Prank Wars Page 12

“Don’t you? Oh wait, we established last night that you don’t.” He treated me to a cheesy grin.

  “I’ll never let you mess with my mind like that again.”

  “Why? Did you feel guilty?” Lord Byron pushed the sleeves of his V-neck shirt to his elbows, looking like he was ready to do battle without having to break a sweat. “Don’t tell me you were going to apologize?”

  I’d never admit that now. I swiveled away from him, staring at our physics professor. His bow tie threatened to strangle him as he outlined our assignment for the day. I fanned my sweaty face. It was way too hot in here. My little spontaneous run was catching up with me and I struggled with my hoody to get it off. It was a harder operation than I bargained for. I had absolutely no room and my arms wouldn’t come out of my sleeves. “Here, let me get that for you,” Byron offered. His hand touched my back and I felt the warmth emanating from him.

  My back arched and I did what any girl would do. I leaned back hard, trapping his hand between me and the seat. “Don’t you dare help me. I’ve got it!”

  He let out an involuntary laugh, but didn’t try to free his hand. “But Madeleine, did you forget? It’s supposed to be civil week.” Mercifully, he kept his voice to a discreet whisper.

  I twisted my lips at the sarcasm and looked straight ahead. “I don’t believe in making deals with troublemakers.”

  “Really?” Byron hesitated a moment, studying my face, as if weighing what was on his mind as too dangerous, but then plunged ahead, “I thought you found trouble as attractive as I do?” He gave me a maddening smile that landed just inches from my mouth. “You were trouble the moment I met you.”

  I felt myself blushing, probably bright red. He sounded like an evil villain off a spy movie. What was wrong with him anyway? What was wrong with me? His trapped arm was still behind me and I realized too late that it looked like we were a cozy couple. This was ridiculous. Byron didn’t find me cute or attractive or whatever arsenal of words he used at his disposal. I just couldn’t figure out what his objective was yet…until I saw Cameron’s eyes on us. As soon as I noticed, Cameron swiveled away. After our little exchange at the Doghouse, Byron couldn’t possibly think he was helping me out by making Cameron jealous, could he?

  It was worse than being stuck in the middle of a battlefield. Here we sat—my arch-nemesis and my ex fiancé—all in the same Principles of Physics class. There were plenty of physics classes to go around, but once I found out that I shared another class with Byron, I couldn’t run like a coward—though it was a temptation after our chemistry class from last semester.

  Things just got worse from there. Cameron added our class last second to fulfill the last requirements for his biology major, and I vowed to ignore them all. I struggled with my hoody. Byron didn’t bother to hide how funny he thought my dire straits were. Both arms were stuck and by now I had myself a little audience. I yanked away from Byron, releasing his hand. It freed me from my hoody at the same time. I refused to see any analogy about life in that.

  Professor Green was still talking about the electromagnetic spectrum. I couldn’t pay attention to it at all, something about radio waves and microwaves. And microwaves? Wait, I had a question about that. I raised my newly freed hand without thinking. “Yeah, about that…” I began. Doctor Green stopped teaching to stare at me.

  My gaze swept around the class of about 200, including a disdainful Cameron, and suddenly I wished I had asked the teacher after class. Byron watched me expectantly and so I had no choice but to take this all the way. “Okay.” My voice echoed in the near silent room. “This is weird, but I was holding this can and I was talking on the cell phone at the same time, and then I set the can on the microwave and the microwave went off.”

  There was a stir in the room, mostly a this-girl’s-an-idiot stir.

  “I’m totally serious,” I said a bit more loudly. “This happened to me yesterday. And then I moved the can off the microwave and the microwave stopped. Are cell phones and microwaves connected? Like with their waves or something?”

  “Maybe there was something wrong with the cord on the microwave oven.” The teacher moved to dismiss my question.

  “No!” I shouted. The professor looked startled and I took a deep breath. “It’s a really old microwave, sure…but maybe it wasn’t properly shielded or something? And…it seems like this kind of interference happens all the time with my cell phone and computers.”

  “Electro smog,” the know-it-all kid in the front offered. “The air is polluted with these kinds of frequencies. It has cancer causing microwaves that alter your DNA.”

  A few ripples of laughter rang out. Byron leaned back with an appreciative grin.

  “Her cell phone’s gonna fry her brain,” someone mumbled behind me.

  The girl next to me edged away with comical exaggeration. “Looks like it already has!” There were some snickers at this.

  “No, no, no.” Professor Green shook his head. “They are not connected at all. And there’s no solid proof that cell phones cause cance—”

  “Why do you turn off your cell phone when an airplane takes off?” I interjected stubbornly. I wanted my answer and I’d force him to give me a real one. I’d use his brain for my own purposes even if it made me look like a fool.

  “That’s different.” His voice sounded bored. “A cell phone interferes with signals on the same broadband like the radio transmissions needed for a takeoff.” He attempted to end the topic.

  “Well, my cell phone affects my computer too. Just before it rings, the speakers make weird sounds.” I knew something had interfered with that microwave and I wanted to know what.

  At least Byron was enjoying this. “You’re not going to back down, are you?” he asked me under his breath.

  Professor Green gave me a brief condescending smile. Apparently I was the new crazy girl in the class, even crazier than the guy who sat in the front and made everything a conspiracy theory. “Your cell phone can possibly interfere with other radio signals, you’re correct, though it’s extremely rare, but not with a microwave. They’re on different frequencies.” He glanced to my side. “Yes.” He called on Byron, who had raised his hand.

  I groaned inwardly. Now I was in for it. “Can’t microwaves interfere with pacemakers too,” Byron said. It wasn’t really a question.

  “It’s extremely rare, almost unheard of.”

  “So if cell phones interfere with pacemakers and so do microwave ovens then there must be some connection between the two, even if it is extremely rare and almost unheard of.” He sounded almost sarcastic. “Say they’re both on a 2.45 GHz broadband?” I stiffened in surprise. Was Byron taking my side? And how did he know how to talk this way? He was going to be a geologist.

  The professor paused to consider. “I’ve never heard of it happening,” he answered flatly.

  Byron crossed his arms. “Until now, of course.”

  “Yes, of course, she thought she saw it—but there’s more than interference with the signals, the whole microwave oven turned on. There would have to be a power surge.” The professor quickly moved on before we interrupted him again.

  Byron glanced over at me, shaking his head. “Crazy like Tesla,” he breathed.

  “Tesla?”

  “He’s a mad scientist.” Great, now Byron was comparing me to mad scientists. I raised my brow at him and he took that as a cue to fill my mind with more nonsense. “He wanted to harness the energy from the air and transmit it from one source to another through waves. No more batteries, no more cords. No more filling up your gas tank. You’d just have one utility bill to pay a month.”

  “What happened to him?”

  Byron shrugged. “He died crazy and broke, but he was a genius. If someone had funded his efforts, we’d have had wireless communication almost a century ago…along with wireless energy.” And we’d all be dead of some sort of cancerous side effect, I supposed. “What was in the can that you set on the microwave?” Byron asked casually.

&nb
sp; “I don’t know. There wasn’t a label on it.” Tory had pulled it off.

  Byron had a huge smile on his face. “This happened at our place, didn’t it?”

  Before I could stop myself, I smiled back. “What happened to Tesla’s notes when he died?”

  He looked surprised that I was still on this. “He had a photographic memory, so most of it died with him.”

  I stared at Byron, seeing him with new eyes. “You’re a nerd,” I said with some awe.

  He broke into a laugh, and the professor gave us a warning look, but at least we weren’t asking him any more questions. “Tesla had a few notes that our government and a few others fought over, most of what he wrote down was taken, never to be seen again.”

  I leaned back, thinking about what Byron had said. If only a man could talk from the dead. What message would he send us? What if Tesla was right and we could harness a bolt of lightning or change the frequencies in the air? What if it were as easy as pointing it at a microwave oven and turning it on?

  “The world is an amazing place,” Byron whispered. “If you can imagine it…it can happen.”

  But only if you had the brains and the will, I decided. There were two different scientists, I realized as I stared at our professor, ones who said it couldn’t be done and others who asked what if. They both knew the rules, but only a few knew how to break them…or tried. I was supposed to be taking notes, but I found myself writing something completely different into my war journal: Anything is possible. We just have to find out a way to do it. Look at our bodies. If we could get a machine to work similarly…we could be like gods. At least create like one. If we weren’t tied down by rules—except no! Rules set us free. Like the kite analogy, the string tied it down to make it fly. So, if we could just figure out how to use the rules, we could fly. I wrote this down like they were my last words. My stomach rumbled and I pulled a Twinkie from my backpack to keep my strength up.

  “What are you writing?” I jumped. Byron looked over my shoulder at my war journal. “Is that encrypted?” There was laughter behind his words when he tried to study my chicken scratches.

  I tried to shame him back. “You know, you shouldn’t sit so close. I might get ideas that you like me.”

  Apparently Byron had no shame because he didn’t back off. “What? You afraid I’ll break the code? Don’t worry. I already know what you’re thinking. You’re easy to read.” I scowled at that and he grinned in response. “Don’t take it like that. You’re hard to pronounce.”

  I was impressed. It actually made sense. “Touché,” I muttered begrudgingly.

  The lights faded and one of the many TAs for our class turned on the PowerPoint presentation about the electromagnetic spectrum. From this distance, I could see she was a small girl with dark hair.

  Byron leaned over me. “Hey, did you bring your book?”

  “Are you kidding?” I turned from the TA. “That thing weighs a million-and-two tons and I had to run the whole way here.”

  He sighed and turned to the front. Professor Green pointed out the different wavelength frequencies: gamma rays, x-rays, ultraviolet rays all the way to microwave and radio waves.

  “Question.” I raised my hand again, thinking about Tesla. “Back to cell phones. Can we transmit energy through the air using frequencies similar to cell phones?”

  Our teacher froze at the board. I wondered if I overdid it this time. He took a moment to answer, “That’s exactly what cell phones do.” It was as if he were explaining this to a child. “They use very specific energy with signals that our appliances can decode, but only the military can transmit tremendously powerful signals. Most low power applications are used only for communications purposes.” Then Tesla was right; transmitting energy could be done. I smiled. “If we focus any of the energy we are using into a small enough area,” he finished, “it can and will do devastating damage.”

  Now he had done it. My mind went into overload just thinking about what kind of damage it could do. “Cell phone companies can find anyone with a cell phone,” I thought aloud. “Just dial a number and the military tracks us. Increase the signal power and they’ll kill us.” Byron looked surprised. The class started to murmur. There were quite a few laughs. A few diehard students left angrily, the door clicking solidly behind them.

  The professor gawked at me. He cleared his throat. “If you want to get paranoid, sure, bad guys can get you…if your cell phone is on. Maybe you all should get the hint and turn your cell phones off.” It seemed the professor finally had one over on me. He looked quite smug about it.

  The look on Byron’s face almost made me stop talking. For once he wasn’t laughing. No, he had turned quite serious. I tried to ignore that. “What about the towers next to my apartment?” They were tall ugly things made of white brick marring the sky west of our apartments. Signals could be sent from there. “Are those cell phone towers?”

  The professor looked confused for a moment. “Are you talking about the utility towers? Yes, cell phone companies pay them to put their satellite dishes up there.”

  “What does provocity mean?” a girl asked directly behind me. Her voice was high-pitched and nervous. Professor Green looked even blanker than when I had asked him a question. “You know,” she desperately tried to clarify before she looked as stupid as me, “that word that’s written on those towers?”

  The class shifted to look at me, but for once I was innocent. Cameron’s eyes were especially condescending. Before I could point out the true identity of our latest scholar, Professor Green answered the question in a long suffering voice. “That would be Provo City, not provocity. Any other questions, class, or can we go on?” The girl’s seat squeaked as she slunk down into it. It didn’t matter if she hid. Everyone was looking at me.

  Byron elbowed me. “It’s the city we live in, haven’t you heard of it, Mad?” he asked way too loud. He knew very well that I hadn’t asked that. “Hey, but keep bugging the teacher about it,” he teased more softly this time. “I’m sure he’ll admit it’s provocity just to get you off his back.” He pronounced provocity the same way the girl behind us said it, completely wrong…and with a touch of that accent again.

  “Well, it sounds more off with your weird accent,” I said. He looked confused, but I wouldn’t let him throw me off this time. “Where does it come from? You’re not with the KGB, are you?”

  He ignored the taunt. “What sort of accent is it? Southern?”

  I don’t know. It sounded really hot…like he belonged to the Flight of the Conchords or something. Yeah, that’s how I recognized it. “Did you serve a mission in New Zealand?”

  “Nope.” He watched the TA. The small girl had left her spot at the computer to pass out our assignments. She wore brightly colored pumps with a Prada buckle. Her long black hair swung behind her. It was just like Byron to check out another girl while sitting next to me. It made me recall the existence of Holly.

  “Hey, what were you doing outside my apartment last night?” I asked.

  He chuckled, most likely remembering how much I stunk. “Why were you running out of your neighbor’s so fast?”

  “We found out someone lived there.”

  He shifted like he wanted to say something, but stayed quiet.

  “What?”

  His playful nature took over. “Yeah, someone does live there. She’s—” He hesitated, watching me.

  “—hot,” I finished for him. I glared and turned away. Forget the ward directory, we should’ve asked the lady’s man who the mystery girl was instead. “So, who is she?”

  The TA leaned over the girl next to me, counting out the papers for our row. My head tilted when she got closer. Wait. She looked vaguely familiar. Before I could figure it out, Byron leaned heavily over me, cutting off my line of vision and reaching past my startled neighbor. He grabbed the papers from the TA, his broad shoulder knocking into my face. The brunette next to me could have reached it much easier. Why was he bothering being such gentleman? It wa
s completely unnecessary. The papers flicked me across my hair, messing it up even more. I hit Byron back and he smiled mockingly in my face. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll wash my hands.”

  Byron supplied me and the girl next to me our papers, keeping one for himself. My little brunette neighbor didn’t mind that her personal space had been trespassed at all. She beamed brightly at him. A faint dimple appeared on Byron’s cheek in response as he passed the rest of the papers down the row. I finally guessed his motives. “It’s always about the ladies, isn’t it, Byron. How can you live with yourself? You player!”

  “Thanks?”

  No way would I sit with him in physics again. The papers ran out at the end of the row and the hands started to rise. Professor Green turned to his TA, giving her a nod. “Thanh.” My head shot up as he indicated the rest of the papers on his desk. “I have more copies over here.”

  Thanh? I twisted in my seat. Could that be our beautiful Asian neighbor, minus the lollipop? Yes, the TA was definitely her, well, the clearer version of her than the perfume clouded portrait of her from the night before. “Byron.” I dug my fingers into his arm and he flinched. “That’s her. That’s my neighbor!”

  He was watching me warily and I considered elbowing him in the ribs to take me seriously, but I resisted. What did he think I was going to do, attack her for having the audacity to live next door to me? I wasn’t that much of a threat—until I realized what his problem was. “Hey! Was she one of the TAs in our chem 111 class too?”

  Byron looked resigned. “No.”

  He was lying. She was the same girl Byron had been flirting with on April Fool’s Day. I bet she had an amazing brain and she was beautiful, probably really demure too. I tried not to be jealous. “Did you ask her out?”

  This time his smile seemed more genuine. “Nope.”

  I lifted an eyebrow at him. Now I knew he was lying.

  Chapter Twelve

  Day 107

  0854 hours