a guy who speaks twelve languages.”
Peter nodded. “Yeah, man. That doesn’t really look like normal recruiting.”
“It doesn’t look like anything.”
Peter stared at the list for another long moment. Slowly, using just his index fingers, he punched in: E-D-D-Y V-E-L-A-S-Q-U-E-Z.
The machine whirred, producing another full page of results in only sixty seconds. They scanned for a few moments, past a click about a Realtor in Cleveland, and a click about a minor league baseball player, but none of the results had anything to do with their Eddy.
“Wait, go back to the typing part,” Aiden said, leaning over him. In the search bar, he deleted the “-dy” of Eddy, and typed “W-A-R-D.” “Okay.” He nodded. “Go.”
Peter pressed go, and as soon as the first result showed up, Aiden felt his mouth go dry.
BOY THEOLOGIAN: TWELVE-YEAR-OLD EDWARD VELASQUEZ IS A BIBLICAL SCHOLAR
Neither of them said anything as Peter clicked through to the article. Evidently, at age twelve, the Edward Velasquez of the World Wide Web had memorized the Bible and could recall every individual verse on command. Aiden could hear Peter muttering incoherently to himself in his right ear as they read, offering a few “what the fucks?” as they tried to reconcile the article with the Eddy who exploded in church. Finally, when the page ran out, they both sat back and settled on the same question.
Peter asked it out loud. “What the fuck happened to him?”
Aiden shook his head, instead studying the article again. It didn’t look anything like a newspaper; rather, all of the articles had looked somewhat similar. “It’s amazing that all of this is on the World Wide Web already,” he said. “All these newspapers use it? Even the one in Nova Scotia? That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, I guess—oh, no. Wait.” Peter pointed to the corner of the screen. “This isn’t a newspaper site. They’re all coming from the same website. They’re all posted . . .” He made a click at the top, and the main box went white. “It’s loading, this page must be a bear.”
Slowly, the web page started to fill in from the top, line by line. The colors of the page came in dark—black, with red running down the side. Aiden started to get a sinking feeling as he watched it, like even though he was the one watching the website, really the website was watching him. The design came first; the logo, the Redemption crest in the corner. They started to make out the tops of the letters labeling the page; they were less than a third of the way complete when Peter was able to decipher the word at the top of the page: RECRUITS. As soon as the title was fully loaded, a new word popped up, just below the logo where REDEMPTION PREPARATORY ACADEMY was supposed to be, in bold letters—GRIOU.
“Excuse me.”
They spun. Secretary Phillips was wearing a full robe, standing at the end of the last aisle of books, staring down at the computer.
“Students only have World Wide Web privileges in class, and it’s almost curfew. Please turn off that computer immediately.”
“Are you serious—” Peter tried to protest.
“Now.” Secretary Phillips took another step toward them, a small pointer brandished like a weapon below the sleeve of her robe. “Don’t make me call maintenance.”
Peter did as she asked, and they gathered their stuff in a rush, their heads down. Secretary Phillips followed them all the way out of the library, watching as they went.
Part VI.
Light of the World.
Neesha.
“THIS IS AN important part of the healing process,” Neesha told him. “Punishment empowers the victim to forgive. An eye for an eye. You understand?”
Evan squirmed in front of her. “I know. Consequence.”
“Right,” she said. “If I could, I would punish you socially by just ignoring you forever, but we don’t have that kind of time—”
“I understand.”
Without hesitation, Neesha drew her right arm back and swung it open-handed across Evan’s face. The skin connected with a sharp and satisfying clap, and Evan fell back onto Emma’s bed.
“Wow.” Zaza watched from the corner. “That felt good.”
Evan sat up quickly, ignoring his cheek, where the pale skin had flushed bright red. “Do you forgive me?”
She nodded. “You were right. Emma didn’t go home. She’s still here.”
Evan opened his bag and handed her a small, folded piece of glossy magazine paper. “I found this in her locker.”
It was a doodle, one of hundreds she’d seen Emma draw into the corners of her textbooks, homework, and journals. This one was a Bible verse: Put on the full armor