“Wow, cool,” says Zora. But all I can think about is: What if he’s planning to announce the update rollout at the convention?

Zora nudges me, and I remember myself. Nathan doesn’t know the real reason we’re here. So, it would be weird of me not to be excited about this too.

“Oh, uh, that’s awesome,” I say, scrambling to make up ground.

Nathan’s eyes bore into mine, but thankfully we’re saved by a familiar voice.

“You’re here!” squeals Ashley. I look up to see the whole team gathered at the railing of a mezzanine balcony above our heads. I grin widely at the sight of them.

Tobias is the first one down the stairs. He rushes over and pulls me into a big hug. “Sorry we weren’t here to meet you,” he says, casting a sidelong glance over to his brother. “I set up an alert to notify me when you arrived.”

Even though he spoke in a low voice, so only I could hear him, his brother picks up on it. “Oh yeah, about that. I thought you would be too busy showing your other friends around, so I rerouted the alert to come to Shasta here.”

Tobias glares, and I swallow hard. Even though what Nathan has mentioned sounds like such a small thing, it would actually be quite a big deal to hack into the notifications system and switch the permissions around. I’m torn between being impressed and weirded out. Why does he care so much about being first at the door to meet us?

“Well, I’ll leave you kids to it,” Nathan says. “Nice to meet you both.” He winks at Zora (who turns into a puddle on the cottage lobby floor) then clicks his fingers at his baku, who turns on a dime and follows him out the door.

The tension in the air finally releases when Nathan is gone, and it feels like the first time I’ve been able to breathe. I look at Tobias, and he can tell I have a million questions.

“Not here,” he says, answering my first unasked question. “Follow me upstairs.”

Without any further delays, we head up to the mezzanine. After a quick round of hellos, it’s all battle stations. Zora and I barely have time to gasp at the beautiful interior before we’re ushered into a room that seemingly has no windows at all. “This is our media room,” says Tobias. Now it begins to make sense—there’s a row of comfy sofas and a large blank wall at one end—probably the screen for a projector. “It’s totally soundproof, and we can get alerts if anyone is approaching. There’s no way that we’ll be overheard in here.”

“Good,” I say. “So what’s this about the convention?”