Disruption (14 page)

I swallowed. She was right. This was CIA spy camp. I needed to be tougher. I turned to face Chase just as she yelled out, “Fight.”

Chase’s fist came straight for my face, and purely by instinct, I dropped my chin to my chest. His fist struck me on the top of my head, and I heard a crunch
.
Here’s something you might not have known: the top of your head is actually really hard. It doesn’t feel nice to get punched there, but it hurts the person punching a lot worse than it hurts the person getting punched.

Chase recoiled, holding his fist, and I smiled. He swung again, this time with his other hand. I didn’t react nearly as fast. His hand hammered against my face, and the entire globe seemed to shift on its axis. I didn’t even see him kick me, but my leg suddenly buckled under me, and I dropped to my knee. Images of what the girl had done to the first guy filled my mind, and I brought my arms up on either side of my head. Chase grinned and then lunged out to kick again.

I remember seeing the tread on his shoe and thinking he couldn’t possibly be about to kick me in the face.

That’s about the time everything went black.

Chapter 21

When I woke up, I was staring up at the plump face of Dr. Lester.

Again.

“W-what happened?” I stammered.

“Really?” Juno’s voice came from over the doctor’s shoulder. “You got KO’d by Chase.” He tsked
and then added, “You broke his finger, though.”

“On what, my face?” I asked. “I might have had more of a chance if it wasn’t for my hand.”

Juno and the doctor gave me looks of disbelief. I sighed. Okay, not even I believed that.

“How long have I been out?”

Juno took a slow breath and shook his head. “Days, man. We have a Delta event tomorrow. It’s going to be rough.”

I felt my mouth drop and jerked my head toward the doctor.

“Okay, take it easy,” Dr. Lester said. “You’ve been out for about three minutes. He’s just messing with you. Now stop moving around.” The doctor sponged more blood off my face and pressed on the bridge of my nose with his thumb. “Nothing’s broken, but you’re going to look like a raccoon for a few days.”

I groaned.

“And you’ve opened the stitches in your hand, so I’ll have to redo those, as well.” He blew out a breath that smelled like onions and coffee grounds. “When’s your next self-defense activity?”

I looked at Juno, and he answered. “We have one tomorrow and then again on Thursday. Before the next Delta event.”

Labored breathing filtered through the paper-thin curtain that was pulled around the farthest bed in the row. I imagined the breathing belonged to the guy whose face had been smashed by that ninja chick.

The doctor pursed his lips. “Then I suggest,” he said, while he set to work on my hand, “that you spend the next couple of days learning how to fight one-handed.”

“Thanks for the advice,” I said. Although, learning to fight with one hand was probably something best done
after
learning to fight with two. As if anyone could learn to fight in just a couple days.

“I’ll teach you,” Juno said. “We’ll have to do it in the mornings, but Yaakov already asked me, so you should come too.”

“Really?” I asked. “You’d be up for that?”

“Better than having two teammates that get beat up every time things get rough.”

I nodded. “Sign me up.”

Another camper limped into the room, and the doctor put him on one of the other beds and pulled the curtain around it. He went back and forth among the three of us, and by the time I was done, it was getting close to dinner.

When we rejoined the team, Angie laughed when she saw my hand and face, but Rylee and Amara appeared worried. No one made fun of me, though, not even Angie—well, except for her original snicker. But if I had been in their shoes, there were a dozen things I would’ve said to make fun of me.

We ran into Chase and his crew along the path to the dining hall.

“I owe you a broken finger,” Chase spat out at me as he and his people blocked our way. His middle finger had a metal splint, and he flashed it at me. “And I always pay my debts.”

I laughed. “Well, people who lend you money will be grateful to hear that.”

Chase took a step toward me, and instantly, the rest of my team stepped up and blocked his advance. Even Yaakov stepped up, though he was a few inches behind the rest of them.

Chase stopped and took a step back, sneering. “What a bunch of rejects.” His team laughed behind him. “There’s a reason none of you have ever been on a Delta team before. You all suck. And now you get an even bigger loser as your Delta.” He laughed again. “Pathetic.”

Yaakov cleared his throat. “You know, Chase, I caught a glimpse of the admission scores for this year.”

Chase crossed his arms. “So? Big deal. My hacker pulled them up too.”

“No, he didn’t.” Yaakov spoke with such absolute certainty it was clear he knew precisely what had and had not been hacked and by whom. Everyone on the path heard it in his tone, and not even Chase tried to insist otherwise. “If he had,” Yaakov continued, “you wouldn’t be so smug. Matt’s not even the only one who had better scores than you.”

Chase laughed. “Him? Yeah, right.”

“He does,” Yaakov said. “But Miller had better scores than both of you.”

Chase’s team murmured behind him. He jerked around. “Shut up.” They did as they were told. “Miller? And that little twerp?” He pointed at me. “No. Possible. Way.”

Yaakov shrugged. “If you had hackers on your team worth anything, they’d have been able to tell you that already.”

Chase turned again and glared at his teammates.

One of them shook her head. “He’s lying,” she said. “He couldn’t have hacked the system. It isn’t possible.”

Yaakov laughed, and so did I.

Chase turned around, drew a slow, deliberate breath, and swung at my head. His fist was deflected by Juno’s hand. Time seemed to slow down and stretch out at that moment. Rage flashed in Chase’s eyes. My gaze drifted over his shoulder where his teammates were each shifting their weight on to the balls of their feet.

Then time snapped back to regular speed, and I swore as team Squirrel—the entire team—attacked at the exact same time, as if they’d choreographed each movement. Juno moved like a cobra and kept deflecting attacks against me. Angie had one of the Squirrels in a headlock and was feeding him punches, street-fighter style. Yaakov was on his back, getting kicked by the girl who’d insisted hacking the camp was impossible. She gave at least three kicks before Rylee came out of nowhere and tackled her. The two of them rolled off the path, grunting and trading blows.

Amara squared off with two others. He was holding his own, but his opponents landed several strikes. I charged over to help him, only to get decked by the guy I was about to tackle. I stumbled back a couple steps as my vision blurred, but not enough that I didn’t spot the dark figure rushing toward me. I clenched my fist and swung.

I connected with a satisfying
whap
, and the figure grunted and then swore. The voice was easy to recognize, and I froze. Behind me, the battle came to an immediate stop, and as my vision returned to normal, I found myself staring up at the expressionless face of Mr. Smith.

I swallowed. “S-sir,” I said, “I’m so—”

He held up his hand and straightened. “Fighting?” It was a question he clearly didn’t expect us to answer. He snapped his fingers, and Chase moved to my right. Smith’s voice became a whisper. “The path around the camp is completely, entirely, and without exception off limits for fighting.” His eyes flicked over my shoulder toward the forest and then over his own shoulder as two other counselors jogged over. One of them was Ms. Clakk, and she looked positively murderous. Smith shook his head at them, and they stopped a few feet behind him, their arms crossed. “If any of you violates another rule at this camp,” Smith said, “you’re history. Got it?”

Grizzlies and Squirrels nodded together.

“Laps,” he said finally. “Twenty of them.” He pointed to the campers behind me who disentangled themselves from one another. “That goes for every last one of the lot.”

“Laps of the, er, field . . . sir?” I asked.

He rubbed his hand under his nose, then checked his finger as if he expected blood. I suppose I had hit him pretty hard. But in my defense, I’d thought he was Chase, and I wanted to get at least one solid shot before he had the chance to do anything to me.

Mr. Smith drew a breath, rolled his head, and let it out slowly. “The camp, Mr. Cambridge.” He gestured to the path. “If you’re going to learn there’s no fighting on the path, you should become very, very familiar with every part of it.”

He turned and stormed away, and Ms. Clakk stepped up and grabbed me by the arm and hauled me a few paces away from Chase. The other counselor went to Chase, and I figured he must’ve been Team Squirrel’s counselor.

“What are you doing?” Clakk asked. She spoke through clenched teeth, half whispering. “Do you want to get kicked out?”

I shook my head.

“When you mess up, it makes me look bad. I decided to give you some slack, Matt. You did well in the preliminary rankings. You had decent scores from past camps. But if you pull another stunt like this, I’ll either hold your hand through each event and make you look incompetent, or I’ll just tell the directors you’re a lost cause and you and your pathetic group deserve to be cut from the program.” She sneered at my teammates and then turned back to me. “If you have any shot at winning, you’d better learn diplomacy. Learn to fight smarter. If someone pisses you off, beat them by making them look bad. Don’t risk your future with the Agency by showing you can’t follow the simplest rules.”

Winning was the furthest thing from my mind. Not getting discovered as an impostor on the other hand . . .

Clakk rolled her head and then pointed to the path. “No. Fighting. On. The. Path.” She eyed me for a second and added, “Got it?”

“Got it,” I said.

She turned to my teammates. “Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” they answered together.

She clapped her hands. “Get moving. It’s getting late.”

Chapter 22

No one spoke for several laps—not until Yaakov and Angie begged everyone to let them walk a bit. Chase’s team had started running while Clakk was ripping a strip off us, and they’d long disappeared into the distance. The whole time we’d been running, I had been cursing myself for my stupidity. Why did I always have to draw attention to myself? Here I was, in a bona fide spy camp, with an opportunity to learn how to shoot guns and fight and . . . well, I wasn’t sure what else, but other cool stuff, without a doubt—and I go and deck one of the head people here. I cursed myself for not listening to my dad. He told me to fly under the radar, and from the moment I entered this place, I couldn’t have been a bigger blip on their screen if I’d been hitting it with a baseball bat.

If they hadn’t wondered about my history before, they did now. I bet they were having a big meeting about it. I wondered if I’d make it the full twenty laps before Mr. Smith, or perhaps one of the other counselors, showed up and led me away. Deceiving the CIA had to be one of those crimes that landed you in a prison far away in a country no one’s ever heard of where they can torture you without violating any laws.

“I can’t believe you punched Mr. Smith in the face,” Juno said.

Angie laughed.

“I didn’t know it was him,” I snapped.

“Whoa,” Angie said, still laughing, “take it easy. We got laps, and we’ll probably miss dinner. No biggie.”

“I’m sure they’re just waiting until we’re done before they drop the news that they’re kicking me out,” I said gruffly.

“I thought you didn’t care,” Amara said. “You didn’t seem that concerned about getting kicked out of the program before.”

“Yeah, well,” I started, “
now
I care.”

“Good,” Rylee said, “it’s about time you took this seriously. If we don’t win, we’ll want to do well enough to be invited back for the fall session. To be sure of a spot, we have to place in the top three.” She stuck out her chin. “But I expect us to win the whole competition.”

“Yeah, sure,” Angie said. “We have about as much chance of winning overall as Yaakov has of getting a girlfriend.”

“You’re hilarious,” Yaakov said, huffing.

Fall sessions? So these camps weren’t just a summer thing? I wondered what you got if you won. I made a mental note to broach that subject carefully the next time an opportunity presented itself.

My stomach grumbled, and I suddenly wanted to get this over with. I’d done track in school, and running wasn’t something that bothered me much. Missing meals, on the other hand—that bothered me a great deal. I sighed and started jogging again.

“Oh, c’mon,” Yaakov said. “We have to run again? We’ve barely had time to rest.”

I turned around and walked backward. “Don’t run if you don’t want to,” I said. “I couldn’t care less.”

“Then we don’t need to run together?” Juno asked.

“Why the heck would I care?”

Juno flashed a smile. “Anyone wanna race? Maybe we’ll catch up to the Squirrels and taunt them a bit.”

“Don’t,” I said. “Please. You heard Clakk. I think she’s just looking for an excuse to kick us all out.”

“Not so easy to do,” Amara said. “No matter what she says.”

I eyed him carefully. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “My father sent me here to be taught the things he can’t teach me. If I were to get kicked out of the program for something like fighting, he’d have an issue with that.”

Things he can’t teach me. Did that mean Amara’s dad was a spy? Is that how this camp worked? Were all these kids related to spies? I rubbed my forehead. That didn’t seem right. Maybe Amara was a special case. Like how some kids get accepted to universities just because their parents and grandparents graduated from that university too.

I decided not to push with the questions.

“Well . . . good,” I managed. “That’s good to hear.” I nodded at the path. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get these laps over with.” I turned and started jogging again. Everyone kept up for a while, almost a whole lap actually, but then Yaakov dropped back, and Angie did too. Juno decided I was going a bit slower than he liked, and he bolted forward. Amara tried to keep up with him, and when the two of them disappeared around a corner, it looked like he was doing a pretty good job of it.