Storm (Swipe Series)

hear”? Is that really what you just said? Who does that?
    “It’s okay, Connor,” Mrs. Stokewood said mercifully. “You can get the lesson notes from Sally at the end of class.”
    Good. Good old Mrs. Stokewood. Always looking out for her favorite student. Today, Connor’s reputation preceded him.
    “I’m afraid he won’t be coming back, Mrs. Stokewood,” the principal said softly.
    And a murmur rushed through the class like electricity.
    Wow, Connor thought. Then . . . what if I really am in trouble? Like . . . for something . . . big.
    Connor thought of his permanent record, attached digitally to his Mark and carried on him at all times. He thought of what colleges would think during their admission processes. He thought of job interviews down the line . . .
    But out in the hall, the principal’s concerned tone quickly broke him from any coherent train of thought. All that was left was the present tense.
    “Connor, would you mind taking a walk with me?” the principal asked.
    “Not at all,” Connor said.
    “It will be a rather long walk, I’m afraid.”
    “May I ask where we’re going, sir?” Now Connor was confused. The principal’s office was in Lahoma Elementary, sure, butthat was hardly a long walk away. Weirder still, the principal didn’t seem angry. At all. But he didn’t seem happy either. In fact, he seemed . . . nervous.
    And that was an odd thing for Lahoma’s all-school principal to seem.
    “Uh,” he said. A pause. Now it was the principal who stood there, clearing his throat, stalling, avoiding the question . . .
    Six seconds. Connor counted.
    And then it was over. And the principal took a deep breath. And the principal said, “Actually, Connor, we’re going to visit the weather mill.”
    6
    It had taken some time for Charles Arbitor to work up the nerve to do it. But finally he sat, fidgeting on the plush white couch of the Arbitors’ apartment next to his wife Olivia, holding the tablet in his sweaty hands, all fired up and ready to go.
    “Charles, for Cylis’s sake, this is one little tablet call we’re talking about. If you won’t do it, I will—” She went to grab the tablet from him, but he pulled it away quickly and held the screen out of reach.
    “I’ll do it,” he said. “I just wish I didn’t have to go behind DOME’s back about it. If they’d just agreed to put me on her assignment . . . I mean, was that really so much to ask?”
    “What—putting Erin Arbitor’s legal fate into the hands of her disgruntled, dysfunctional, beaten-down father?” Olivia laughed. “Yeah, Charles. It was. Now, are we gonna keep moping about itall morning like we did yesterday, or are we gonna do this thing before DOME beats us to it?”
    “We’re doing it, yes— Cylis —sheesh. We’re doing it,” Mr. Arbitor said. And he placed the tablet call.
    “Sierra Science Center, this is Arianna,” the doctor said from across the video connection.
    Mr. Arbitor squirmed on his sofa. His heart beat fast. “Dr. Rhyne, this is Charles Arbitor calling. I’m . . . I’m hoping you might be able to help me in a personal matter—”
    Arianna stopped him right there. “Let me guess,” she said, deadpan. “You’re looking for Erin.”
    Mr. Arbitor cleared his throat. He nodded.
    “Well, you’re out of luck,” Arianna said. “’Fraid she escaped this morning, while I was distracted, uh . . . calculating statistics . . .”
    Mr. Arbitor narrowed his eyes. Out of the video’s field of view, Olivia had her hands up in a “Who does she think she’s kidding?” sort of way.
    “Dr. Rhyne, you can’t actually expect me to believe, with the dozens of employees you have on hand over there at all hours, that you actually managed to lose—”
    “You listen here, Charles,” Dr. Rhyne interrupted. Her face was close and larger than life in the screen of Mr. Arbitor’s tablet. “I don’t care what you believe. I’m telling you Erin’s not here anymore, and that’s as far as this conversation goes.”
    It was hard for Mr. Arbitor to hide his frustration over the cross-country connection. But he did his best to smile.
    “Doctor. Please. Try to understand. I’m not calling on behalf of DOME right now. This is personal for me. This is my daughter we’re talking about, and I—” Olivia kicked him. He coughed. “My wife and I . . . we just need to know that Erin is safe.”
    In the video, Dr. Rhyne raised an eyebrow. She had clearly rested her tablet down on one of