Someone who is inextricably linked to the future. Someone who might serve as a mentor to the person who will grow up to invent the virus.

Someone exactly like Charlie.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

The next morning, buckets of water, soapsuds, and big yellow sponges are strewn across the school’s parking lot. A girl in a bikini top and white shorts washes the roof of a car while her friend aims a hose at the fender. Two guys attack a newly washed sedan with clean towels, leaving their unfortunate friend scrubbing at a bird poop stain.

Silver Oak Academy might be populated with STEM geniuses, but they sure know how to host a car wash.

I rub my temples. I barely slept last night, the events of the banquet looping through my mind. By four a.m. and the forty-fifth iteration, I was utterly convinced: Charlie is my target. He is the man I have to kill.

Now, the only question is: how?

I haven’t quite figured that out yet, but it’s pretty clear that my access to Charlie has to be through Bandit. It all fits. That must be why the Voice threw the blue-haired boy in my path, only to order me to keep him at arm’s length. He is a stepping-stone, a means to an end—but nothing more.

I still don’t know which of my classmates has a crush on Lalana. I still don’t know who invents the virus…but maybe that doesn’t matter. If I eliminate the mentor, then I stop the Maker. Right?

That’s my working theory, anyhow.

Now, I just need to “accidentally” bump into Bandit, and the fundraiser is my best bet. As president of the junior class, he’s always at these events.

Zeke trots up to Archie and me as soon as we arrive. “Wow. You’re here.”

“Only because Alice bribed me,” Archie grumbles. The sky is a cloudless blue, the sun warm and invigorating on my neck. My brother’s back in his khaki shorts and T-shirt, but he’s acting like I’ve dragged him to a deep, dark cave rather than a fun outdoor activity.

“How?” Zeke asks. “Did she promise not to cook anymore?”

“Close,” my brother says, so casually that I can tell he doesn’t want Zeke to guess the actual truth: that he capitulated only after I reminded him that I was accompanying him to the tux shop later this week. “She said I could choose the car’s music for the rest of spring break.”

Ah, so that’s the story he wants to tell. I can play along. Especially since I snuck a handgun from Mom’s cabinet into the glove compartment without him knowing.