"Tell Lovejoy I want to see him tonight," I whispered to Ellie as we walked down the hallway together. The bell for lunch had just rung, and the halls of Sefton Polytechnic were crowded with students, which meant nobody was paying that much attention to whatever Maggie Hunt and Ellie G had to say to each other. I had my hood pulled up, and my hands in my pockets, and I was trying very hard not to walk in a way that advertised the fact that I had three fractured ribs. Ellie, as usual, looked effortlessly cool.
Though, to be fair, she also hadn't fallen off the roof over the weekend.
"Will do," said Ellie. "And, uh, Maggs, please don't be mad at me, but I may have, uh, held back some things over the past couple days while you were, y'know, recovering."
"Such as?" I said suspiciously.
Ellie fiddled a little with her Monroe piercing before answering.
"Well, Izzy got Winslow Mercer," she said in a low voice. "Like, really got him. There was hardly anything left of him when the police got there. Sloane said they had to ID him with his teeth—yuck."
"Did anyone else get hurt?"
"Oh, yeah. Two bodyguards and Mercer's girlfriend also got it. Izzy clobbered the bodyguards and threw the girlfriend out a window. Seemed like she was pretty pissed after that little convo with you."
"Well, I wasn't too pleased with her either. Are all of Mercer's girls are okay?"
Ellie nodded.
"I guess Rosie must've called ahead and told them all to clear out. So that's something. But... there is one other thing."
We paused just outside the double doors to the cafeteria.
"So, like, while you were unconscious in the cave, Psychosis and his gang robbed the Sarnoff Chemical Plant over on Verger Island."
"While I was unconscious?" I said. "Wait, why does it seem like Psychosis only makes trouble when he knows I'm safely out of the way? That... can't be a coincidence, right?"
Ellie shifted uncomfortably on her feet.
"It's not." Reaching into her jacket, Ellie pulled out a long wire with a tiny microphone at one end—like something right out of a WWII spy movie. "We were bugged."
"We were what?" I said furiously.
"Shh," said Ellie. "Psychosis must have put it in, like, six months ago. It runs on the same power supply as all the rest of the stuff in the church tower. I guess he must've been listening in when he planned his escape from Rothko, and when he robbed the armored truck."
"Have you checked for more?" I asked pointedly.
"Yeah," said Ellie. "Swept the whole church from top to bottom—your fangirls are very thorough. This was the only one."
"Well, that explains some of our horrible luck," I said. "So, what'd he take from the chemical plant?"
"A lot," said Ellie, taking a folded paper out of her backpack. "I know you're, like, kind of our science person, but you were... y'know, so I took it to Emery, and she said it looks like—."
"Explosives," I said as I ran my finger down the list of stolen items. "Like the kind Josie used to make, but enough to level a skyscraper."
Ellie nodded.
"Yeah. Very not good."
I groaned, but immediately regretted it, because it made my ribs hurt.
"We better get lunch," I said. "I think I'm gonna tell Izzy I've got a project to work on. Hopefully she won't notice the huge bruise on my forehead."
"Good luck," said Ellie, and we both joined the last of the stragglers heading into lunch.
The cafeteria at Sefton Polytechnic bore a strange resemblance to the dreary dining hall of a Victorian orphanage, with its long, dusty windows and gray limestone floors that were thoroughly scuffed from about one hundred years of chair legs and tennis shoes. The school's shotgun wedding of Collegiate Gothic and Art Deco had never really worked, and I guess the architect had given up by the time he got to this part of the building and just went full Oliver Twist. As if to make us all feel even less at home, some superintendent in the 1970s had replaced all the light fixtures with fluorescent bulbs and sent all the wood furniture to the dump, leaving the student body to sit on plastic benches and enjoy our very indifferent lunches in the flickering glow of unnatural light. On days like this, when a light rain was pattering against the windows and the clouds were blocking most of the sunlight, it could be positively gloomy. I shuffled listlessly through the lunch line, trying to decide which of the various unpalatable offerings were the most painless way to get the calories I needed, and then swung by the soda machine to see if it was back in working order. Naturally, it was still broken. I was just trying to see if Izzy had already settled into our usual table when I heard a familiar voice at my left elbow.
"Yo, Margaret."
"Don't you dare!" I said, retreating before the punch Anaya Strawter was aiming at my stomach.
"Ooh, look who's finally gotten quick on her feet," said Anaya, grinning nefariously. "You look terrible, by the way. You trip down the stairs on the way to Chem or something?"
"No," I said irritably. "I fell off a roof. And I need to eat lunch, so—."
But Anaya had already caught me by the arm.
"Nice try," she said.
"Ow! What are your skinny little fingers made of?"
"A reinforced alloy of relentless sass and unbreakable willpower," she said. "And you're not sitting with the mafia princess today. It's team lunch and Amber's mom brought pizza. I know you'd hate to miss out."
"I'm not on the team," I said skeptically. "Neither are you."
"Well, they are looking for a new mascot," Anaya grinned. "Since you have so much experience jumping around in a costume, why don't you—?"
I shushed her.
"Look, I'm an honorary member of the team," said Anaya. "And you're my plus-one. There, now dump your plate and let's go make nice with your old friends."
I probably would've refused point blank if I hadn't already been looking for a way to avoid Izzy that day, so reluctantly, and with plenty of mutinous muttering, I followed Anaya Strawter to the long table where my old basketball teammates were sitting.
Gennifer's face actually turned a pasty green when she saw me sit down across from her. The other girls scooted away from me.
"A-Anaya," she said. "Um, are you sure that—?"
"Yep. You two are going to make up. And don't even try to argue with me, Gen. You can either patch things up with Hunt, or I'll tell Coach where you were when you missed practice that one time back in February."
Well, apparently this was a coerced reconciliation on both sides. I tried not to look too pleased at Gennifer's expression of abject terror at whatever Anaya was threatening to reveal. I could tell there was a boy involved. There always was with Gen.
"Now," said Anaya, rubbing her hands together maliciously. "Let's start with you, Maggs. Is there anything you'd like to say to Gen?"
"Nope," I said, taking a bite of pizza. I wasn't going to make this too easy for her.
"Maggs."
I gulped down my mouthful of food and sighed.
"Fine. I'm sorry for punching you in the face."
"And?" Anaya prompted.
"And I'm sorry for breaking your phone."
"And?"
I was already getting irritated with this whole routine. What else was there? I mean, besides shutting Gennifer and all my other teammates out after the Icemane thing, and acting like they'd never even mattered to me, and... oh. Right.
"And I'm sorry for quitting the team without talking to you," I said, in a voice that was barely more than a mumble.
"And?"
"Sorry for breathing. I dunno, what else did I do?"
Anaya shrugged.
"Just wanted to make sure you weren't holding back on me. Nice apology, by the way. I can tell we're dealing with deep stuff here. Your turn, Gen."
"Anaya—."
"Talk to Maggs or I talk to Coach," said Anaya threateningly. "Just think of all those suicides she's gonna make when she finds out you—."
"Okay, fine," said Gennifer. "You win. Just let me—."
But I never got to hear Gennifer's forced apology, because at that moment, the doors of the cafeteria burst open, and Eric Colborne—flanked by five armed goons—swaggered into the room.