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Although I had had the place to myself the first day, I assumed that, from now on, I would have company. Not that it mattered—none of them would talk to me anyway.
    There were twelve guys maybe more. I tried not to stare, and acted as if I didn’t notice them. I slipped my hands into my pockets when I saw them and turned on my iPod. Music made people less intimidating. Now I understood why women joined those all-ladies gyms.
    I carried the workout chart the coach had given me. I sat on a black workout bench in front of the wall of mirrors, staring down at the chart, trying to remember what a lat pulldown machine looked like. The coach was not in the gym, so I was going to have to ask someone or skip the exercise. I glanced behind me to see if anyone looked friendly today. Ugh. Sam Barrett was standing over a guy, spotting him. Jerk. It was such a waste having a guy that good-looking be such a stuck-up snob.
    He looked at me for a second and then, as usual, looked around me, as if I didn’t exist. I noticed a guy from my Chemistry class who was kind of thin and nerdy, getting a drink from the water fountain to my left. I walked over with the chart. “Hi,” I said. “Cameron, right?” It seemed to my advantage to catch people off-guard when I needed an answer.
    He looked up from the fountain. “Uh, yeah?”
    “Do you know which one is the lat pull-down machine?”
    He looked around at the other guys, as if to get their approval to speak to me.
    I got in his face and whispered, “Listen, dork, I know you think you’re not supposed to talk to me, but do me a favor and just point in the general direction of the freakin’ machine.”
    He lifted a finger and pointed to the machine right behind me.
    I turned and glanced at it. Oh, yeah. Now I remember. Thanks, doofus.
    Because the good folks at Hazleton hadn’t seen fit to spend some coin on a locker room for girls, I had to change in one of the few women’s bathrooms at the school. There weren’t very many women at Hazelton: me, Kwan, the secretary in the office, and the old Home Economics lady. Oh, well. At least the bathrooms were clean, though they did lack showers, which would have been nice.
    I threw my Evansville High sweatshirt on and walked across campus toward Dr. Rich’s place. I was so beat, though, that I walked at a snail’s pace. The sun shined, but it was cool out. Soon the chill of fall would set in.
    A tunnel ran under one of the dorms, and I went that way for a change of scenery. When I was about halfway through the tunnel, I heard voices coming from the other side. I don’tknow why, but something about their tone made me stop in my tracks and listen.
    “Yeah, I’m thinking we go bigger with the next one,” said the first voice.
    “Gotta admit, girl number one was almost too easy. I still can’t believe she let herself get set up like that,” said the second voice.
    Did he say “she”? Do they mean Gabby? They must. They must mean Gabby. “Girl number one?” Are me and Kwan next? I knew Gabby didn’t steal. I knew it.
    But how did she get blamed? What did they do to her? It was so hard to resist jumping out of the tunnel and screaming at them, but now was not the time. I flattened myself against the wall as best I could and listened.
    “I think Mike would be proud we’re doing this for him,” a third party said. “So, Sam, who do we get next?”
    Sam Barrett. Of course he’s behind all this. He’s behind everything.
    “Guys, listen to me. Be patient. You can’t rush things. If we really want to get back at the school for expelling McCarthy, we have to do it smoothly. You can’t be too obvious or the headmaster will know you’re up to something,” Sam said coolly.
    Man, what I wouldn’t give to hit that guy. But who the heck is Mike McCarthy?
    “Right. You’re right, Captain. Tuttle and I will come up with a plan.”
    “All right, gentlemen, I have some studying to attend to. Good luck.”
    These guys were anything but