No Test for the Wicked: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Five (7 page)

“I thought this was a school for technologically gifted and talented kids. Mack hardly seems the type.”

She laughed. “Technologically gifted. Sure, that’s the public face. But look around. You aren’t going to find this level of equipment and instruction via funds provided through the state or the District of Columbia.”

For the first time I wondered. Bonnie had said it was a private school, not a state-funded one. Apparently I’d made an inaccurate assumption about admissions standards. “I guess you’re right.”

“Well, there is a decent percentage of gifted and talented kids that get in, some on their own merit and some subsidized by scholarships or the city. But if your family has the money and you want to come here—trust me, you’re in. Which explains why we are chock-full of self-important rich kids.”

“What about you?”

“Me? Well, I could have got in here on my brain alone, but I didn’t. I’m here because of my dad. He’s the Irish ambassador.”

“You’re Piper?” I blurted it out without thinking.

She turned around, stared at me. “How did you know my name?”

“Ah, I heard someone talking about the Irish ambassador’s kid this morning in the office while I was waiting for my schedule. You...you don’t have an accent.”

“I can turn it on and off at will. Don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. What were they saying about me in the office this time?”

“This time?”

“Yeah, they’re always blaming me for something.”

“That sucks.”

“Tell me about it.” We reached the classroom door and Piper reached for the handle. “You’ll have to tell me later what they were saying.”

Jeez. At least I had a whole class period to make something up.

Chapter Nine

It seemed like the day would never end. I questioned myself at least a hundred times as to whether my approach would be successful. I had hoped to talk more with Piper, but the unexpected fire drill (thanks, Brandon) ate up most of the class time. Then Piper disappeared from the classroom the minute the bell rang. I checked my schedule and saw it was time for lunch. My heart sank. Great, now I had to suffer through gross cafeteria food.

I returned to my locker, deposited my books and notebooks, then followed the crowd until I found the cafeteria. I waited in line. This was not the cafeteria food of my youth. This food actually looked
and
smelled good.

“Wow,” I said, staring at the choices behind the glass.

“It’s catered,” the girl in front of me said. “I’m a freshman and I’ve already gained five pounds this year.”

She looked skinny as a stick, but I kept silent. I took a ham and cheese sandwich, an apple, bottled water and some curly fries and loaded them on a tray. I paid cash and then headed into the cafeteria. I felt the same sinking in my stomach as I’d felt every day in high school—where to sit and with whom. I looked around the room and fell upon a lone figure sitting alone at a table.

Wally.

I made a beeline for his table. He looked up when I arrived and didn’t seem happy to see me.

“Hey, Wally. Can I sit here?”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Why?”

He jerked his head toward another table where Mack, his friends and a couple of girls sat eating and laughing.

I sat down anyway. “What’s their deal?”

“They’re jerks.”

“That goes without saying. Why do they have it in for you?”

“I keep killing the curve in English.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s not enough?”

I sighed. “You’re scared of them?”

He took a bite of a sandwich, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “In the sense that they make my life miserable, yes.”

“Why do you let them?”

He laughed. “How do I stop them? I’m clearly unable to validate myself to their standards and therefore, I don’t fit in. High school is what it is. A nightmare of viciousness, exclusivity and myopic vision.”

Since I couldn’t argue with that, I didn’t. I focused instead on eating my lunch. For a while we sat chewing in silence. After a bit, I forced myself to continue the conversation.

“What kind of activities do you do at school?”

He frowned. “Activities?”

“As in extracurricular.”

“Oh, those. Well, I—”

Before he could finish, I saw a horrified expression cross his face. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see Mack lunging toward me. He faked tripping and then dumped his soda—ice and all—on top of my head. I gasped, leaping to my feet, soda dripping down my hair and cheeks, and off my chin.

Mack grinned. “Whoops. I am
so
sorry, new girl. I guess I can be a klutz, too. It’s so unfortunate this had to happen to you on your first day of school. My bad.”

I stood there dripping wet, glaring at him.

He flicked a piece of ice off my head. “Better go see the nurse. You’re all wet.” He strode past me. As he passed Wally, he hissed, “You’re next, loser.”

After he left, Wally stood up, handing me some napkins. “I told you to stay away from me. Now you know why.”

Without another word, he picked up his tray and walked away.

Sighing, I wiped off some of the mess with a napkin and then dumped the remains of my lunch in the trash. I then went to my locker and retrieved my school sweater. In the bathroom, I used paper towels to rinse my hair and wash my face and arms the best I could. It had been a sugary drink, so no matter how much I wiped, I was still sticky...and mad. I took off my wet shirt, rinsed it, wrung it out, and put it back on. It was uncomfortable, but I pulled my sweater on over it and sucked it up.

I checked to see what class I had next—Red Teaming and Deception Analysis. I found the room before the bell rang this time. When I came in, I saw Brandon and Piper sitting near the back of the room. I headed toward them and took an empty seat behind Piper and across from Brandon.

“Surprise. We’re in the same class,” Brandon said, twirling his pencil.

“Looks like it.”

“You must be pretty capable on the keyboard. There’re only a few of us permitted in here.”

I looked around and realized he was right. I counted six students including myself. “I can handle a keyboard.”

“We’ll see.”

“Guess we will.”

He studied me. “I saw the stunt Mack pulled in lunch, dumping his drink on you. That was shark cage—level shit.”

I shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Why didn’t you tell on him?”

“On my first day? Hopefully I’ve got more grit than that.”

He grinned. “Good for you. Want to get revenge?”

“Brandon,” Piper hissed. “Knock it off.”

Brandon kept his eyes on me, and I didn’t look away. After a moment, I spoke. “Logically speaking, taking revenge on the likes of Mack is a royal waste of time.”

“Truth...to a certain extent. Could be fun.”

“Could be. What did you have in mind?”

Before he could answer the teacher strolled in. I looked up and saw Mr. Jouret, the teacher I’d met earlier in the hallway. His gaze locked on mine and he cocked his head, puzzled.

“Wait. You’re the new girl. Are you sure you’re in the right classroom?”

I held up my schedule. “Red Teaming and Deception Analysis.”

“This is a very advanced computer class. Most students have to be cleared by me first.”

“The headmistress approved. She saw my transcripts and felt I’d be a good fit here.”

He frowned. “She didn’t consult with me. I’ll have to speak with her later.”

I didn’t say anything, so he closed the door. “So, what’s your name again?”

“Lex—ah, Lara. Lara Carson. Yes, that’s it.”

He looked at me like I was an idiot. Maybe I was. This master of deception thing was a lot harder than I’d thought.

“Well, Miss Carson, I suppose it’s a good thing you’re here today since we’re having a pop quiz. It will give me a chance to measure your knowledge.”

Brandon groaned and knocked his head against the desk while the other kids sighed. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a pencil. Mr. Jouret went to his desk to retrieve the quiz when Brandon leaned toward me, whispering.

“He’s a self-indulgent, puffed-up excuse for a teacher who doesn’t know jack about anything. He’s new here, but acts like he’s God’s gift to the keyboard. Don’t let him intimidate you. Just do your best.”

“I’m not intimidated,” I whispered back.

“Good.”

Mr. Jouret handed out the quiz. I glanced at it and saw there were ten questions. He told us to get to work, so I did. I finished the quiz in about four minutes and peeked over at Brandon. He was on question number two. Jeez, maybe I should have gotten one wrong or something.

I looked over at Mr. Jouret and saw him staring at me.

“Miss Carson, are you having trouble?”

“Ah, no.”

“Then why are you just sitting there?”

“Well...I’m done.”

Brandon and Piper glanced up, their eyes widening.

Mr. Jouret stood and walked over, picking up my quiz. He glanced at my answers and then at me. “Just exactly where did you transfer from?”

“Um, a small private school in Switzerland.” Maybe I’d overdone that part.

He stroked his chin. “I see.”

He frowned and, keeping my quiz, walked back to his desk. After another twenty minutes, everyone else had finished. Mr. Jouret collected the rest of the quizzes and stacked them on his desk.

“How the hell did you finish so quickly?” Brandon whispered.

“I’m smart?”

He laughed. “Damn, that’s pretty cool.”

“Hush, you two,” Piper hissed at us over her shoulder. “Here he comes.”

Mr. Jouret began strolling through the class, discussing how to discern and counter a cyber opponent’s deceptions. I tried to appear interested, but it was really basic stuff and my mind began to wander. I began trying to think like a student. I didn’t like my grade. I wanted to adjust it, so what would be the optimum way to plug in to change it?

The kids had obviously been doing it from the inside by stealing the teachers’ passwords and then using any remote or school terminal they wanted. But once they were in, they had to have a system or a method to bridge the network in order to slide in surreptitiously and make the changes.

“Miss Carson?”

A hand slapped down on my desk.

Crap. Mr. Jouret had asked me a question and I hadn’t heard him. It really
was
like I was back in high school again. Drifting, daydreaming and solving tech problems in my head that had nothing to do with the class I was in.

I swallowed and tried not to look guilty. “Um, could you repeat the question, please?”

It was evident he knew I wasn’t paying attention. Still, he gamely repeated it.

“Seeing as how you apparently have had some exposure to the concept of red teaming, explain to me the theoretical importance of deception analysis in cybersecurity.”

It was a ridiculously hard question for a high school student, but for some reason he had his hackles up. He probably didn’t like the way I’d breezed through his test. Now he wanted to reestablish his dominance in the classroom. The best way to do that was to humiliate me in front of the students.

I considered my approach. He didn’t realize it, but he’d given me the perfect opportunity to shine in front of my peers. But I had to handle it carefully. I didn’t want to come off as
too
smart or cocky. I had to answer this question just right, so I chose my words carefully.

“That’s a really hard question, Mr. Jouret, and I’m just learning about this concept, but I once heard a story from a teacher that may help explain how I understand deception analysis. The story went like this...there was a judge who had several law interns. He decided to task them with determining the answer to a specific question. He told the interns he wanted them to figure out why jurors in his courthouse were taking an inordinately longer time to come to a verdict in comparison to other juries in the same county.”

I looked around and saw the students watching me intently. So was Mr. Jouret, a frown furrowing between his eyes.

I took a deep breath and continued. “So, the interns set about their task with great enthusiasm. They studied everything starting with the jurors, the way they were selected, the lawyers, the physical organization of the courtroom and the layout of the jury room. Finally after spending about a month or more analyzing all the data and information, the interns told the judge they’d figured out why the jury in his courthouse took so much longer to come to a verdict.”

It was so quiet in the classroom, you could hear a pin drop. Mr. Jouret perched on the corner of an empty desk. “Please continue, Miss Carson.”

“Well, the interns told the judge the round tables in his jury rooms were the issue. Their analysis determined that juries who were seated around a round table took nearly twice as long to come to a verdict than those who sat at rectangular tables. The interns, quite pleased with themselves, then asked the judge if he wanted them to replace the round tables with rectangular ones.”

Brandon leaned forward so far he almost tipped his desk over. “So, what did the judge say?”

“The judge told them absolutely not. He wanted to keep the round tables. Of course, the interns were quite surprised. They thought the judge wanted them to figure out how to get the juries to come to a quicker decision. But that wasn’t the case at all. The judge’s instructions to the interns were simply to find out why juries took longer in deliberation in his courtroom. The interns,
on their own
, perceived that the judge wanted to improve the speed of his juries. That was a faulty assumption. In fact, the judge tasked the interns because he wanted to know how to
keep
his juries deliberating for longer periods of time. He knew that statistics have shown that juries who take more time make better and more thorough decisions. That’s the kind of jury he wanted in his courtroom.”

“While that’s fascinating, the point is?” Mr. Jouret asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The point is you have to be careful in your assumptions about what
you
think your cyber adversary is after. That is the core of deception analysis. A good adversary will trick you into thinking you know what he wants when, in reality, he’s going after the exact opposite.”

Mr. Jouret’s mouth fell open. After a moment the students started clapping. Brandon stared at me with wide eyes. Jeez. I’d probably overdone it.

Well, my plan was to get in with the tech kids, and I didn’t have time to fool around with false modesty. Only time would tell if I’d overplayed it. I’d definitely proven to my peers that I had the smarts to, at the very least, be included in a hacker’s group. It would be most unfortunate—although given my track record with people, not inconceivable—if I were excluded from my own peers.

Class ended shortly after that, and after two more classes, so did the school day. Thank God, I’d survived another day at high school.

Barely.

Sighing, I returned to my locker, sorted through the books I’d need for my homework, then stuffed them in my backpack. I slipped on my coat and smashed the cap back over my blonde ponytail before heading out to the parking lot. Before I got to my car, I ran into Piper, Brandon and Wally. They were huddled together, talking. They stopped when they saw me.

“Hey, Lara.” Wally lifted a gloved hand.

I almost corrected him on my name and literally had to bite my tongue. I winced and pressed my hand against my mouth.

“Hey, you were awesome today in Jouret’s Red Teaming class,” Brandon asked. “He almost crapped a brick. He’s probably in fear for his job now.”

“I wasn’t that impressive. It was just a story.”

“No, seriously, it was way prime.”

Piper nodded. “You totally stunned him into silence. I’ve never seen him like that. It was a great story.”

“Well, thanks, I guess.” I gingerly rolled my tongue where I had bit it. “What are you guys doing?”