The kid looked up-Elijah's down-and all around as if he'd heard a voice, but apparently didn't see anything.

"h.e.l.lo down there."

The kid looked around again. "Who's there?" He looked up again.

I'm going crazy, Elijah thought.

The kid was Elijah Springfield, himself, looking lost and perplexed, wearing the same clothes and looking like he'd just had a terrible fight with someone.

"Can you see me?" Elijah asked.

The other Elijah finally looked his direction and gawked, quite startled. "How did you get up there?"

"How did you get up there?"

The kid reached up to him. "Are you real?"

Elijah sat up so he could reach down. Their hands touched.

His stomach felt like he'd just done a somersault, and he was standing on the carpeted floor, reaching up toward the ceiling where he'd been.

He was the Elijah he'd been talking to.

His stomach churned and roiled. He was sick and getting sicker. He looked around the room for a place he could throw up and lunged toward the corner in time to give a gift to the potted plant.

Elisha and Mariah, in street clothes again, took a very careful peek out the door of their dorm building. The playfield was empty now. The riot was over, the gate was closed, and things were quiet. A few kids were crossing the campus with snacks in their hands and more pop. Obviously, the toughs who had once locked up the cafeteria still had the keys to open it again.

"What are we going to do?" Mariah asked in a squeaky whisper.

"I want to search the office building for a telephone."

"But everybody said there aren't any phones."

Elisha reminded herself to be patient. "Mariah, since when is the word of anyone on this campus worth anything?"

She thought about that. "You mean they're lying?"

"What a concept, huh? Try to look casual. Here we go."

They walked casually to the library, then casually ducked behind it, then casually moved behind the office building and tried the rear door. It opened, and they found the tool room inside, full of rakes, shovels, a few axes, some hammers, some screwdrivers, sacks of fertilizer, and cans of paint. Another door led them into the main hallway.

They divided up and went from room to room, going through the desks and all the drawers, opening cabinets, moving furniture, looking under and behind things, checking for phone jacks, wires, anything. Elisha went through the office where she and her brother had their meeting with Mr. Bingham, the academy dean, and she was surprised at how empty the drawers, shelves, and cabinets were. Mr. Bingham's desk had a few blank yellow pads and two old ballpoint pens in the top drawer, and that was it. Some office. The academy bra.s.s hardly used the place.

They searched as far as the front office, but came up empty.

However, the front office had a computer just sitting there idle, with no one around.

"E-mail!" said Elisha.

She took the chair at the keyboard, then reached down under the desk, looking for the on-off switch on the computer tower. She pressed it.

The whole tower scooted backward as if it weighed nothing. She jiggled it, then tipped it, then squatted down, lifted it, and shook it. Except for a loose nut or washer rattling around inside, the tower was an empty box.

She dropped it in disgust, but also curiosity. "It's a dummy. It's a fake."

There were wires going to the mouse, the keyboard, and the wall outlet. There was even a phone jack in the wall, but no line going to it.

Mariah was looking down at her in wonder. "Doesn't it work?"

"No." Elisha was already looking around the room. There was a file cabinet, another desk with some papers and magazines stacked on top, and a copy machine. Elisha clicked on the copy machine. It worked, but it was out of toner and had no paper. She opened the desk drawers. Except for a gardening catalog and a roll of tape, the drawers were empty. The file cabinet was a hollow sh.e.l.l. "Maybe this whole office is a fake." She had to sigh out some disappointment, and then started down the hall. "Come on, let's go."

Mariah followed, a loyal sidekick. "What now?"

"We've got to find a way out of here."

"But there isn't one!"

"There you go again, believing everybody"

They circled around the back of the buildings and reached the far corner of the stone wall, hoping to find any usable route through the woods to whatever road might be back there. There were plenty of unknowns, but that was why they were looking. At this end of the wall, the forest and underbrush were thick, with no obvious trails.

"My, uh, my friend Jerry said he found kind of a trail somewhere."

"I can't go in there!" Mariah whined. "What about the bears?"

Elisha was beginning to feel like a baby-sitter. "Well, just how many bears are there per acre around here? They can't be everywhere at once."

"Everybody who's gone in these woods has seen a bear! They're all over-"

Elisha tapped her gently, shushing her. They listened.

"What is it?" Mariah whispered, afraid of everything by now.

Elisha listened a moment. From somewhere far up the hill came the buddluddluddle of a diesel engine. "It's heavy equipment, like a bulldozer."

"A bulldozer," Mariah repeated, eyes wide with wonder and fear.

Another voice made them jump. "h.e.l.lo, ladies."

It was Tom and Clay, two of Alex's Big Four, approaching from behind the buildings. Elisha could have kicked herself for not paying more attention and letting them sneak up.

But Warren was with them, gesturing for calm as he said, "It's okay. There doesn't have to be any trouble."

Elisha eyed him carefully. He'd changed out of his uniform, but at least he wasn't wearing a tie around his head. "What do you want?"

There was no malice in his face or his voice. "Alex has called a meeting in the Rec Center and everyone has to be there."

Alex. Elisha was sick to death of Alex. "Well. Alex can toot and light a match for all I care."

Tom and Clay leaned forward menacingly, but Warren intervened, holding them back with a raised hand. "I came along so we could do this politely, without anyone getting hurt." Tom and Clay relaxed-for the moment. "Listen. We should be there. Somebody has to talk some sense into this whole thing." He nodded toward Tom and Clay. "And we don't have much choice anyway. Please come."

The Rec Center had been reopened with the same keys that locked it. The kids had all gathered and were standing, sitting, kneeling, and leaning all over the lounge area next to the vending machines. Alex, sitting in his favorite spot on the end of a picnic table, was already holding forth as Elisha and Mariah, with their escorts, came into the room.

"We've got to hang together," Alex was saying. "We're the reason this whole academy is here, and if we're one big voice, then those people up in that mansion have to listen to us."

"Well, what about Mr. Stern and Mrs. Meeks?" somebody asked.

"Who?" came a joking response, and a giggle rippled through the crowd.

"Aren't they on our side?"

"They're staying out of it," said Alex. "It's just us now. We are the Voice. We are the Future."

"So who's in charge?" asked Andy, the pool shark.

"Are we gonna vote?" asked Eric, the s.p.a.ce game king.

That question brought a wave of hoots and moans. Rory leaned in threateningly and told him, "Hey, don't you have eyes? That's already decided."

Alex continued, "It's time to send a message and tell those people up there what we want."

"What message?" asked Tonya.

"What do we want?" asked Marvin.

Ideas began to float around the crowd amid cheers, and Brett took notes: more fun time, more access to the food, less homework, no homework, volleyball games that could actually be won, no restrictions on which dorms to sleep in.

"And no more uniforms!" That brought widespread agreement, although some of the girls really liked the outfits.

Warren asked, "So what about Mr. Easley? Don't we want him back?"

Alex looked puzzled. "Who?"

Warren repeated the name slowly, insistently. "Mr. Easley. Remember?"

Alex thought for an instant, then shook his head. "Never heard of him." He gazed around the group and let it be known: "n.o.body ever heard of him."

An eerie forgetfulness spread from Alex through the rest of his loyal followers-and there were many. "Who?" "Easley?" "Who's that?" "You ever heard of Easley?" "No sir, not me."

"I'm running things now," said Alex. "We don't need any help."

Warren pressed the issue-and his luck. "Wait a minute. You really think Booker and Bingham and all those people up there aren't calling the police right now? You think they aren't going to come back with the police or the sheriff or the riot squad? What makes you think they're going to put up with any of this?"

He was hooted down. "That's your truth," said Charlene, and Melinda agreed, "Yeah," and the crowd picked up the chorus.

"That'll be ten KMs, dude!" Alex shouted, and Warren, immediately surrounded by Rory and his guys, produced the coins and backed away into the crowd.

Alex pocketed the KMs proudly, and shouted, "So who's with me?" He got a rousing cheer, but several kids were holding back and he noticed. "Not good enough." His hand went to the necktie now bound around his head like a sweatband. "Okay, here's what's gonna happen. You take your tie or your scarf and you wear it like this, or wear it on your arm. You do that, it means you're with us. You don't do it ... we break your arm."

Kids started fumbling through pockets, fussing and whining, "We don't have our ties!" "I left my scarf in my room!"

"Find something and find it quick," said Alex. "No scarf or tie, no games, no fun, and no food."

"And we break your arm," said Rory.

Handkerchiefs came out. Shoelaces. Several ran back to their rooms to get a tie or scarf. One kid took off his tee shirt and started cutting and tearing it into strips for one KM apiece. The undecideds began deciding, one headband after another.

"Now you're being just like Booker," came a single voice in the crowd.

The silence, the sudden chill, began with Alex as he sat on the table staring across the room. Those near him fell silent as well, and then the kids next to them, and then the kids next to them. In less than a minute, the room was dead quiet and electric with tension.

All eyes were on Elisha, who'd made no effort to tie anything around her head or arm or anywhere else.

"I thought I heard you say something," said Alex.

Elisha looked at all the eyes staring at her and said, "You were the ones making all the fuss about the uniforms, and now you're just making up another uniform."

Alex made only a little wave of his hand, and Brett and two toughs brought Elisha into the center of the room before Alex's picnic table throne. "Where's yours?"

She looked around the room. Britney, Cher, Tonya, Marvin, Eric, Andy, Roberto, Tom Cruise . . . all the kids she'd known these few days, were now wearing something around their heads. Over in a corner, actually trying to hide behind others, Mariah, her sidekick and roommate, was wearing a rag around her head and looking at the floor.

"We're the group," said Alex, "and we've decided everybody should wear something to show unity" Then came the zinger. "You with us?"

Elisha addressed everyone around her, "You should know where this is going to lead, what it's going to turn into."

They groaned and rolled their eyes, murmuring and snickering.

"Okay," said Alex, "what about Jerry? You've got a stake in this: Those people up there have him. You join up with us, we'll put the heat on and get him back."

Cher, who used to be Britney, came forward with a spare scarf, a pretty red one. "Here, Sally. You can wear this. Come on."

Elisha took it, holding it in her hand. There was silence. Waiting.

She could still see Elijah's last look at her over his shoulder. She could remember her promise not to leave him here. She considered what he could be going through, and she almost cried.

"What's it going to be?" Alex prodded.

'Join us," said Cher.

"Come on," said Ramon. "We'll show 'em!"

'Jerry ..." She felt like a liar and a coward not using his real name. 'Jerry would have to bow to you. He'd have to say you're right, and he won't do that. And neither will I." She handed the scarf back to Cher. "Thank you."

All eyes were on Alex. Brett asked him, "So what are you going to do?"

Alex was looking through the crowd at Warren, who stood silently, out of the way, but still wore no headband. "Give her something to think about."

It took four tough guys to drag Warren out of the building and hold him while Rory and Clay brought cans of paint from the tool room. With wild yells and whoops, they threw him on the gra.s.s and doused him with the paint, throwing in some brutal kicks while they were at it. Alex made sure everyone remained in front of the Rec Center and watched, especially Elisha.