I sent it, then stood, walking to the window. I didn’t have much of a view—mostly the side of a building and a bit of the alley. If I stuck my head out the window, I could see a sliver of the school and some of the street. Students were milling around, some undecided on where they were going.

My computer chimed.

From: Deferent.I@Mail
Subject: Re: Damaged Pillar
I already heard. Advance Guard were on the scene and let me know. Will have it fixed tomorrow. Thanks.

That would be fixed soon then. I thought the things were an eyesore, really, but people clearly felt like they were important.

I was caught up in checking recent events online when there was a knock on the door.

Gilpatrick.

“Shouldn’t you be handing out guns to kids?” I asked. “Or giving a hard-assed speech that sends them running?”

“I wish,” he said. “Can’t give them guns until later. Give me a week, we’ll see how many of them I can get rid of. Can you show your face downstairs for me, so they know who to look for?”

“Sure,” I said. “Let me get organized and I’ll be right there.”

He didn’t step out of the doorway. His arms remained folded, and he had paper in one of his hands, held where I might not notice it.

“…Actually,” he said.

“No,” I said. I gave him a stern look. “No. Don’t ‘actually’ me. Please.”

“Do you know anything about Fume Hood?”

I raised one eyebrow, keeping that stern look otherwise in place. “Fume Hood? No.”

“She apparently went by another name, a while back. Poison Apple?”

“Then I do know stuff. She went by Bad Apple,” I said. “And a few other Nom De Pommes. I know some of her story. She was controversial.”

“She’s a hero now,” he said. “She’s getting announced as one member of a new team today.”

I nodded slowly, taking that in. “That could be bad.”

“It’s looking like it will be,” Gilpatrick said. He revealed the papers. “Can you brief my seniors? Fill them in on who she is?”

“That I can do,” I said. I approached him and took the papers.

He didn’t let go of them. He opened his mouth.

“No,” I said.

“I’ve got too many new kids,” he said.

“No, Gilpatrick.”

“My hands are full. I don’t have enough seniors to manage them all. I don’t want this to be fun or even tolerable and that requires more supervision.”

I let go of the paper, backing up. “No.”

“I won’t force you,” he said. “People connected the new heroine Fume Hood to her old persona. They’re upset. Enough that they’re hiring people to kick up a fuss, and we don’t know just who or what’s going to happen.”