“Winger! Pepperoni!” I froze, laptop midair ready to come down. He’d used the secret word. “It’s D-Man.”

  “What the hell, Coach?” I lowered the laptop slowly while he stripped off the mask.

  “Remember I told you that you could be tested at any time.” He grinned like he’d won a prize.

  “You’re sending me out of here with a bruised chin.” I rubbed where his fist had impacted in an effort to dull the pain. “What’ll people think?”

  “Maybe you took a puck to the face this morning and the impact left a bruise despite your helmet. You’re a hockey player, no one will give it a second thought.” He pulled the sweatshirt over his head, revealing the long-sleeve henley he’d been in before. “You did good. Up on the desk to give yourself options was a great choice. Those box jumps you’re doing for stamina came in handy. And you want to talk bruises? I’ll feel that kick in the chest for days.”

  Over the holidays Coach Daly and John, who worked with my parents and me on TOS assignments, had taught me some self-defense moves. After what I went through last fall during the tracker system hack, I wanted to know how to take care of myself better in case I ever needed to again.

  I leaned against the desk and clutched the laptop while I calmed down. I laughed. It burst out of nowhere and it wouldn’t stop.

  “Theo?” Coach sounded like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with my outburst.

  “Come on, it’s funny.” I gasped for air. “I kicked you into a wall and it was okay. How many students get to do that to a teacher?”

  Two

  “You’re the best boyfriend,” I said to Eddie as he hugged me from behind. We were done with classes for the day and at my locker. We had a little time before I had to go to MIT and Eddie had practice.

  “Why do you say that?” He leaned on my open locker door while I sorted out what I needed to take for tonight’s homework.

  “Let’s see. On the top of today’s list would be the sandwich you left in my locker. Talk about a lifesaver. Without it, I might’ve eaten a book during history class.”

  “Can’t have that. I’m pretty sure that’s not on a hockey player’s approved diet.” He tried to not laugh, but he couldn’t suppress a grin, and some giggles spilled out. “What happened to you anyway?”

  I wanted to tell him that I’d lost a friend. Lorenzo had sent me an email earlier confirming Keys hadn’t survived the mission. There were protocols to be followed before I could mention Keys’s death to anyone who hadn’t been involved—and then it’d be only with the proper clearances. For now I had to bury it because this wasn’t the time or place to work through any of that.

  “Mrs. H happened.” I dropped a couple textbooks into my backpack, along with two library books I’d grabbed during study hall because I had a paper to write. “She talked my ear off. She kept going on about how I needed to help the team with the competition they’ve entered.”

  “For an hour? She must’ve laid it on thick.”

  “It’s worth some significant cash. Thing is, I don’t know how to teach what I know. I just know it. And the stuff they’ll build, and what they have to crack, will be way too easy for me. It’ll be like it’s not encrypted at all.”

  “Condescending much?” Eddie’s expression clouded over.

  “What? You know what I do. I work on systems way beyond what any of them would’ve seen in class.” Truth was that what I worked on was further than anything they could’ve possibly seen, anywhere. My cover story was that I had my own consulting firm and when anyone asked specifics I simply said, “It’s confidential because of nondisclosure agreements.” It worked well as a lie rooted in some sort of truth.

  “You can’t be the only you out there,” he said, tone softening.

  I grabbed the locker door and Eddie moved so I could close it.

  “You’re right,” I relented. There were certainly other teenagers with similar skills. “But, if there was someone like me here, don’t you think Mrs. H would know it, especially if they were on her team?”

  “Maybe. But, you don’t have to be a dick about it.” Leave it to Eddie to knock me down a peg or two. “Are you going to help?”

  That was the question of the afternoon. We headed to the parking lot since Eddie needed to get to the pool for practice. There weren’t many people around. Most students tore out of school after the last bell. We had a little time, so we didn’t rush.

  “I’m already uncomfortable with the teaching aspect. And this is just short of being a ringer. It seems like a fine line between coaching and telling them how to just do the work. It’s not good sportsmanship. It’d be just as wrong as if she were in the room during the competition guiding them. It’d be like putting Crosby on our hockey team or Phelps on the swim team.”

  “Yes and no.”

  “What?” I said it louder than I meant to. “How can you say that? Would you want to compete against Phelps?”

  “No. Not exactly. What if a student here had the same skills you’ve got? Could they not be on the team and compete? If we had a swimmer better than the entire team, but was eligible to compete, should he be turned away? Same thing if an opponent’s team had an amazing winger. Your D, center, and goalie would have to compensate for that.”

  “But—”

  “You’re a student at this school.” Eddie was on a roll. “You’re good with a computer, probably better than anyone else. Maybe there’s someone like you at a competing school, and by being part of our team, you’ll balance things out.”

  I stopped suddenly, which forced Eddie to do the same. “You’re kinda brilliant, you know?”

  His huge smile and raised eyebrow made my heart flutter.

  “Sometimes, yeah.” He craned his head down to plant a kiss on my lips.

  A huge crash made us both jump. We looked around and saw nothing. It had to have come from the adjacent hallway. We traded concerned glances and jogged to the intersection to see what’d happened. Another smaller crash sounded when we rounded the corner.

  At the far end of the hall, someone was shoved into a classroom, and another student closed the door behind them. A backpack, computer, and books were scattered across the floor.

  “Come on.” I grabbed Eddie’s hand to pull him along as I headed toward the problem.

  “Hang on.” He resisted my efforts to move. “We should just get someone.”

  “We don’t know what’ll happen if we have to wait. You heard that racket.”

  He relented and we moved quickly down the hallway. The shouts got louder. This hall was deserted, so no one would hear the commotion except us. We stopped at the door. Through the small square window, I saw Wes Lockly, the school bully, holding some other guy by his jacket. I didn’t know his name, but he was a senior like Wes.

  I pulled open the door. “What the hell are you doing, Wes?”

  If Eddie had issues with my action, he didn’t show it. Wes and I had gotten into it once when I was a freshman, but I came out on top. I suspected with my new defensive skills, it’d be even easier if it came to that. Wes, though, tended to steer clear of jocks or anyone else who could take him.

  Wes shoved the other guy into the first row of desks. One flipped over as the guy struggled to keep his balance.

  “What’s it to you, Reese?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at us. “Why don’t you and your boy just mind your business?”

  “Your boy?” Eddie gave me an incredulous look.

  Eddie and I stepped fully into the room but left the door open. Wes didn’t show any signs of backing down, even though the odds were against him. Although it wasn’t clear if Wes’s target would be any good in a fight.

  “Let him go.” I didn’t want to drag this out for too long.

  “He owes me homework. If I don’t get it in, Carlyle’s gonna call my dad.”

  “And I told you, I was done at the end of last semester.” The other guy spoke with a surprising amount of determination in his voice.

  Wes made a fist and reared back but couldn’t connect the punch before I stepped in and yanked his arm behind his back. He grunted in pain as he squirmed to get loose, which made me only hold him tighter. Once again, what I’d learned this summer came in handy.

  “You wanna die, Reese? Let me go and I’ll forget this.”

  “How ’bout you shut up?” Eddie stepped between Wes and the other student, who used the distraction to make a hasty retreat from the room without another word. While Eddie had nearly a half foot on me, he towered even more over Wes. “You’re going to leave that guy alone. I’d suggest spending your free time with your homework.”

  “I’m gonna get you both.” Wes didn’t have much bravado left even though he threatened us.

  I pulled back on his arm more and made him wince. “I could break this in two places right now if I wanted to. Just keep talking.”

  I looked to Eddie, who stared at Wes in a standoff that lasted longer than I expected it to since Wes had no help.

  “Fine,” Wes finally resigned.

  I spun him around and pushed him toward the door. He stumbled a bit before he found the traction to stay upright.

  “You two can’t always be together. Watch your backs.” He took off. His empty threats hung in the air.

  “You’re sexy in a standoff,” I said, looking over at Eddie.

  “And you’re pretty badass.” He stole a look at his watch. “Seriously? Breaking his arm?”

  “I’ve got skills you’ve never seen.” I winked at him, and he shook his head in disbelief, which was exactly what I wanted.

  “I gotta go.” He broke into a run to get out to his Jeep. “See you tonight,” he called over his shoulder.

  At my bike, which was the sole bike locked up on the rack because it’d gotten too cold for most people to ride, I noticed Wes. He stood by his car and stared at his phone. He alternated between poking the screen and shaking the device. He looked like he might throw it across the parking lot. Between technology issues and homework, it appeared he was having a bad day. For someone else I’d go offer tech support, but I let karma have its way with him.

  Three

  It took thirty to forty minutes to cover the six miles to MIT. I loved the ride, which cut through a few different areas of the city—some residential, some industrial—and I got to go over two rivers. It relaxed me, especially on sunny, clear days like this, even though sunset had started already.

  So far it’d been a fairly mild winter with temperatures that didn’t get too cold, and there’d been very little snow. I never cycled with snow or ice on the ground or if the temperature went below twenty-five. While I liked to ride, there were times it wasn’t worth it. This afternoon’s midthirties, though, felt good.

  Besides the rivers, one of my favorite spots along my route was the windmill on Alford Street. It sat on some nicely landscaped property that happened to belong to the Boston Water and Sewer Commission. The first time I’d come upon it, I thought it must be inside a park because the area seemed too nice to belong to a city utility. Days like today, the sun glinted off the blades, giving it a bit of a glow. If you looked just right beyond it, you could see a bit of the Mystic River.

  As I approached, everything aligned to make the windmill strikingly beautiful. I stopped and looked up to watch the three blades turn. I pulled my phone from my pocket and snapped off a few pictures, which caught the blades at various angles. I wished I were a better photographer because there were probably cool shots here that I couldn’t conceive.

  A wave of tremendous sadness came out of nowhere and crashed down on me. Even bundled in a couple of layers to protect me against the chill, I felt goose bumps rise on my arms.

  Keys had been a musician in her spare time, which is where she’d originally got the nickname that became her codename. When we first got to know each other last summer while I interned at TOS HQ, she told me she’d gotten into computers because of music.

  She’d caught my confused look. I couldn’t put computers and music together. I knew computers could be used to make music, of course. I couldn’t make the leap to her current job, though.

  I learned the connections between mathematics and sound in geometry class. The teacher spent some time on Pythagoras’s work where he derived musical tones from geometrical patterns. And, of course, math had a significant role in cyber security and computers because of the logic and algorithms involved.

  Keys taught me about connections between music and math that I’d never thought about. One of the best puzzles she ever gave me had an encryption algorithm based on the percussion in a Rush song, something called “La Villa Strangiato.”

  I’d never heard of the band or the song, but I loved visiting her office because she played great music. Before she’d given me the puzzle, she played the song in the background a few times while I visited in her office. I hadn’t picked up on the connection. While I did crack the puzzle, it’d have gone much faster had I caught on to the patterns from that song. I was embarrassed I’d missed it, but fascinated at how she’d used the music to build the security. After that, I started using music sometimes too.

  I once based some cryptography off the piano from a Sara Bareilles song, guitar from Prince, and cello off a tune from the musical Spring Awakening. The odds of anyone layering those specific elements together as a potential way to break security were low. After stumping her for a few days with that, I usually based a part of any encryption I sent to her on some eclectic combination of song parts. I ensured that I didn’t get into any coding patterns that would be noticeable because she would’ve been quick to exploit them.

  I should use music more often to honor Keys.

  Before I pocketed my phone, I saw the time and realized I needed to hustle. I’d spent too much time and ran the risk of being late. It wasn’t long before I pedaled over the Mystic.

  Barely halfway across, sobs suddenly heaved through me. Tears flowed and I struggled for breath as rough sounds escaped my mouth. The cold air mixed with the tears and made it hard to see, so I pulled over. I quaked as the emotional tidal wave continued. The goose bumps at the windmill hadn’t prepared me for this.

  I got off the bike and pulled it out of the bike lane and onto the pedestrian area. Slowly, I went to the bridge railing so I could lean the bike against it. I looked out over the water and wondered if I’d broken something, because the tears wouldn’t stop. The intensity rocked me unlike anything I remembered feeling, even in the aftermath of the tracker case.

  I dropped my helmet next to the bike. With no tissues or even loose clothing to wipe my eyes with, I took off the beanie I wore under the helmet. I couldn’t stop any of it—the tears, the sniffles, the occasional anguished sound. Looking at the river only seemed to make it worse. The calm, serene beauty in the late afternoon light directly opposed the way I felt.

  “Are you okay?”

  The question startled me and I turned around fast. Two women on bikes looked at me. What would they think of me?

  I nodded and tried to pull myself together. “Yeah.” My voice cracked twice on the small word.

  The women, who looked vaguely college age, looked at each other and then back to me. The one who’d asked the question spoke again. “You’re not going to hurt yourself, are you?”

  That surprised me, but then it made total sense. Crying teenager on a bridge, of course they’d ask that.

  “No. No way.” Even I didn’t believe that, because I sounded so bad. I looked to the sky and tried to center myself. “I lost a friend today and… it kind of all hit me right here.”

  They got off their bikes and came closer.

  “Do you need to call someone to come get you?”

  Somehow a bit of a chuckle broke through the tears. “I actually need to get going. I’ve got class.” She looked confused. “I take computer-science courses at MIT.”

  “Oh.” And now she sounded surprised. “You don’t….” She trailed off.

  This actually improved my mood a lot. “It’s okay. I’m sixteen. I think you were going to say I don’t look like a college student.”

  “You’re right.” She smiled. “Do you want to ride with us? We’re headed to campus too.”

  I wiped my eyes again since the waterworks tapered off. “No, thanks. I need to make sure I’m done. Cold air and wet eyes don’t mix.”

  “Yeah.” They gave knowing nods. “Sorry about your friend.”

  “Thanks,” I managed to say.

  “We’ll get going,” the woman holding the bikes said. “We wanted to make sure nothing was going to happen to you.”

  I swallowed, determined to speak. “Thanks. I appreciate you stopped, you know, just in case.”

  We all smiled and they rode away. I pulled out my phone. I had to talk to my counselor tonight. I couldn’t have outbursts like that.

  “Shields. Winger here.”

  “Winger. Everything okay? We don’t have an appointment today.” Her calm voice, perfect for the kind of work she did, helped pull me back together. I couldn’t imagine her ever angry or even stressed.

  I explained about the mission and my breakdown on the bridge. I’d go into specifics later, but I’d said enough. With all the talk, I felt better.

  “I’m free all evening. Let’s talk after you debrief with Doctor Possible. Call me when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks, Shields. I’ll talk to you later.”

  I looked over the river and put the phone away. A couple of deep breaths and some water from my bottle and I could go again. If I hustled, I’d make it in time, and I suspected the extra physical effort would clear my head even more.

  Four

  I got home near six and found Dad in the kitchen, cooking at the stove. It wasn’t a total surprise, we all cooked from time to time, but somehow it wasn’t the scene I expected to come home to, especially since I thought he’d be on assignment for a couple more days.