Pulse

out there intercepting every questionable transmission. Somewhere in the very early days of Wire Codes, the method for delivery was chosen, and it just stuck: plastic beads on a chain or a string. Sometimes the chain of letters and numbers was short, sometimes long; but it was always strung in a loop with a series of cheap plastic beads, like a charm bracelet for a little kid.
    The Wire Code alert meant Faith couldn’t talk to Hawk while her lectures were going on, which was probably for the best, because she was falling behind in Buford’s advanced English and she really needed to focus. Unfortunately, there was something else on her mind, something bigger and more exciting, and it was making Buford sound like a lawn mower as he deconstructed Henry V ’s secondary characters. Her meet up with Wade was at noon, and no matter how hard she tried, Faith could think of little else as Miss Newhouse made her way around the room for the third time. She had a hawkish nose and dark eyes, she was thin like a pencil, and she leaned over sitting students with a frown on her face.
    Faith looked toward the back of the classroom as Miss Newhouse stopped in front of Dylan Gilmore. Newhouse leaned down, putting both hands on Dylan’s desk, and Faith slid one of her earphones off so she could hear what they were saying. One ear was filled with Buford’s weed-whacker–buzz voice; the other zeroed in on the far corner of the room, where Dylan was slumped in his chair.
    “Empty your pockets,” Miss Newhouse said.
    “Why would I do that?” Dylan had a whispery voice, low and heavy.
    “Because there’s a Wire Code in this school, and I’m looking for it.”
    “And you think I know something about that because . . . ?”
    “Empty the pockets,” Newhouse said.
    There was a pause, and Faith could sense Dylan sitting up straighter, putting his face right up in Miss Newhouse’s grille.
    “Miss Newhouse, can I offer you a mint? You could use one.”
    Faith laughed, catching herself too late, and quickly put the headphone back on her ear. She couldn’t hear anything outside the bubble of Professor Buford as she stared at her Tablet, watching him speak. Her heart was racing, but she didn’t dare look back and give herself away. There was a tapping on her shoulder, and Faith jumped, making a sound she couldn’t hear. When she looked up, Miss Newhouse was standing over her, motioning her to remove her headphones. She reached across Faith’s desk and paused the lecture as Faith caught a glimpse of Dylan in the corner. He had stood and pulled his pockets all the way out, where they lay against his pants like little white ghosts. Of course there was no Wire Code, no string of plastic beads, each bead with a number or a letter. On inspection, his pockets had proven very empty.
    “Are you having trouble focusing today?” Miss Newhouse asked Faith. “I can move you to a private room if it would help, though we don’t encourage it. Isolation doesn’t tend to improve results.”
    “I’m fine, just a little tickle in my throat is all.”
    Faith coughed for good measure, and Miss Newhouse, looking unconvinced, told her to get back to work.
    “Yes, ma’am. No problem. Working,” Faith said, then she put her headphones back on and tapped the screen on her Tablet before Miss Newhouse could object.
    She moved off, signaling Dylan to sit down and stalking other students; and Faith stole one more glance at the back of the room, where Dylan was looking bored and aloof. He pushed his pockets in, shrugging his powerful shoulders as he sat down.
    Cute, Faith thought. She allowed herself to linger on his big eyes and dark brows for a moment longer, hoping he wouldn’t look up. Too bad he’s trouble.
     
    Faith couldn’t decide whether or not to take Liz with her to the gym in order to watch Wade be amazing and gorgeous or not, but the dilemma answered itself when she couldn’t find her in the lunchroom. Faith chewed on one of her nails, a habit she’d put out of its misery on nine fingers. The pinkie on her right hand was taking all the damage that had once been spread across ten fingers, but it was holding up. It was a tough little pinkie, only bleeding a little when Faith was extremely nervous and chewed right down to the skin.
    “Sorry, little buddy,” she said as she arrived at the gym. “Way to take one for the team. You done good.”
    Talking to herself helped; but when she entered the gym, she found someone she didn’t