The Academy by Ridley Pearson Read Free Book Online Page B

questions.”
    The muted sounds of a door opening and shutting came next. At the same time Steel heard Benny the Bulb enter the building through a nearby door.
    Steel’s fingers were bloodless and about to fall off.
    The light went off behind him. He heard the click of the classroom door.
    He tugged and pulled himself up and out, the soles of his shoes slippery on the concrete. At last he was lying in the grass, panting. He’d broken out into a full sweat.
    Two figures crossed the breezeway, heading from the administration building to the dorm—he was willing to bet it was the upperclassman and the other student who’d just been talking to the teacher with the British accent. He lifted his head, trying to get a good look at their faces, but failed to identify them.
    He had to hurry: Benny the Bulb wouldn’t be far behind them.
    He scrambled to the breezeway, climbed through one of the open-air windows created by the arches, and dropped down. He hurried for the stairs.
    “Who goes there?” The British voice was immediately behind him.
    Where had he come from?
    Steel had the choice of staying and being caught in a curfew violation, or taking off. Leaping three stairs at a time, he reached the lower level at a full run.
    “Hey, there!” the British man said. He cried out sharply for Steel to stop.
    Steel hugged the backside of the lower level dorms, racing for the doorway to Lower Three, ducking beneath one dorm room window after another. He looked left: no one was currently coming from the gym.
    But was the teacher following him?
    He ducked through the door, flew up three stairs and turned right, entering Lower Three. Several boys were walking the hall in nothing but towels. He knew two of them, though not by name.
    He reached his room just as he heard the hallway door open… The teacher with the British accent? he wondered.
    Coming into his room, Steel pivoted immediately and eased the door shut.
    He slowly turned around, short of breath and sweating profusely.
    Sitting up in bed with a paralyzed look, Verne opened his eyes widely and looked left.
    And there, in Steel’s desk chair, was a man in a coat and tie, dark trousers, and polished black shoes.
    “Mr. Trapp, is it?” asked the man—a teacher, familiar by face—turning his wrist to mark the time.

The man had a pinched face, tightly set blazing blue eyes, a high forehead, and a stubble of short cropped hair, absolutely flat on top. He possessed a look of fierce intensity, his mouth too small to have ever smiled.
    Steel stood stone still. A bead of sweat dripped into and stung one eye. He reached up and rubbed it, making it worse, then dragged the sleeve of his school blazer across his face, mopping up.
    “Do you happen to know what time it is, Mr. Trapp?” The man’s voice was somewhat hoarse, but not lacking in authority.
    “Five of ten, sir,” Steel said.
    The man on the bed pointed to a desktop clock radio belonging to Steel’s roommate. 10:55, the display read.
    Steel glanced at his watch. “But…”
    “Step over here,” the man instructed.
    Steel did as he was told.
    The man reached out and took Steel by the wrist. As he started to twist Steel’s arm, Steel thought he intended to hurt him—but it was only to get a better look at his wristwatch. Noting the time on Steel’s watch: 9:56, he said, “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, although it is beyond me how, with the incorrect time on your watch, you could make dinner or classes, and yet fail to meet curfew.” He looked directly at Steel, his eyes like lasers. “Nice try, Mr. Trapp. An A for effort. But I wouldn’t try it again.”
    Steel knew better than to attempt to talk back to a teacher. He kept his mouth shut, wondering what this guy wanted with him. It should have been his dorm master, Mr. Roare, checking up on curfew. Now that his anxiety had lessened, his memory kicked in and he recalled everything about this man from the Third Form Handbook, An Introduction