I type “VENIFY” first and hit Enter.

NO INTERNET CONNECTION AT THIS LOCATION.

Ugh. In my excitement, I forgot that the school turns off all wireless connections on final-exam days.

The letters on the paper haunt me as I hunch over my tablet for my composition test.

Thankfully, after English, my last final for this year is art, which means all I have left is to answer a few questions about the importance of celebrating American culture through realistic artistic expression, which I do in a matter of minutes. I hit Complete on my work and now I have nothing to do for the next hour.

I think about the page tucked deep inside my bag. I could wait until I go home to look for information on the strange name or . . .

I raise my hand and wait for Mrs. Rudoren to notice me and wave me toward her desk.

“Are you having trouble with your final?” she asks.

“I’m finished, but I’m not feeling well,” I say, putting a hand on my stomach. “Can I get a pass to visit the nurse? I think I just need to lie down for a few minutes.”

“You know, I thought you looked pale,” Mrs. Rudoren says, opening her desk drawer to pull out a small blue-framed e-memo screen. “Why don’t you take your backpack and tablet with you just in case he keeps you for the rest of the period. I can get the pass back from Mr. Hayes after school is over.” She glances at her watch, uses her stylus to key in the information, then hands the pass to me. “If I don’t see you before the end of the day, have a great summer, Merriel.”

I thank her and collect my stuff on the way to the door. As soon as I am out of Mrs. Rudoren’s sight, I hurry down the empty hall, past rooms filled with students hunched over tablets or staring off into space. Quickly, I head not to the nurse but to the Technology and Research Center to use one of the research computers.

On test days, the technology specialists are typically running from classroom to classroom helping fix tablet connections or making sure exams download properly. Today is no different. As I had hoped, the center is completely empty when I slip inside.

I hear a humming sound coming from the office in the back. Someone could be in there, but the blue door is closed and this won’t take more than a few seconds. I can be gone before whoever is in the office notices I am here.

I cross to a computer that’s behind a large blue-and-white column, out of the sight line of the office.

Heart pounding, I click on the Search bar and enter the word “VENIFY.”

THERE IS NO ENTRY FOR THIS QUERY.

The humming in the office grows louder. I shift the bag on my shoulder, hit New Search, and try the other combination of letters: “VERIFY.”