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stink.”
    “I second that,” Ostin said. “Who eats anchovies on pizza?”
    “Only about a billion Italians,” Wade replied. “And they’re the ones who invented pizza, so they should know how to eat them.”
    Getting a history lesson from Wade, especially about food, was more than Ostin could stomach. “In the first place,” Ostin said, standing, “no one knows who invented pizza. In the sixth century, Persian soldiers baked bread flat on their shields and covered it with cheese and dates. So you could argue that they did. Secondly, there are not a billion Italians in the world, not even a hundred million. In Italy there are—”
    “Agh!” Wade shouted. “Will someone shove something into his mouth to shut him up?”
    “Pizza would do nicely,” Ostin said. “Without anchovies.”
    “Just get a bunch of different kinds,” I said to Jack. “There are ten of us. How about three large?”
    “I’ll get some drinks, too,” Jack said. “Everyone’s good with cola?”
    “I want lemonade,” Taylor said.
    “Me too,” said Abigail.
    “Diet cola,” McKenna said.
    “Write that down,” Jack said to Wade.
    Wade looked around. “With what?”
    “Then remember it,” Jack said. “All right, I’ll be back. But not too soon. I need to test out the Hummer.”
    “Can I come?” Abigail asked.
    Jack looked pleasantly surprised. “Sure.”
    “Thanks.”
    Taylor looked at me and grinned. Jack had told us earlier that he thought Abigail was hot.
    “Wade,” Jack said, “you don’t need to come anymore.”
    “What?”
    “Abi and I can handle it. Just chill here with everyone else.”
    “He can come,” Abigail said.
    “No,” Jack said. “He doesn’t want to.” He looked at Wade with a threatening glare. “Do you?”
    Wade frowned. “Nah, I’ll just chill.”
    “Let’s go,” Jack said, opening the door.
    “Okay, we’ll be right back,” Abigail said.
    After they left I said, “C’mon, Ostin. Let’s start uploading.” I looked at Grace. “Are you okay with that?”
    She nodded. “That’s what I do.”
    Ostin powered up the computer, then turned to Grace. “So how do you transfer data?”
    “First I need to touch a metal part on the computer.” She glanced back at us. “I should sit down. Bringing it up is hard.”
    “Hard?” Taylor asked. “In what way?”
    “I guess it’s sort of like vomiting,” Grace said.
    “Oh,” Taylor said.
    Grace put both hands on the computer and began concentrating. Suddenly her eyes rolled back in her head and she began trembling.
    “Holy cannoli,” Ostin said. “Look at that.”
    Files suddenly began filling the screen. Grace continued until a screen popped up that said MEMORY FULL . She groaned, slumping forward.
    “You okay?” Taylor asked, taking her by the arm.
    She nodded. “Yeah. It just hurt a little.”
    “Wow. You filled the computer,” Ostin said. “It has a terabyte of storage. You must have downloaded most of their mainframe.” He looked at me. “We need a bigger computer.”
    “We got a lot of it, though, didn’t we?” I asked.
    Ostin nodded. “We got a boatload. Let’s see if we can find your mom.” He lifted his hands above the keyboard as if he were a pianist about to start a performance. He typed my mother’s name into the computer’s find function.
    I held my breath. Taylor took my hand as we waited. A screen came up.
    NO MATCHING FILES
    My heart fell.
    “I’ll try ‘prisoners,’” Ostin said.
    NO MATCHING FILES
    “Maybe they use a different word,” I said. “Is there a GP file?”
    “Let’s see.”
    Ostin typed in “GP.” About two dozen folders came up. “This one has the most information, let’s see what’s inside.” He clicked on it. “Holy cow,” he said. “Look at that.”
    There were thousands of records with names and mug-shot-type photographs.
    “What are those numbers?” I asked, pointing to a series of numbers that appeared beneath each record.
    Ostin glanced through the numbers