Taylor Hebert, Medhall Intern
Part Six: Stepping Up
[A/N: This chapter commissioned by GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
When the police got there, Mr Grayson handled most of the talking. He seemed to positively enjoy explaining the situation that had required his presence, while Bradley stood in the background and kept an eye on Sophia. Dad had no problem with that, especially given that everything seemed to be going our way for once.
Once Mr Grayson explained to the officers what Sophia had been doing (and
boy, the glare of death he got from Principal Blackwell was
nothing to the one he got from Sophia) and they'd viewed the footage of her kicking the shit out of Greg, they took her into custody readily enough. The social worker stayed glued to her side and only said one thing to her: "Don't say anything to anyone."
Good advice, I figured. Pity she hadn't been there earlier.
Dad and I, sitting to one side, were spectators to all this until a plainclothes female officer approached us. "Good morning," she said in a voice that seemed to convey a certain amount of doubt as to how good it was going to be. "I'm Detective Temple. I understand you're one of the injured parties here?"
"That's me," I confirmed. "Taylor Hebert."
"Danny Hebert," Dad said, holding out his hand. "I'm her father."
Detective Temple shook it, then took out a notepad. "Now, this is more a formality than anything else, but every detail is good to have in a case like this. How long have you known Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes?"
I glanced at Dad momentarily. "How long
have I known Emma? First grade? Before that?"
"At least that," he agreed. He nodded toward where Mr Barnes was talking earnestly to another officer. "Alan Barnes and I have known each other for nearly twenty years. Our daughters were best friends since they could walk and talk."
"Hm." Detective Temple made a note. "And Sophia Hess?"
I took a deep breath. "I wouldn't say I
know her. I've never had a polite conversation with her, or an interaction that turned out well for me. The first time I met her was at Emma's. Emma told me to go away, that she was bored with our friendship, and Sophia tripped me as I was going out the gate. And that set the tone from then on."
"And when was this?" Detective Temple's pen scribbled on the pad.
It took me a moment to think back. "Just before the beginning of school, last year. Late August, after I got back from summer camp. I went over to see Emma right away, and she just … rejected me. Like she was a totally different person from the one I left behind. Harder. Harsher."
Scribble, scribble went the pen. I waited for the next question.
Detective Temple looked up from the pad. "Did you do anything to cause this? I understand friendships can break up by saying something that sounds innocent."
"No." I shook my head. "I've been over it a million times in my head. She'd had a haircut, kind of a pixie cut thing. It was new on her, but she totally made it work. So I said something about it, told her that it looked good on her. But she just looked at me like … like I wasn't her friend. Like I was a piece of dog crap she was scraping off her shoe. Told me she should've cut me loose years ago. She told me to go away, and Sophia said something mean and stuck her foot in front of me when I was going out the gate. I went home and cried for about a day, then I told myself that I'd see her in school and it would be all better."
"And it wasn't." The tone of Detective Temple's voice made it a statement, rather than a question.
I shook my head again. "She's always been popular. I've always been … not. Once she had her in-group sorted out, they started on me. Teasing me, stealing my stuff, sabotaging my homework. It just never stopped."
"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Dad looked stricken. "If I'd known …"
"I am somewhat curious myself," Detective Temple agreed. "Why didn't you report it? To a teacher, if not to your father?"
I snorted with dark humour. "I did. They barely got punished. Then they started accusing
me of what
they were doing. I was just me. They all had friends who backed up each other's stories. And if I did get someone in trouble, they came at me twice as hard." I looked at Dad sadly. "And you were still getting over Mom. I thought I could handle it. Then I thought I could just tough it out. Then … I was too used to just taking it. I couldn't make the
effort to do anything different."
The interview went on for a little longer. Detective Temple teased out a few more details, and got me to confirm that the pepper spray that Bradley had handed over was indeed mine. She nodded when Dad pointed out that he'd gotten it for my self-protection.
We were wrapping things up when she said to let her know if I thought of anything else to tell her. That was when I remembered. "Uh, I do have detailed notes of everything they've been doing to me since school started this year. Would that help?"
Detective Temple's eyes widened slightly. "Definitely. Written testimony is still testimony. How quickly can you get it to me?"
Dad seemed to come to a decision. "Well, I'm taking Taylor out of school for the day. How about you follow us home and Taylor can get it for you?"
"That should work. Just excuse me for a moment, please." Detective Temple went and spoke to another officer.
"How are things going with you?" Mr Grayson asked, apparently materialising out of nowhere. "I'd advise you to be careful about speaking with the police, but I suspect you've got that well in hand."
"Pretty good. Taylor's just given her statement to the detective, and she's got some written notes about the bullying at home." Dad ran his hand through his thinning hair. "Detective Temple's going to follow us home and pick it up."
"That sounds fine to me." He smiled and lowered his voice slightly. "Just make sure not to let her in if there's anything in view you don't want her to see. She might be here about the Hess girl, but the police are never
not on duty, if you get my meaning."
"I hear that." Dad nodded toward where Mr Barnes was talking quietly to Emma, who was doing a lot of nodding. "Alan always said much the same thing."
"His daughter might have been a bad friend, but that's still good advice," said Mr Grayson. "So, Taylor, see you at work tomorrow?"
"Totally," I said. "I still can't thank you and Bradley enough for showing up when you did."
He smirked. "Just between you and me, we'd been out and about collecting evidence on what's been happening to you, and the school was actually our next stop. But it was absolutely our pleasure to be able to nip that sort of thing in the bud and make sure troublemakers like the Hess girl get what they deserve. Is it true you pepper-sprayed her?"
I nodded. "Yeah. She was trying to drag me off the bus when I was going to Medhall that one day."
He shook his head. "She didn't know who she was messing with, obviously. See you tomorrow." He held out his hand, and I shook it.
"Thanks," I said, feeling a flush come over me at the praise. "See you then."
He nodded in reply and turned to Dad. "It's been good to meet you, Danny. Take care of Taylor. You've got a real firebrand here. I can definitely see her being an asset to Medhall in the future."
"I'll do my best." Dad shook his hand, then looked at me as Mr Grayson walked away. "In the future, huh? So you think this intern job might be going somewhere?"
I was still riding the high from the compliments from the very well-accomplished Mr Grayson, but I managed to lower my voice a bit. "Um, don't tell anyone, but they said they're definitely thinking about giving me an actual paid position at the end of the month. Basically, doing what I'm doing now, but getting money for it."
His eyebrows rose. "Well, now. You
must have impressed them. Good for you." I watched the first genuine smile of the day spread across his face as Detective Temple rejoined us.
"You look like you've got good news," she observed. "Anything I need to know about?"
"Not specifically, no," Dad said. "Mr Grayson just made sure Taylor knew her internship was still ongoing, despite all this." Which was true, if not exactly informative. Apparently, he'd taken Mr Grayson's advice to heart. I didn't think that the news of me getting a paid position at Medhall would prejudice my case, but I supposed it didn't hurt the police not to know that.
While I was still musing about that, we went out to the car. I belted myself in and Dad drove us both home. We didn't talk much on the way there, but I could tell Dad was thinking deeply about stuff. That suited me; so was I.
We pulled up in the driveway at home, and Detective Temple parked on the side of the road. Dad gave me the house key and went to chat with her as I headed up to the front door and let myself in. The pages were held together with a bulldog clip, stashed in my room under a spare Christmas sweater that was way too garish for me to even consider wearing. It took me less than a minute to run up the stairs, get to my room, and retrieve them. I came back a little more slowly; Dad and Detective Temple both looked around as I exited the front door.
"So is this it?" she asked, reaching out for it.
"Jesus Christ, what's Emma been
doing?" Dad blurted out at the same time, looking at the number of pages I had clipped together. He turned to the detective. "I'm going to need a receipt and a copy of that, as soon as you can make one. Whether Alan likes it or not, I need to show him exactly what Emma's been up to."
"I can give you a receipt right now." She was leafing through the pages as she spoke. "But I
can't give you the copy until after the case goes through. This is material evidence of a whole series of crimes. Mr Barnes will be seeing it, but from our hands. As I understand it, his daughter has agreed to testify on Taylor's behalf. We're going to need to go through this with her to see if there's any she wishes to contest, and he's already stated he wants to be in the room."
"She won't contest a damn thing." Dad's tone was certain. "Alan will crawl over hot coals to protect his daughter. Any man would. Anything that'll give her a chance to walk away from this, he'll take. And with her and Madison singing a duet …" He shook his head. "I would
not want to be in Sophia's shoes right now."
"Okay, so I get it that Emma gets to go to Boston and I never see her face again, and Madison probably gets some sort of deal in return for dropping a dime too, but will Sophia at least get punished?" I didn't want to sound like a sadist, but
someone needed to pay for the shit I'd been through. "Juvenile detention or whatever?"
"That's very specifically not for me to say," Detective Temple said. "The courts handle that sort of thing. Depending on the level of cooperation and remorse shown, the other two might get suspended sentences, or they might end up serving a little juvey time. But yes, someone is going down, and my gut—and what's in here—says that Sophia Hess is not going to be able to avoid being in the line of fire."
She meticulously counted the pages, noting the email printouts I'd done, and wrote out a receipt for the sheets while I numbered and initialled each one in front of her. Then she handed over the receipt and I gave her the sheaf of pages.
"You know, I've seen people sink themselves before," she said conversationally as she got into her car. "There was this one guy who robbed a convenience store, then got mugged when he stopped in an alley to count his take. So he showed up at the local precinct to report the mugging, just as we were viewing the security footage and putting together a description of him. But between what's on the recordings, two separate people rolling over on her, several eyewitnesses to a violent assault
and a written record of her misdeeds …" She laughed out loud. "The angel Gabriel himself couldn't get her out of this."
<><>
PRT ENE
Director Emily Piggot
The first thing Emily knew about the new situation was the report that had been emailed to her. It was a standard arrangement with the Brockton Bay PD; if certain names came up, their systems automatically notified the PRT's systems. They didn't get to view the names, of course. It was all encrypted. But a name had come into the switch room, and police had been dispatched to the scene.
The name was Sophia Hess.
Emily still didn't know exactly
what had happened—the initial call had only named names and mentioned a violent altercation, but given no more details—so she'd messaged the PRT officer who'd been assigned as Hess' handler. A message had come back to the effect that Bright was on the way, as Hess had already contacted her. More messages followed: that she was at Winslow; that Sophia was unharmed and her secret identity was intact; that some other girls had acted out and she'd been caught up in the situation, and finally that she was going to ride in a police car with Sophia to the precinct.
Some may have been lulled into thinking it wasn't a problem; after all, Hess' minder was right there and didn't seem to be concerned. But Emily had learned long ago that any sort of unexpected situation with a cape (
especially a Ward) had the potential to blow out into a full-blown crisis at the drop of a domino mask. Which was why she was trying to ring Blackwell herself, if only to get the full picture. Unfortunately, Blackwell didn't seem to be picking up.
This still put it into the 'absence of news' category, rather than
bad news, but Emily didn't trust it in the slightest. Once Bright was able to walk Hess out of the precinct station and get her back to the PRT building, they would both be conveyed directly to Emily's office, because the Director was supposed to be the
first person in the know, not the
last.
All she could do was hope that Hess didn't do anything stupid before then.
<><>
In the Back of a Police Car
Undercover PRT Officer Kirsten Bright
"Not fuckin' fair."
Sophia's mumble might have gone unnoticed if it wasn't for the uncomfortable silence in the back of the car. However, Kirsten heard it loud and clear. Worse, she reacted by glancing at Sophia, who looked challengingly back at her. Which meant she now had to notice it.
"What do you mean by that, Sophia?" she asked quietly, hoping the girl would take the hint and keep her voice down. The last thing she wanted or needed was a spontaneous confession in front of a pair of police officers.
"It's bullshit, is what I mean." Sophia's voice was still low, but there was an edge of steel in it now. "They can't just set that shit up like that and get me arrested. That shit doesn't
happen to me. I hope Piggy calls the Triumvirate on them. It's gotta be illegal."
"Now's not the time to debate legality." Kirsten hoped the cops weren't listening closely enough to catch the reference to Director Piggot. "That's for when you appear in court. If we can prove—"
"Court?" Sophia shook her head. "Fuck that. I do more to keep this city safe than any three other capes, and they're gonna put me on trial for this trivial shit? No way. Not an option."
"Sophia,
calm down," whispered Kirsten.
Don't be listening, don't be listening … "It looks bad, sure, but we're a lot better off keeping our heads and not doing anything—"
"No,
you fuckin' calm down," Sophia retorted. "I'm sick of this shit. I'm done." Before Kirsten's disbelieving eyes, she misted through the cuffs just as the car slowed to perform a turn. Changing to her Breaker form, she dived out through the door, then changed back just in time to yank the back door of the police car open and slam it again.
"Hey, what the fuck?" yelled the cop riding shotgun as he craned his neck to stare into the back seat of the car, now minus Sophia. "The kid got out! How'd the kid get out?"
"Crap!" The driver reacted, screeching the car to a halt and throwing Kirsten into the back of his seat. "Get after her! She's in cuffs, she can't get far."
As the other one jumped out and ran back toward the corner, Kirsten knew they didn't have a chance in hell of catching up with Sophia. Even without her powers, it would've been doubtful. With them, she was in the wind the moment she got two yards away from the car. Opening and closing the door was a nice touch, drawing attention away from the fact that she'd used powers to get through it.
The driver got out and opened the door to let Kirsten out of the car. She hadn't been charged with anything, after all. "What happened?" he asked, his voice harsh. "How'd she get that damn door open?"
"Well, it was opened from the outside, obviously," Kirsten said. She'd already checked—as Sophia no doubt had as well—and the tiny camera lens that was supposed to record everything in the back seat was dull and dark, with no LED to show it was in service. A typical state of affairs for the Brockton Bay Police Department, all told. "Do you think maybe she had an accomplice?" Lying to the cops was an offence, but asking a hypothetical question was not the same as making a statement. Her
actual statement to Director Piggot was going to be a lot more uncomfortable now, thanks in every way to Shadow Stalker and her
amazing lack of self-control.
She wondered if it was too early to start dusting off her resumé …
<><>
Hookwolf
"Y'know," mused Bradley as Alexander expertly guided the car through the late-morning traffic, "It was kinda lucky that the little cow went off the rails like she did, to make it an open-and-shut case." He shot the other man a suspicious glance. "But it wasn't just luck, was it?"
Alexander smirked as he speared the car through a gap that should by rights have been too small for it. "Well, lucky's one word for it. Personally, I've always believed a man should make his own luck."
"Fuckin'
thought so," Bradley said accusingly. "You were workin' on all of 'em there, weren't you? Blackwell, that little brunette, the redhead …"
The smirk turned into a chuckle. "It can get so
tedious waiting for your adversary to make a mistake, when it's the work of a few moments to draw down his or her critical thinking and their ability to make a reasoned judgement. They won't even lose them permanently, though that Hess girl won't be running on all cylinders for a while. After what she tried to pull, I hit her
hard."
"Might be longer than you think," Bradley said thoughtfully. "She gimme the impression of someone who thinks with her fists. Sorta person who figures rules are for other people."
Alexander laughed out loud. "What, like you and me …
Hookwolf?"
Bradley rolled his eyes. "Ha ha. Fuckin' smartass. No, I mean, she's someone who'll go against
all the rules, even the ones we agree to between ourselves. I mean, there's gotta be rules at some point. She came across as the sort of little bitch who'd kick over the apple cart just to see shit going down, know what I mean?"
"Hm." Alexander rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You may be right. Still, it's not exactly our problem. She's going directly to juvenile detention, exactly where her kind belongs. We've done our good deed for the day and all is well with the world."
<><>
The first Emily knew about the disappearance of Sophia Hess was when the automated email dropped into her inbox. She clicked on it, opened it and absorbed the header all in one smooth action. Then she actually took in the body of the email.
She froze.
Then she read the email again.
"What the
fuck?"
More profanity was lining up to be spoken as she reached for her phone. It would have to wait; she had to talk to people, and while swearing at the top of her lungs was invariably cathartic, the signal-to-noise ratio was unacceptably low. But there were some choice utterances she was going to
relish using later, especially when she got the chance to speak to those
idiots who had convinced her to give Shadow Stalker a place on the team.
She went into her phone directory and selected
Bright, Kirsten. Because she always made damn sure that her contacts list was properly formatted. And then she hit the little green icon.
"Answer my phone, you little weasel," she muttered. "Or I swear, I will activate the GPS and track you down—ah, Ms Bright! Just the person I wanted to talk to. No, I actually do not care where you are or who you
were talking to. You are talking to me, right now. I want to know what the hell happened with Hess, post haste. You know what post haste means? No? It means
drop what you're doing and be in my office FIVE FUCKING MINUTES AGO! Do I make myself absolutely clear? Good." She shut the call off with a vicious stab at the red icon, then sat back in her chair.
There was a very good chance that Shadow Stalker was no longer a Ward. She would make the final decision on that after she'd heard from the Bright woman (and from Blackwell, whenever she chose to answer her damn phone) about what was going on there.
The final question after that would be exactly how much in the way of resources Emily was prepared to dedicate toward recapturing Hess so that the little delinquent could be delivered safely to juvenile detention.
For that, she'd just have to wait and see what the Bright twit said.
<><>
Wednesday Morning
Taylor
The next half-day at school was … different. There were several girls, and one or two guys, who normally had a habit of sneering at me or bumping me in the halls. They'd clearly heard
something about what happened, but not all the details, or what the fallout had been. Having police come to the school was not exactly an unusual occurrence, but they rarely came for someone as prominent as Emma, or even Sophia or Madison. None of them had come back to Winslow, which only heightened the mystery for their cronies. Greg wasn't there either, but nobody else seemed to notice
his absence.
After Mrs Knott's class was World Affairs. Madison wasn't there, of course, but Julia was. For the first half of the class, she shot me an occasional puzzled glance, but I could tell she was building up the nerve to act on her own. Finally, about an hour in, she cleared her throat and raised her hand.
"Mr G," she said. "I need to sharpen my pencil."
"Certainly, Julia," he said, then turned toward her. "You will not pass by Miss Hebert's desk. If you do anything whatsoever to interfere with her scholastic experience, I will be sending you to Principal Blackwell's office for immediate punishment. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"
Julia stopped moving when she was still only halfway to her feet. Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him. "Mr G?"
"You heard me." I'd never heard that tone from him before. It was a welcome experience, like he was actually being a teacher for about the first time ever. "And it's Mr Gladly. Do you still need to sharpen your pencil?"
"Oooh," murmured some of the kids around me. "Burned," whispered others.
Julia heard them and her face turned red. "No," she mumbled, and sat down again.
"Good," he announced, and faced the class. "It's come to the attention of the faculty that some of you are in the habit of bullying others. That will cease immediately. Anyone violating this prohibition will find themselves in detention or even suspended from class. Does anyone not understand this?"
Nobody said a word, then to my surprise one hand went up. I was even more surprised when I saw who it was. So was Mr Gladly. "What is it, Sparky?" he asked. I was pretty sure this wasn't intended to be funny; it was indicative of the fact that nobody in the room could remember Sparky's real name. Quite possibly not even himself.
"Uh … I was wondering where Greg was," he mumbled. "Did he get sent to the office?"
Did I miss something? was what he didn't say, but we all heard it anyway.
"No," Mr Gladly said curtly. "He's also been a victim of bullying. Yesterday, Sophia Hess beat him up in front of several witnesses. He's currently recuperating at home."
"Oh." Sparky put his hand down.
Mr Gladly raised his eyebrows. "Now, did anyone else have any questions? No? Good. As I was saying, it's a common misconception that the downtick in shipping trade is due to Leviathan attacking ships at sea. Can anyone point out the
actual reason for this …?"
The class went on. Mr Gladly took a brief phone call outside the room, then came back and continued the lesson. Julia was looking at me, as though wondering how I'd suddenly acquired bulletproof status. I didn't acknowledge her because I didn't feel like explaining exactly what had happened, even if I'd been free to do just that.
When the bell rang for lunch, I picked up my backpack (which had my entire work outfit in it, carefully ironed and folded) and walked out of the classroom. I didn't know if he'd done that because of a sudden urge to be a competent human being for once, or if Blackwell had given the entire faculty a thorough reaming after what had happened the day before. My money was on column B, but to be honest I didn't care. I would be transferring to Arcadia just as soon as they could force it through, and I'd be free of this shithole forever, and everyone in it.
The bus ride into the city was almost peaceful. I was able to shake off the mild depression that even thinking about Winslow got me into as I wondered what work Tracey would have for me today. I'd finally eighty-sixed the last of those paper files (much to her genuine satisfaction) so I was looking forward to a new challenge. Mr Grayson and Bradley had stepped up for me. I wanted to give something back.
When I got off at the bus stop, I encountered a welcome surprise. Greg, looking a little bruised and banged up but still on his feet, was waiting for me. "Oh, hey," I said. "Wow, you look like the quarterback in our last game against Arcadia after the entire team ran over him."
"Yeah, I kinda feel that way too," he agreed. "My bruises have got bruises, but there's no way I'm gonna risk losing this internship. How'd it go yesterday, with Mr Grayson and Bradley? I went home after the nurse checked me over and said I probably didn't have a concussion. Mom went apeshit and refused to let me come to school today." He mimed a tear trickling down his cheek. "I was totally cut up about that, let me tell you."
I snorted and punched him lightly on the shoulder, trying for someplace without a bruise. He winced anyway, the wuss. "I just bet. Yeah, they totally took charge. But thanks for showing up when you did. You saved me from something really nasty." Leaning in, I gave him another kiss on the cheek. "You should've seen it. Mr Grayson did sneaky lawyer shit and Madison totally caved. Then Sophia jumped her and beat the living shit out of her, and Bradley hauled her off then gave her a smack in the mouth when she wouldn't stay put. It was
amazing."
"Aw, damn it," he complained. "I miss out on
all the good stuff." But he rubbed at where I'd kissed him, and the tiny little smile on his face said he was pretty happy about that bit. "So give me all the details. What happened after you guys dropped me at the nurse?"
"Well, you should've seen Blackwell's face …" I began as we headed in through the front doors of Medhall. We paused briefly while we swiped ourselves in using our cards, then kept going after we got through, heading for the elevators.
"Uh, Mr Veder?" That was Burt, one of the guys on security at the front desk.
He stopped and turned around. I paused as well, wanting to see what was going on. "Uh, yeah, what's up? Did I do something wrong?"
"There's nothing wrong," Burt assured him. "I was instructed to tell you to go to Miss Hebert's floor before you report for work, that's all." He gave us both a nod and a tight smile, then went back to watching the screens.
"Okay, sure, thanks." Greg glanced at me. "What's that about?"
I shrugged. "No idea. Let's go see."
We got in the elevator and rode up to my floor. Bradley was standing at his post nearby when we stepped out; he nodded toward us both. "Miss Hebert. Mr Veder."
"Good afternoon, Bradley," I said with a smile. "Thanks again for yesterday."
"Yeah," Greg said. "That was really great, what you did."
Bradley snorted slightly, giving the (probably accurate) impression that the whole thing hadn't even amounted to light exercise for him. "You're the one who took the lumps, kid, not me. Gotta say, you got guts. I mean, you got your ass handed to you, but you got guts to jump in there anyway."
"The worst thing is, I got beat up by a girl," Greg said morosely. "I mean, jocks push me around anyway, and I guess she's a jock and all, but still, a
girl."
"Hey, don't go thinking girls aren't all that," Bradley pointed out. "Friend of mine called Melody, she's one of the toughest people I know. Girls can kick ass too."
"Thanks, Bradley." I gave him another smile. "Well, we gotta go and see what's up."
We found out about a minute later. As I entered the workspace I shared with Tracey, I saw that Justin was there, along with Mr Grayson and a young woman only a few years older than me. They all turned and started clapping, which caused Greg and me to both stop in our tracks.
"Hail the conquering heroes," Justin said with a cheesy grin. Tracey elbowed him in the side, which he ignored. "Nicely done, both of you."
"Greg did all the 'doing'," I protested. "I just stood there and watched."
"Not so," Mr Grayson corrected me. "As I understand it, you got in a few licks yourself. A punch in the mouth and an elbow to the head?"
"I guess, but …" I pointed at Greg. "He's the real hero."
"I got my ass kicked," Greg said. "Some hero I am. Mr Grayson and Bradley were the ones who saved the day."
"We can kick the credit around all day," Mr Grayson said with a chuckle. "Let's just agree that it was a team effort and go with that. Taylor, Greg, you haven't met my wife Diane, have you?"
"Uh, no," I said. Stepping forward, I held out my hand. "Taylor Hebert. I'm really pleased to meet you."
"Likewise," she said, shaking my hand and then Greg's. "I'm usually in the nurse's station in the infirmary. If either of you start feeling problems from the beating you were in yesterday, don't hesitate to come see me. Okay?"
"Totally," I said. "But I didn't get much of a beating. Greg suffered the worst of it."
Greg shook his head. "I'm not gonna lie. Last night I wanted to curl up in a hole. It still hurts, so I'll keep that in mind."
"Good idea," declared Justin. "Well, I've got to jet. I'll be back to steal your coffee, Taylor."
"Yeah, I just bet." I shook my head. The man was incorrigible, but I couldn't help liking him.
Mr Grayson turned to me. "Before I go as well, were there any problems at school today?"
"None at all," I assured him. "Someone went to try, but Mr Gladly shut her down. For the first time ever. I think she was in shock."
He assumed a totally evil expression and steepled his fingers. "Excellent," he purred.
I stifled a giggle and shook my head. "Wow, all you need is a Bond villain base and a fluffy white Persian cat to stroke, and you'd be a classic movie villain."
"And that's never happening," Diane noted. "Not unless he wants to sleep on the couch in his Bond villain base. Nice meeting you two."
"Ah, the one who wears the pants has spoken," Mr Grayson said with all good cheer. "I'll see you at another time, Taylor. Take care, Gregory."
It was kind of quiet in the office after they'd left. Greg looked at me and I looked at him. "Well, I suppose I should go and get some work done," he said a little awkwardly. "Those plant rooms aren't going to inspect themselves, after all."
"Yeah, good point," I said. "See you later, Greg."
"See you later, Taylor."
I watched him go, then went into the little break room, got out the iron and took the few creases out of my prepacked work clothing. With a quick splash of water on my face to freshen up, I changed in the restroom.
"Nice," Tracey said as I came out. "You're looking very chipper today, even with that bruise on your cheek. Alexander told me what went down at that ridiculous school you attend. How are you feeling about it?"
"I'm doing great," I assured her, and I didn't have to lie even a little bit. "I think yesterday was their all-out attempt to stick it to me. I've got this internship, they know they can't take it away from me, so they were doubling down at school. But in a way, they did me a huge favour. Because of what Emma did, her dad is now pressuring the school hard to get me transferred to Arcadia. Sophia's been arrested, and Madison's off sick
and testifying against Sophia, like Emma is. So everything's looking up."
She smiled brilliantly. "That's really good to hear. I was shocked and surprised to get the phone call from Greg yesterday, and I'm glad it all turned out well. He really thinks a lot of you; you know that, don't you?"
"Who, Greg?" That was something I hadn't ever spent much time thinking about. Greg was just
there, part of the furniture. More recently, I'd started thinking of him as a friend. But she had a point; he'd really been stepping up for me recently. "Yeah, I guess. He's a nice guy, once you get past the un-housebroken puppy aspect."
She stifled a snort of amusement. "You'll find that many teenage boys have much the same issue. He had a bad start, but he seems to be finding his feet and learning responsibility. I think you might be being just a little harsh on the boy."
"I'll keep that in mind," I decided. "So, what's on the docket for today?"
"Well, seeing as you finished off our usual make-work project, I found something else for you to do. It's an employee audit. Sometimes, glitches creep into the system and people get transferred into two different departments at once, or the details of their security clearances fall through the cracks. It's actually not unknown for a department to be dissolved, and someone to not be transferred to a new one. They show up, sit at their desk, and go home. Pay comes through, but they never do any work, because nobody's actually in charge of them."
"I could name people who would consider that their dream job," I said dryly. "But sure, I can do that." I went to sit at my desk, and saw the scanner still beside me. A sinking feeling developed in my stomach. "Oh, wait. Are these files …"
"On paper, yes." Tracey might or might not have had a smirk on her face as she went and got a cardboard carton of yet more manila folders. "This is why we can't just ask the system to arrange them all by hair colour or whatever. You need to enter them, and see where they slot into the system, and make sure the current system isn't being problematic due to a misplaced comma or something."
"Okay, then." It was a little more open-ended than my last task, but I supposed Tracey had learned she could trust me to work until I got it done. Which, of course, I intended to. Medhall had been nothing but good to me, and I wanted it to succeed. And if scanning in employee records and then cross-checking them against existing records was going to be my part of that, then that was what I was going to do. "Let's get this going. But first … coffee."
While the scanner was warming up, I went and made three cups of coffee. One for Tracey, the way she liked it, one for me and one for Justin when he mysteriously appeared in the doorway mere seconds after I'd poured it for him. Either he had a parahuman power that allowed him to detect when coffee was being made, or he was in the habit of waiting around just near our office space until the smell of fresh coffee came wafting down the corridor. Neither one would've surprised me overmuch.
Thus fortified, I tuned out Justin's flirting with Tracey and examined the setup Tracey had sent to my terminal. I could see how the files were entered; checking the first manila folder, it was easy to see that the paper files were laid out in the same way. It took a little experimentation, but I found I could scan the pages and then overlay that on the employee database input section. The scanner still had a tiny bias to the right, but I just had to allow for that. After a few minor hiccups, I found myself going smoothly, setting aside each folder as I finished with it.
We stopped for lunch, and I chatted with Tracey over my pita bread wrap and juice-box. She listened to my first-hand account of what had happened in the school, and agreed that I really did need to get out of there as soon as possible.
After lunch, I finished the last of the employee files. Tracey had given me a checklist to cover, and I started going through with it. I found I could sort and check people by employee number and Social Security number, as well as any other data that could be applied to a sorting algorithm. As I went through, I learned to access the dates they started at Medhall, and other information about their security clearances. It was thoroughly fascinating, and I learned a lot about how databases worked.
I was totally immersed in the work when Tracey said my name. Shaking my head, I looked around at her. "Sorry, I was just trying to chase something down. What's up?"
She grinned at me, clearly used to my little ways by now. "Ten to three, Taylor. You might want to start packing things up so you can go home."
"Okay, sure. I'll just do a few more, then call it quits for the day." I settled back down in front of the terminal and resumed my study of the current employee on my screen. His attendance record was up to date, there were no black marks against his name, he'd joined Medhall on that date …
I paused. Something was tapping at my brain. I was missing an important detail.
Carefully, I went back through the last few ones I'd done. When I spotted what had been bothering me, I did a quick sort, and looked at the result.
"Tracey," I said hesitantly. "I don't know if this is a thing, but I just found something that looks weird to me."
"Well, tell me what it is and I'll let you know if it's a thing or not," she said immediately. Getting up, she came around to where I was sitting.
"I nearly missed this," I confessed. "But I did a sort based on social security, and this guy and a few others …" I pointed at the screen. "Their numbers are consecutive."
She blinked. "That can't be right. And if it's right, it can't be good."
"Also, some of them are down as having provided security clearance for some of the others," I ventured.
That definitely got her attention. "That's a big tick on the 'not good' column." She waved me out of the chair, so I went and made her a cup of coffee while she worked. When I brought it back, she looked up at me, her expression serious. "This is huge, Taylor. Can you wait back a while? I need to go up the chain for this."
I nodded. "Totally."
We weren't kept waiting long. Ms Harcourt arrived in less than two minutes, sweeping into the office space like a battleship into enemy waters. She gave me a very brief nod of acknowledgement, then turned to Tracey. "Talk to me."
Tracey made way for Ms Harcourt, then talked her through what I'd discovered. Ms Harcourt checked a few of the numbers and examined the details of the employees thus uncovered, then looked up at me. "This is how you found them?" she asked bluntly.
"Absolutely, ma'am," I confirmed. "As soon as I saw they were in sequence, I told Tracey."
"Good work, both of you," she said, then took out her phone.
Tracey and I stepped away while she made a call. "Does that mean what I think it does?" I asked in a whispered undertone, pointing at the computer terminal.
"That you just found a bunch of moles and probably saved Medhall hundreds of thousands of dollars? Yeah, absolutely." Tracey put her arm around my shoulders and hugged me tightly. "I'm totally proud of you, Taylor."
"Wow," I said. "I can't believe it."
Inside, I felt
amazing. Medhall had stepped up for me, and now I had the chance to step up for Medhall.
I love my job.
End of Part Six
