The Impossible Fortress

“You’ve already spooked her! By renting that stupid movie eighteen times!”


Their bickering was making me tired. Or maybe it was just the sun—directly overhead and beating down on us. I could feel parts of my skin crisping up; the rest was slathered in mud. My heart was pounding.

Clark took the Claw from his pocket and tucked it under his shirt. He looked like a portrait of Napoleon. “Is this less obvious?”

“You’re just calling attention to it,” I said.

Clark shook his head. “I wish I brought gloves.”

Alf was exasperated. “You need to get over this, Clark. The girl’s here on scholarship. She’s not stupid. You’re not fooling her.”

Clark wouldn’t relent. He kept the Claw hidden beneath his shirt. “If she sees it too soon, she’ll be repulsed. It’s better this way.”

Footsteps passed nearby, on the other side of the hedge wall, and we all stopped taking until they were gone. I was feeling anxious, and I asked if the guys would mind giving me a little privacy. “I’d like to meet with Mary one on one.”

“Sure, totally,” Alf said. He suggested that we meet by the gap in the fence, where we crawled through the creek. “If you’re not there in twenty minutes, we’ll know something’s wrong and we’ll leave. Does that sound all right?”

“That sounds great,” I said. “And thank you, guys. Thanks for helping me get this far. I owe you big-time.”

“You don’t owe us nothing,” Alf said. “Just promise you’ll make this count, all right? Tell her what you came to say. No wussing out.”

He put out his hand and we shook on it. “No wussing out.”

“Good luck, Billy,” Clark said. “I really hope it goes okay for you. And tell Lynn I said good-bye, all right?”

I promised I would, but this turned out to be unnecessary.

Alf and Clark were just standing to leave when Lynn returned to the garden. Trailing behind her was a tall, slender Asian girl with long dark hair. She cracked her gum and studied us with disapproval.

“Who’s this?” Alf asked.

“This is Mary,” Lynn said. “From Video City.”

“Who the hell are you?” Mary from Video City asked.

“Zelinsky,” I told Lynn. “I said Mary Zelinsky.”

“You said Mary from Video City.”

“I don’t know Mary from Video City.” I turned to Mary from Video City. “I’m very sorry to bother you. There’s been a mistake. I’m looking for Mary Zelinsky.”

The girls stared back at me, confused.

“She’s short, black hair?” I said. “She paints little pictures on her fingernails? Little binary numbers?”

“Wait, Computer Geek Mary?” Lynn asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“From the typewriter store?”

“Exactly!” I said.

“We don’t really know her,” Lynn said.

“She keeps to herself,” Mary from Video City explained.

We were interrupted by a loud chime that echoed across campus. Lynn explained that this was the bell between classes. “You’re too late, anyway,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I gotta go. I can’t miss Trig.”

My mind couldn’t move fast enough to brainstorm a Plan B. “Where does Mary go after lunch?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Lynn said.

“She might have Organic Chem,” said Mary from Video City. “On the second floor of the classroom building.”

I wasn’t leaving now, not after coming this far. I reached into the wall of hedges, pulling apart the leaves and branches and peering out across campus. Girls were spilling out of the cafeteria, dozens of girls talking and laughing and carrying textbooks. They filed across a concrete walkway, walking to the doors of the classroom building.

Clark peered over my shoulder. “There,” he said, pointing with his good hand. “Do you see her?”

I saw her.

Mary had just exited the cafeteria, and the trip to the classroom building would take her less than thirty seconds. There was no time to think or make smart choices. If she reached the classroom building, she was gone for good. I lunged forward, bulldozing through the hedges like a cartoon character, pushing and clawing my way through the brambles. Then I ran as fast as I could.

As soon as I left the garden I realized I’d miscalculated. Mary was already halfway to the classroom building, and there was no way I’d reach her in time. I shouted Mary’s name, and what followed seemed to happen in slow motion. Every girl on the campus—and by now there were at least a hundred of them—they all stopped moving and turned to stare at me. They gaped and pointed and their mouths formed perfect Os.

Mary heard me yelling and turned around. At first she just seemed confused—but then I came running up and all the color left her face. She looked mortified. And suddenly I felt like an idiot. What the hell was I thinking? What was I going to say, here at the school in front of everyone?

I turned to retreat, and to my astonishment I saw that Alf and Clark were right behind me. They’d left the garden and followed me and now they were beside me. A crowd of girls closed around us, forming a circle. They were pointing at us and laughing, and I remembered how awful we looked. Our clothes were ripped and ruined. My khakis were spattered with blood and muck. Alf was barefoot and Clark had his Claw tucked away like Napoleon and all of us reeked of swamp water. I’m surprised Mary even recognized me.

She was dressed in the St. Agatha’s school uniform—a white blouse and a pleated plaid skirt—and she was holding a stack of textbooks like a shield. Her classmates all peeled away, leaving Mary to stand alone. The other girls squealed and jeered at us like monkeys in the zoo. I’d have to shout to be heard over them. Mary looked like she wanted to sink into the ground and disappear.

A nun in a black habit pushed her way through the crowd. She was built like a linebacker, almost as tall as Officer Tackleberry but dressed in a black tunic and a black belt and black orthopedic shoes. “What is this? What’s happening here?” I didn’t answer, so she turned to Mary. “Miss Zelinsky! Are you talking to these . . . creatures?”

Mary shook her head. “No, Reverend Mother.”

She turned to me, and I couldn’t hold eye contact. I looked down at my filthy sneakers. It was all too much. It had to be a hundred degrees. I was exhausted and hurting and ridiculously thirsty. “All three of you are trespassing on private property. You’re going to follow me to the main office, and we’ll wait for the police.”

I knew what would happen after that. I knew they would cart us back to the police station and my mother would get summoned with another phone call and this time there would be no second chances. There were no more breaks.

“I need to talk to Mary,” I said.

The Reverend Mother’s eyes widened. “Did you say something? Are you actually speaking to me?”

“Can we please have five minutes of privacy?”

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