Willful Machines Read Online Free Page B

Prep. “Only when I’m not doing a handstand.”
    â€œTrue.”
    â€œI don’t know how to tie a double Windsor knot.”
    I looked around the auditorium. A few suits lingered here and there muttering into their pucks, and a few technicians had started packing lighting equipment into big metal boxes, but almost all the students had left. I glanced up. No more news cameras hovering over our heads. “I’ll do it for you,” I said. “If you want.”
    That grin again. Goofy and sly and dangerous, all at the same time. He drew close and pulled open his gray tweed blazer, wafting a scent in my direction: coconuts. Like he’d just stepped off a Chilean beach. Chile did have beaches, didn’t it?
    My mind scrambled around, doing quick calculations. What message had I sent by offering to tie his tie? Did it mean the same thing as giving him my puck handle? Had I crossed some line of no return yet? I reached out and unfastened his upside-down silver raven.
    The back of the pin where it had rested against Nico’s chest felt hot in my palm. Maybe I hadn’t imagined that odd warmthradiating from his body after all. I untied his tie, wishing I could also untie my own. The thing was strangling me now.
    â€œYou have cute ears,” Nico said.
    They tingled and probably turned bright red. “Thanks,” I mumbled as I looped the wide end of his tie around, over, and down.
    â€œSo let me get this straight,” he went on. “At Inverness Prep, you have to tie your tie a certain way and you can’t flirt with other boys. What kind of dictatorship is this?”
    â€œThis isn’t a dictatorship. This is America, remember?” I nodded my head toward the podium America’s freely elected commander in chief had vacated minutes ago.
    Nico laughed loudly.
    Then he stopped laughing.
    When I looked up, his grin had disappeared. “If I’m barking up the wrong tree,” he repeated, “tell me.”
    My fingers stopped looping. I swallowed, my Adam’s apple bulging against my collar. “The thing is—”
    A hand landed on my shoulder. I jerked away from Nico and knocked into something large and brick-wall-like. I whirled around.
    â€œHi, Trumbull,” I stammered.
    My Head Armed Babysitter frowned at me, one of his eyebrows rising above his sunglass frames. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sir.”
    I couldn’t stand it when Trumbull “sirred” me. I must’ve toldhim not to do that a hundred times, but he always did it anyway—especially on important occasions, like today, when he got more caught up than usual in playing secret agent. I wondered if he’d noticed the ambient strangeness floating in the air around me and Nico. If he had, he gave no sign, but then again I never could tell what was going on behind those dark lenses of his.
    â€œYour father wants to see you before he leaves,” he said. “The chopper’s taking off in thirteen minutes, so there isn’t much time. He’s waiting for you in your room. You’d better come with me.”
    â€œOkay. Just a second.”
    I turned back to Nico. He smirked. “Your father?”
    He seemed more amused than annoyed, like to him this was just one more example of how incredibly interesting and funny the world could be. I put out my hand for him to shake. It felt silly and overly formal, especially after the conversation we’d just had, but with Trumbull standing there, what else could I do?
    â€œNicolas Medina,” he said.
    â€œLee Fisher,” I answered sheepishly.
    â€œRight.” When we finished shaking, he folded his arms and stood, holding me with his light brown eyes and that knowing, but not nasty, smirk.
    â€œWell.” I followed the awkward shake with an awkward wave. “See you around.”
    Only as I walked away did I remember I hadn’t even finished tying his tie.

4

    T he main hall had