my neck, and I was uncomfort-
    ably aware of Adrien watching us only a few feet away.
    “I’ll see you soon,” I said. “Be safe.”
    He nodded and was gone. When I looked back at Adrien,
    his face was all hard lines, a mask I couldn’t read. He swal-
    lowed stiffl
    y and I watched his throat bob up and down.
    “Let’s go,” he said, his voice a bit distant. “We’ll split up
    and walk normally when we leave. We need to look as non-
    anomalous as possible.”
    I nodded and before I could say another word, he was out
    the door. I followed, keeping my steps mea sured and con-
    trolled. Order fi rst, order always , I repeated in my mind. Above
    all, I had to stay calm. I had to ignore the constant thoughts
    and images of what would happen to Molla if we failed.
    We walked down familiar hallways and corridors. It was
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    Heather Anastasiu
    a passing period so the halls were packed with students. I
    stared straight ahead, stealing looks at Adrien whenever
    I could in order to make sure I was keeping up with him. I
    turned when he turned, paused when he paused, all with a
    perfect studied indiff erence.
    We paused as we turned down a short hallway. A pale gray
    door blocked our path into the restricted block, where Adrien
    had told me we’d fi nd one of the few access points for the
    Central Academy data mainframe. I watched anxiously down
    the hallway as Adrien inserted a chip in his wrist ID scanner.
    When it was all in place, he turned to smile at me, but not
    before I saw a fl icker of anxiety cross his eyes. He wasn’t
    sure this would work.
    My heartbeat ratcheted up a few notches and I barely kept
    it in check as he held his wrist in front of the scanner. It let
    out a loud beep, and I released the breath I hadn’t realized
    I’d been holding. I took another worried look up and down
    the hallway, but it was still empty. After a pause, the scanner
    light switched from red to green, and we heard the welcome
    sound of the door lock sliding out of place.
    I breathed out a sigh of relief as we entered an empty
    hallway. Our footsteps echoed loudly off the narrow white-
    washed walls. Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck. Adrien
    might be able to erase the video feed of us coming here
    afterward, but if a person discovered us, there would be no
    explanation for our presence here.
    Adrien ducked into a doorway alcove. I stepped into the
    small space with him. It was so quiet I could hear his every
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    G L I TC H
    breath. He pulled a small drive out of his bag and attached it
    to a small port in the wall.
    “What’s that?” I asked, my voice barely audible.
    He smiled at me. “A distraction.” He turned his attention
    back to the device. Embedded wall projectors lit up, creating
    an orange 3- D cube about a handspan in length. I watched
    in fascination as Adrien’s fi ngers clicked through the inter-
    face at rapid- fi re speed. He bit his lip in concentration, but
    he looked