Pulse

flown in too close, and once that happened with Wade, it was usually impossible to break free of his gravitational pull. He and Clara both let go when they wanted to, often at the cruelest moment, and it was never pretty. Hawk had seen them do it to people before, and none of them were still going to school at Old Park Hill. It was why he’d gone along with the idea of a little adventure to begin with, why he’d acted like such a dork. Some people hid behind jokes or sports or good looks, but Hawk played the role of zany geek because it was easy. He was small, with wild hair and a high-pitched voice. Slipping into the head-idiot roll was both simple and effective. And it came to him naturally, because somewhere deep down inside, he was this goofy person; but he was also so much more. His intelligence was off the charts, way beyond what anyone who knew him understood. The mere fact that he’d been able to procure and ship clothing to his female friends for next to nothing was an epic intellectual victory; subverting the Tablet and the State that controlled it had been the equivalent of breaking into Fort Knox. For Hawk, it had been reasonably easy: three days of hard-core hacking and a lot of sugary snacks and it was done. Had the officials in either of the States known what Hawk could do—and how quickly he’d done it—the whole system would have gone on high alert.
    What a lot of people didn’t understand about Hawk was that he paid attention to everything, missed nothing, and had a photographic memory. He was doing just that—paying very close attention—as they left the main building walking two by two.
    “Can’t believe it’s already getting dark,” Liz said. She was walking next to Hawk, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her hoodie, staring at the back of Wade’s head like she was trying to make it explode. “Don’t they have security out here at night?”
    “Are you kidding? We’re lucky we’ve got two teachers during daylight. There’s no one else; don’t worry so much.” Wade put an arm around Faith’s shoulder and leaned in as they walked, an act that irritated Liz even more.
    “I’m not worried. I was just asking.”
    “And I’m telling you, there’s no one.” Wade stopped and turned to face Liz and Hawk. “When was the last time you took a really good look around? This is the last open school in the city. I’ve been moved three times in the last year alone, and you probably have been, too. There are fewer than a hundred of us, fewer every week. Most of them are only at this school because their parents are crazy. You get that, right? It’s the crazies and the cleanup crew. I don’t even know why they bother to lock this place up. There’s no point. No one is here!”
    There was a smoldering moment of silence from Liz, but when she spoke, there was fire in her voice.
    “Then why are you here?”
    She’d had about enough of Wade Quinn and couldn’t believe what a condescending jerk he was, which made it all the more startling when Faith came to his defense.
    “Chill out, Liz. He’s got a plan; it’s just kind of secret is all.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    “It means lay off, okay? Things aren’t always exactly as they seem.”
    Liz moved closer to Faith, took her hand, and pulled her a few steps away from Wade and Hawk. This left Hawk in the towering shadow of a much older, bigger guy.
    “What’s up, bro?”
    Wade cracked a half smile but didn’t answer. He stood there wondering why it was that he couldn’t help but put his foot in his mouth every time he met a girl he actually liked, and hoped that the whispering going on between Liz and Faith wasn’t going to lead to the usual: him losing the respect of a girl he liked before things even got started.
    “Please, Faith, let’s don’t do this. Let’s just go to the grade school. You can draw and I’ll read.”
    “It’s okay, Liz. And you do worry a lot.”
    What Faith really wanted to say was that Liz had gotten awfully clingy lately. And that she’d always been supportive when Liz was chasing after a boy. And why was she being such a total freak right about now? But she didn’t say any of those things.
    “I don’t think he’s good for you. I think he’s dangerous.”
    Faith wanted to scream. Liz had become so needy, with the hand-holding and the moodiness. It was suffocating.
    “You don’t have to come along. I’m fine.”
    “But I’m not. I need you,” Liz pleaded. She was