Chapter Five
An Original Theory
“What’s going on?” Keisha demanded, cornering me in the magazine publication office later that afternoon.
Great. Mr. Myers thought I was crazy and, between my sticky note and my hang-up on her phone call, my overly-ambitious assistant editor was ticked off at me. As if losing my aliens story wasn’t enough. . .
“What in the world is that?” Keisha asked, pointing to the monitor, where the latest installment of Foster’s adventures was displayed.
“Tell us where you left ‘im!” Wiggins cried, shaking his fist in Foster’s face. “If Mr. Holmes comes to any ‘arm ‘cuz of you,
I’ll—”
Foster shook his head vigorously. “If you’d only listen!”
“We’ve ‘eard enough!” said Wiggins menacingly.
Keisha raised an eyebrow. “Zach, I never knew you were such a Sherlock Holmes fan.”
I opened my mouth, then shut it. Instead, I handed her last night’s printout of Foster leading Holmes to the dock. “What do you think of this?”
She skimmed a few pages, then tossed the manuscript aside, shaking her head and obviously trying not to smile but failing miserably. “I know I’m a better writer than you, but I thought you had some originality at least. This is so…”
“Derivative?” I finished for her. I thought of my aliens kidnapping homeless families and Bryan’s determination to save his friend. “I’ve got originality, all right. I didn’t write that story you just tossed aside so cavalierly.” I pointed to the monitor. “I didn’t write that, either.”
“You’ve lost me,” Keisha said, studying the computer. “Did somebody write it before you got here?”
I shook my head. “Somebody took a story I was working on, erased it, and replaced it with this. See? It’s my file name, but you find me an alien in it.”
Keisha considered this. “You’ve got to tell Mr. Myers. This would have to be someone who had serious issues with you - I’m talking real problems.”
“You mean you believe me?” I asked, stunned.
She didn’t even smirk at me. “You’re original,” she said, “but not that original.”
“Thanks.” After a moment, I said, “I did try to tell Mr. Myers. He thinks I’m crazy.”
Keisha said, “You’re a lot of things, Zach, but you’re not crazy.” Then she asked, “Do you want me to talk to him? It looks like somebody’s out to get you, but I can’t think who.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” I told her. “But the only person I could think of was you.”
I probably shouldn’t have admitted that to her.
“Thanks a lot,” she said. “I’m out of here.” She grabbed her bookbag and spun around.
“No, wait!” I shivered, remembering the night before. I really didn’t want to deal with this alone unless I absolutely had to. And there had to be some way to make Keisha believe me. She was a writer, after all. “Please, Keisha.”
She glanced at me over her shoulder, eyes narrowed. “You know, someone other than me could have gotten into this room and written it,” she pointed out. “This school’s got more hackers than a software convention. That’s another reason I don’t like computers.”
I shook my head. “I wondered if it could be a hacker. But whoever did it had to get into my house, too. Mom won’t spring for a broadband internet connection at home when I can go online here, so there’s no way a hacker could have gotten in there, short of breaking into my house. See, I was working on a story at home, before dinner. When I came back, Foster was on the screen instead.”
Keisha frowned. “Then who could it be?”
I swallowed and tried to keep my voice steady. In this brightly lit classroom, my theory sounded totally ridiculous. “The only other person I could think of was Dave Warren.”
– End Chapter Five –
