Escape Velocity

Chapter Nine

During the quick break, I had grabbed a corner and gotten lost in the diary. If Melisse's laugh down the hall hadn't startled me, I would've been embarrassingly late, as in walking-into-the-room-after-class-had-begun late. It was bad enough that I was the last through the door.

There was one seat left. At the tandem desk with Kate, of course. She dangled one arm at her side and slouched in her chair as if she were in her living room at home. I half-expected her to put her feet on the desk, though I knew she wouldn't dare. Christina and Olivia sat stiffly at the edges of their seats, fidgeting and whispering, while Melisse leaned forward like she hoped to see through the magician's tricks. Liz seemed natural and relaxed.

Be like Liz.

Besides the three shared desks where we sat, the room had six computer stations along one wall and a 3-D printer in the back. Mr. Hopkins sat alone near a podium in front of a whiteboard; Dr. Wilder and Ms. Robbins had bailed as soon as he'd arrived. Mr. Hopkins took silent attendance as he surveyed the room, and finally he leaned back and crossed his legs. He wore purple argyle socks, and one pant leg rode up, revealing a red birthmark on a pale, hairy leg. No one else seemed to notice, but...ick.

Mr. Hopkins said, "We're starting off with a creative exercise as a warm-up."

Christina giggled nervously, which led to a snort from Liz, but Mr. Hopkins continued as our squirming caused our chairs to squeak and scrape on the gray linoleum. "I've written a number on the back of this index card. It is between one and two hundred. You have ninety seconds to find out the number. You can ask me any question to help you identify the number. The clock starts now."

Liz leaped in. "Is it fifty?"

"No."

"Two hundred."

Mr. Hopkins smiled at my guess. "No."

I shrugged. I figured it was worth a shot.

Melisse went with the opposite possibility. "One."

"No."

There were more guesses and moments of silence as we strained to come up with the solution. Time was running out. Mr. Hopkins seemed to savor each incorrect guess, and after each one, his teeth showed through his thin lips as he said "No."

Soon everyone yelled out answers making it impossible to distinguish anyone. Christina gave up raising her hand like she usually did and asked, "Is it between one hundred and two hundred?"

"No."

"Fifty and one hundred?" I asked.

"Yes."

This sent us into another frenzy of shouting, but the clock ticked down.

"Remember, any question."

Twenty seconds.

Creative thinking he'd said. Any question he'd said. My thoughts were cluttered, going every which way. Slow down. There has to be a question guaranteed to tell us exactly what the number was. It had to be obvious, but not obvious. I must be making assumptions that were blocking me. But what? Stop guessing blindly at the number. We weren't asking questions; we were shouting numbers.

Yes! Ask him to tell us the number.

"Mr. Hopkins, what's the number?" Kate asked with the usual tilt of her head.

He flipped the card over. "It's sixty-three," he said as the timer chimed ninety seconds.

I doubted any of us would have put money on Kate coming up with the solution, not even Mr. Hopkins. Now I faced the consequences of another serious mistake: underestimating Kate's abilities.