Chapter 12
Thomas
It’s torture not seeing her today. Before we parted, we agreed to meet again on Wednesday, but because of our involvement with the freedom movement, we can’t be seen in public together or communicate in any way that the government might be able to track. We set up an additional dead drop scheduled for Monday/Wednesday, so we can communicate more frequently. It wouldn’t be a good idea to use the same sites we have been using, so we pick two different locations.
I force myself to focus on my classes and do my coursework. The person who spoke to us at the meeting stressed how important it was for us to continue being good students and keep our grades up, so no one thinks anything in our lives has changed. And staying in school is critical to what we’re doing with the reveal parties.
Wednesday finally arrives, and I get to see Veritas again. We talk for hours about all sorts of things as we walk around the abandoned schoolhouse like it’s our own private home. When we kiss right before we part for the night, I don’t want to let her go.
On Friday, when I pick up the note from the dead drop, I find instructions on making my first invitation drop. I’m to go to the school library and look up a book in the physical stacks with call number ‘216 BURNS’. On page 237, I’ll find the invitation, the dorm room number where I’m to deliver it, and an override passcode that will get me inside the cubicle. There will also be information about the best possible time to deliver the invitation based on when both roommates will most likely be out.
I go to the library and do as I’ve been instructed. The library is huge. It’s three stories tall, and each floor feels as large as a football field. You’d think with so much online material we wouldn’t need all these physical books anymore. I guess teachers just can’t bear to part with them. I’m partial to the experience of using a physical book myself. There’s something about the feel of it in my hands, the smell, the act of turning a paper page. It’s also nice that I can always read a book without having to remember to plug it in each night before I go to bed.
Judging from the dozens of people I encounter on my way to my destination, I’m not alone in my penchant for physical books. By the time I get to the reference section, though, the crowd has decidedly thinned. There’s only one kid at the tables. They have a stack of large tomes surrounding them like the walls of a castle keep. Their face is buried in a book just a few inches above the printed page in what appears to be intense concentration—either that or they’ve fallen asleep and slumped forward. Besides them, no one else appears to be around.
I make my way down the aisle on which my book is located, scanning the call numbers on the spines as I go. Finally, I locate it towards the end of the aisle on the bottom row. They made a good choice to pick a book so close to the floor. That way, I can set my backpack down beside it and transfer the invitation without being seen.
I slide the ancient volume from its resting place—a book on the topic of good and evil that looks like it’s probably older than either of my parents. Turning to page 237, I find the invitation and accompanying information.
“Finding what you need?”
I nearly jump out of my skin as I turn to see a librarian standing at the end of the aisle, their smock with the school emblem on it neatly secured with a double-loop tie in the front. Thankfully, my backpack is between them and me, which I hope to God is hiding the black envelope that seems to have tripled in size all of a sudden. I turn a few pages over in the book, hoping to cover it up, as I stare in their direction and try to regain my composure.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I forget to make enough noise when I walk sometimes to let people know I’m coming. Librarian’s habit of silence, I’m afraid.”
“It’s okay,” I respond.
“So, you found what you need?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. Thanks.”
“Good. Well, if you need any help, I’ll be just a few aisles over putting away books.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
They nod and then walk away, presumably to put away books as they said and not to call the campus police to report me for picking up a reveal party invitation.
Shaken, I quickly put the items I came for into my backpack and place the book back on the shelf, glancing around to make sure the librarian isn’t spying on me. As I get up to leave, I have to force myself to walk slowly so that I don’t arouse suspicion, fighting the urge to run away at full speed like my brain is telling me to do.
I make it back to my dorm room cubicle without incident, collapsing on my bed as soon as I’ve removed my helmet. I realize with alarm that I’ve forgotten to remove the tape from my camera. They know people cover the cameras up for a variety of reasons, and it’s mostly tolerated. But if you keep it covered for too long, it begins to arouse suspicion. I pop back up off the bed and remove the tape, polishing the surface of the lens with a corner of my sleeve before collapsing once more onto the bed.
Being an agent of the freedom movement can be stressful.
* * * * *
Arriving at the dorm of Jerica Sims ten minutes before my scheduled timeslot, I cruise by the room to scout it out and then head into the bathroom, entering one of the stalls to wait. After covering my helmet camera and removing the instructions from my backpack, I read the passcodes over and over again, rehearsing them in my mind with my eyes closed to make sure I’ve got them memorized. I don’t want to be fumbling with a piece of paper when I’m standing in front of the door.
It’s time.
I take in a deep breath and forcefully exhale to center myself and literally blow off some of the tension I feel, then I sling my backpack over my shoulder and go to complete my mission. As I’m walking down the hall, I see two students headed towards me, and fear begins to well up inside.
What if they see me or remember my nametag?
I try to remember what the instructor told us at the meeting. Don’t worry if other people see you. Just act normal. These aren’t police officers; they’re students just like you. Students visit each other in their dorm rooms all of the time. Can you remember the last time you saw someone visiting the dorm room across the hall from your own, and who it was? Probably not. Act as normal as possible, like you’re just visiting a friend, and everything will be fine. Have a cover story just in case, something like you’re coming to study for a history test. There’s no need to panic.
I’m at the door of the room now, and I press the buzzer per my instructions, waiting to see if anyone answers it. If they do, then I pretend I rang the wrong room, and I abort.
“I think they’re both gone for class,” comes a voice from behind me. My spine stiffens, and I try to take a calming breath before turning around. The door to the room directly across the hall is open, and one of its occupants is staring right at me. Great.
“Oh. Well, that’s disappointing,” I say, attempting to sound sincere.
“Yeah. I think Ben comes back around lunch. I don’t know about Jerica.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
Without another word, they close the door to their room behind them and head off down the hall. I stare after them for several seconds to make sure they don’t turn back around, then I quickly enter the bypass code on the door keypad and enter the room, hitting the close button as quickly as I can once I’m inside.
While heading over to Jerica’s cubicle, I realize I’ve forgotten the second code. I retrieve it from my backpack, tap the numbers on the keypad, and quickly go inside. The light comes on automatically when the motion sensor picks up my presence. Some students prefer to leave the motion sensor on during the day, but it bugs me—always having to remember to turn it off at night or when I want to take a nap—so I leave mine set to manual control. I take out the invitation and deposit it on the pillow of Jerica’s un-made bed.
Just as I’m getting ready to leave, I hear the whoosh of the main dorm room door. The cubicle door auto-closed behind me, but the light is still on. I hit the switch to turn off the light and quickly step into the bathroom. If it’s Jerica, I’m toast. There’s no way I can find a decent place to hide by the dim light filtering through the viewscreen window without making a lot of noise.
Seconds tick by, and the cubicle door remains unopened. Cautiously, I make my way over to peer out the one-way viewscreen into the common area. No one appears to be in the room, but there are parts of it I can’t see. Staring at the doorway to the other cubicle, I try to remember if there was a second whoosh after the first, but I’m not sure. They could still be in the common area, for all I know.
After several more seconds, it becomes apparent that I’m not improving my chances of going undiscovered by staying where I am. At a minimum, Jerica’s roommate, Ben, will probably hear me open the cubicle door. If they aren’t already in the common room somewhere, they’ll probably just think it’s Jerica and ignore it. Then, five seconds later, I’ll be out the second door and into freedom. But if they come out of their room or they’re still in the common area. . . . I force myself not to dwell on those possibilities. I have to act. The longer I stay here, the higher my chances are of getting caught.
I feel another rush of excitement as I exit the cubicle and quickly walk to the outer door, hoping Ben doesn’t see me. Seconds later, I’m out in the hall and walking away, with no one the wiser. I can feel the sweat from my armpits, and the adrenaline pumping through me right now makes it hard not to break into a run as I head back to my dorm. But I’m giddy over the fact that I delivered the invitation without getting caught.
Back in my own room, I remove my sweat-stained shirt, grabbing a fresh one out of the closet after washing up, and then head off to my next class. I’m feeling stoked about my success and am still buzzing on adrenaline as I head out the door.
