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yesterday.”
    “Um-hmmm,” Father Dominic said. The GameBoy beeped.
    “So, I guess we should keep an eye out for them. Jesse told me —” Father Dominic knew about Jesse, although their relationship was not, shall we say, the closest: Father D. had a real big problem with the fact that there was, basically, a boy living in my bedroom. He’d had a private chat with Jesse, but although he had come away from it somewhat reassured — doubtless about the fact that Jesse obviously hadn’t the slightest interest in me, amorously speaking — he still grew noticeably uncomfortable whenever Jesse’s name came up, so I tried to mention it only when I absolutely had to. Now, I figured, was one of those times.
    “Jesse told me he felt a great, um, stirring out there.” I put down the paper and pointed up, for want of a better direction. “An angry one. Apparently, we have some unhappy campers somewhere. He said they’re looking for someone. At first I figured he couldn’t mean these guys” — I tapped the paper — “because all they seemed to be looking for was beer. But it’s possible they have another agenda.”
A more murderous one,
I thought, but didn’t say it out loud.
    But Father Dom, as he often did, seemed to read my thoughts.
    “Good heavens, Susannah,” he said, looking up from the GameBoy screen. “You can’t be thinking that these young people you saw and the stirring Jesse felt have anything to do with one another, can you? Because I must say, I find that highly unlikely. From what I understand, the Angels were just that…true beacons in their community.”
    Jeez. Beacons. I wondered if there was anybody who’d ever refer to
me
as a beacon after I was dead. I highly doubted it. Not even my mother would go that far.
    I kept my feelings to myself, however. I knew from experience that Father D. wasn’t going to like what I was thinking, let alone believe it. Instead, I said, “Well, just keep your eyes open, will you? Let me know if you see them around. The, er, Angels, I mean.”
    “Of course.” Father Dom shook his head. “What a tragedy. Poor souls. So innocent. So young. Oh. Oh, my.” He sheepishly held up the GameBoy. “High score.”
    That’s when I decided I’d spent quite enough time in the principal’s office for one day. Gina, who attended my old school back in Brooklyn, had a different spring break than the Mission Academy’s, so while she was getting to spend her vacation in California, she had to endure a few days following me around from class to class — at least until I could figure out a way for us to ditch without getting caught. Gina was back in world civ with Mr. Walden, and I hadn’t any doubt that she was getting into all sorts of trouble while I was gone.
    “All righty then,” I said, getting up. “Let me know if you hear anything more about those kids.”
    “Yes, yes,” Father Dominic said, his attention riveted to the GameBoy once again. “Bye for now.”
    As I left his office, I could have sworn I heard him say a bad word after the GameBoy let out a warning beep. But that would have been so unlike him, I must have heard wrong.
    Yeah. Right.

Chapter
Four
     
     
    When I got back to world civ, Kelly Prescott, my friend Adam McTavish, Rob Kelleher — one of the class jocks, and a good buddy of Dopey’s — and this quiet kid whose name I could never remember were just finishing up their presentation on the Nuclear Arms Race: Who Will Come in First?
    It was a bogus assignment, if you asked me. I mean, with the fall of communism in Russia, who even cared?
    I guess that was the point. We
should
care. Because as the charts Kelly’s group was holding up revealed, there were some countries that had way more bombs and stuff than we did.
    “Okay,” Kelly was saying, as I came in and laid my hall pass on Mr. Walden’s desk before going to my seat. “Like, as you can see, the U.S. is pretty well-stocked with missiles, and stuff, but as far as tanks, the Chinese