The Academy by Ridley Pearson Read Free Book Online Page A

hoses, stripping them naked and making them run to their rooms across the junior varsity soccer field—right in front of one of the girls’ dorms.
    All because if a Third or Fourth Form student was caught violating curfew, they impacted the liberties and freedoms of the upperclassmen. In this way, the school had created a polarized environment where the older students monitored the younger students, if for no other reason than to protect their rights to a later curfew.
    Given the uniform of coat and tie, most of the guys looked alike from a distance. It was only Steel’s height and boyish face that might have given him away as a younger student. The secret, Steel thought, was to stand as tall as possible, and to walk with confidence.
    Above all, he could not allow himself to be caught. He spotted a shortcut. He could climb into the breezeway and cut through to the lower dorms, avoiding the administration building altogether.
    He stayed in shadows, heading for the breezeway. Halfway there, he heard voices and stopped short. Looked around again. Still no one…then he placed the voices. They were coming from his left, from one of the basement classrooms in the administration building. These windows—there were eight in all—were below the level of the grass, in dug-out bays.
    He might have continued on—the breezeway was so close now—but he recognized one of the voices, knew without any doubt it was the same voice he’d just heard in the chapel—the same upperclassman.
    What was he doing over here?
    Remaining in shadow, he moved toward the concrete semicircle dug down into the ground, which contained the glowing window from a basement classroom. Dropping to his knees, he crawled the final few feet.
    The window shade was drawn three quarters of the way down, the window open a gap. Steel had a view of six pant legs and three pairs of shoes, and three silhouettes were projected onto the shade like shadow puppets. Of the three, one was considerably taller than the other two; this person wore proper trousers and shined shoes—a teacher. The other two wore blue jeans and leather boat shoes.
    “The problem is… identification ,” said a deep voice in a British accent.
    Steel knew of two teachers with British accents: a math teacher named Randolph and a chemistry teacher known to the kids as Munch.
    “But if it’s true…” said the voice of the upperclassman from the chapel. He said something else, but Steel missed it. Only his final words, “…all in trouble,” came through distinctly.
    Trouble?
    “Agreed,” said the British accent.
    “And how…find…?” said the third person. His voice was younger. Steel desperately wanted to determine who he was. He edged slightly closer, his hands now touching the curving concrete wall that formed the window well.
    Movement flashed in the corner of his eye, and he pivoted his head slowly to look in that direction.
    Benny the Bulb, the JV football coach, was walking toward him. Instinctively, Steel slipped over the edge of the concrete retaining wall, hanging by his fingers, his back facing the window.
    “What was that?” came the British accent from behind him, the words clear. “Have a look.”
    Steel pressed his cheek to the cool concrete—it smelled like chalk—and remained stone still. Light flooded the dugout as someone peered out the side of the shade. Steel held his breath.
    The light reduced as the shade was released. Whoever had peered out had looked right past him. Steel took it as a sign: he was not to be caught.
    “Benny the…It’s Mr. Morgan, sir, doing his rounds,” said the upperclassman’s voice.
    “We can’t be seen together,” said the British accent. “Not this time of night. Too much explanation required. Remember what I said.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Vigilance!”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “It’s paramount this be resolved in a timely fashion. Immediately, if not sooner.”
    “Understood.”
    “Go then. And hurry. We don’t need Ben asking