as he grinned. “Still shaky after your SACSAs, huh? I get it. I was too. But you’ve got nothing to worry about from me.” He extended a friendly hand. “Chip Schacter. Nice to meet you.”
I shook it, pleased to finally meet someone friendly. “Ben Ripley. But I guess you knew that already.”
Chip laughed. “Yeah. Every student gets full dossiers on all the new meat. Yours was better than most, though.”
“It was?”
“Absolutely. Especially those cryptography scores.” Chip whistled appreciatively. “I haven’t seen cryptos like that since Chandra Shiksavelli . . . and she went right from here to being a Level 6 at the NSA.”
“Wow,” I said, trying to seem nonchalant, although I was secretly thrilled. I still wasn’t sure how I could be so skilled at cryptography and not know it, but it was nice to finally have some good news. For the first time since I’d arrived at spy school, I actually felt like I might belong there.
“Anyhow,” Chip went on, “your first days here can be pretty rough. I figured you could use a friend.”
“I could,” I admitted. “Thanks.”
“I’ll take you around, show you the ropes, introduce you to the right people. In a few days you’ll have this whole place wired. And all I ask for in return is a little favor.”
“That’d be great,” I said . . . and then caught myself. “What favor?”
Chip glanced out the door, as though to make sure no one was within earshot, then shut and locked it. “Nothing much. Just a little harmless computer hacking. The kind of thing friends do for each other all the time.”
Any enthusiasm I’d had seeped out of me like air from a punctured balloon. “Uh . . . I’m not so good at hacking.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can walk you through the tougheststuff. But there’s a rotating sixteen-character daisy-chain password protecting the firewall. I can’t crack it, but it ought to be a piece of cake for someone with your mad skills.” Chip patted me on the shoulder proudly, trying to bolster my ego.
The sad thing is, it sort of worked. I already knew this guy was trouble, and yet, somehow, I still wanted his approval. “What computer would this be?”
“Just the school’s mainframe. There’s some classified information I need to get off it for a class.”
“What kind of information?”
Chip’s face clouded. “What’s with all the questions? I’m trying to be a friend here, and you’re giving me the third degree.”
“Sorry, but . . . I just got here. I don’t want to do something that’s going to get me in trouble.”
“You know what’ll really get you in trouble? Making me an enemy rather than a friend. ’Cause I can be a real good friend . . . or a real bad enemy.” Chip’s muscles tensed, straining the seams of his sports coat.
I gulped. This was unbelievable. At regular school there was one thing I’d been exceptionally good at: avoiding bullies. (The trick was to blend into the crowd and let them pick out prey more obvious than you.) But now I hadn’t even made it to my first meal at spy school before one set his sights on me.
Worse, Chip Schacter wasn’t like a public school bully.Those guys were mostly out to cause you embarrassment rather than pain; the worst they might do was yank down your pants while the cheerleading squad was passing. There was something far more menacing about Chip. He was obviously after much more than my lunch money—and the penalty for standing up to him appeared to be pain.
“I don’t want to be your enemy,” I said, backing up as far as I could in my tiny room.
Chip’s muscles relaxed. He flashed a disingenuous smile. “Good to hear. Let’s get to it.” He ushered me toward the door.
I stayed put. “You want to do this now ? I haven’t even unpacked.”
“Exactly. No one would ever expect you to do something like this yet. Plus, everyone will be in the dining hall. Dinner starts in five.”
“Just out of interest . . . is what we’re doing
I shook it, pleased to finally meet someone friendly. “Ben Ripley. But I guess you knew that already.”
Chip laughed. “Yeah. Every student gets full dossiers on all the new meat. Yours was better than most, though.”
“It was?”
“Absolutely. Especially those cryptography scores.” Chip whistled appreciatively. “I haven’t seen cryptos like that since Chandra Shiksavelli . . . and she went right from here to being a Level 6 at the NSA.”
“Wow,” I said, trying to seem nonchalant, although I was secretly thrilled. I still wasn’t sure how I could be so skilled at cryptography and not know it, but it was nice to finally have some good news. For the first time since I’d arrived at spy school, I actually felt like I might belong there.
“Anyhow,” Chip went on, “your first days here can be pretty rough. I figured you could use a friend.”
“I could,” I admitted. “Thanks.”
“I’ll take you around, show you the ropes, introduce you to the right people. In a few days you’ll have this whole place wired. And all I ask for in return is a little favor.”
“That’d be great,” I said . . . and then caught myself. “What favor?”
Chip glanced out the door, as though to make sure no one was within earshot, then shut and locked it. “Nothing much. Just a little harmless computer hacking. The kind of thing friends do for each other all the time.”
Any enthusiasm I’d had seeped out of me like air from a punctured balloon. “Uh . . . I’m not so good at hacking.”
“Doesn’t matter. I can walk you through the tougheststuff. But there’s a rotating sixteen-character daisy-chain password protecting the firewall. I can’t crack it, but it ought to be a piece of cake for someone with your mad skills.” Chip patted me on the shoulder proudly, trying to bolster my ego.
The sad thing is, it sort of worked. I already knew this guy was trouble, and yet, somehow, I still wanted his approval. “What computer would this be?”
“Just the school’s mainframe. There’s some classified information I need to get off it for a class.”
“What kind of information?”
Chip’s face clouded. “What’s with all the questions? I’m trying to be a friend here, and you’re giving me the third degree.”
“Sorry, but . . . I just got here. I don’t want to do something that’s going to get me in trouble.”
“You know what’ll really get you in trouble? Making me an enemy rather than a friend. ’Cause I can be a real good friend . . . or a real bad enemy.” Chip’s muscles tensed, straining the seams of his sports coat.
I gulped. This was unbelievable. At regular school there was one thing I’d been exceptionally good at: avoiding bullies. (The trick was to blend into the crowd and let them pick out prey more obvious than you.) But now I hadn’t even made it to my first meal at spy school before one set his sights on me.
Worse, Chip Schacter wasn’t like a public school bully.Those guys were mostly out to cause you embarrassment rather than pain; the worst they might do was yank down your pants while the cheerleading squad was passing. There was something far more menacing about Chip. He was obviously after much more than my lunch money—and the penalty for standing up to him appeared to be pain.
“I don’t want to be your enemy,” I said, backing up as far as I could in my tiny room.
Chip’s muscles relaxed. He flashed a disingenuous smile. “Good to hear. Let’s get to it.” He ushered me toward the door.
I stayed put. “You want to do this now ? I haven’t even unpacked.”
“Exactly. No one would ever expect you to do something like this yet. Plus, everyone will be in the dining hall. Dinner starts in five.”
“Just out of interest . . . is what we’re doing
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