It all started three years ago when I was accepted to The Woodward School in Keene, New Hampshire. I was eleven years old then, and living down in Nashua. This meant a forty-minute commute, which my parents grudgingly agreed to after much deliberation on both parts. It has always been a dream of mine to go into computers, though I rarely volunteered this information. Woodward seemed like the logical place to go to for a technology education. It boasted the finest, newest computer facility in the state. When I spent a day there, it seemed to live up to its reputation. Rows and rows of the finest Macintoshes and Dells straight off the assembly line in the lab, and computers in almost every classroom. After a small Nashua public school, Woodward seemed like a dream come true. After the novelty wore off, however, I became disillusioned to the fact that Woodward isn't all it was cracked up to be

Antiphase Untold - A short story

Chas Andres

The alarm clock went off at 6:00 signaling the start of the day. I have one of those combination clock/radios that blast music so loud that you're next door neighbor calls up and complains. However, it does wonders in waking me up every morning. With Revolution blaring in the background, I slowly got up and dressed myself. I switched off my Imac that I left on the night before, and yanked my bedroom door open. I than bolted down the stairs for breakfast. I am a morning person, which comes in handy when you commute to Keene every day. I live in a small colonial in a well-off district of Nashua. After my father made his fortune on Apple Computer's stock options, he retired at 30 to this suburb in New Hampshire. He is a tall man, early forties now, and just starting to lose some hair. He met my mother at a Silicon Valley convention, and they fell in love immediately. She has golden blonde hair, and even at the same age as my father, she could pass for ten years younger. She moved to New England with him, and they got married. The rest is history. After gulping down a bowl of Cheerios, I ran out to the garage and hopped into the car where my father was waiting for me. I turned on the radio, and sat back for the long drive to school.

Thirty-nine minutes later, I woke up as the car hit the pothole signaling your arrival in Keene. Today marked the point halfway through seventh grade. With Christmas break fresh in our minds, and exams months away, I was set to enjoy the last few months of school. As we pulled into the gravel drive leading up to the campus, I noticed a new construction sign on one of the white farmhouse-style buildings that make up the school. It seemed that the project to enlarge Woodward's aging meeting hall was going along smoothly. I got out of the car, and said goodbye to my father. He returned the gesture, and I ran into Anderson Hall, the building where my homeroom was located.

On the way into the building, I ran smack into my good friend Ray Adams. He came to Woodward the same year I did, and he has been trying to get out ever since.

"How goes it, Ray?" I asked.

"No problems, but no luck either" Ray muttered.

I decided I didn't want to spend the morning arguing for the reputation of the school, so I said goodbye, and hung a left into room 19, the grade hangout. Inside was the usual crowd of guys. Since Woodward is a single-sex school, there weren't as many qualms about dressing, a situation that was also limited by the strict Woodward dress code. Dave and Jim were on the computer scanning the list of games on Javaboutique. Andy was scanning the latest edition of the Globe, and Jerry was furiously finishing up some unfinished homework in the corner. "Hey Dave! How's it going?" I said.

"Know any cheats for Sub Hunter?" He murmured.

As I proceeded to tell him that he had to jump OVER the giant shark to get the fourth treasure chest, the bell announcing it was time to report to our morning classes sounded a sharp trill.

"Done!" Jerry said as he put the finishing touches on his homework. "Absolute perfection! Best one in the class!" He stowed the paper, and smugly left the room.

"Want to bet he gets the evil eye from Mr. Branson?" I chuckled.

"I wouldn't talk," said Dave. "How have you been doing in his math class?"

"Hey, that last test was no reflection of my ability!" I exclaimed. "Everyone's entitled to a few bad grades!"

"Suit yourself, Steve." He said.

We both walked our separate ways, and headed for our first period class. It was a Wednesday, so I had Math first. As Mr. Branson launched into his 'importance of Arithmetic' speech, I settled back into my chair and nodded off.

Mr. Boyles, head of the Woodward technology department, sat smugly inside of his office. It was locked, bolted, and sealed. The curtains were drawn so nobody could see in. He had a big announcement for all of the kids today, and he couldn't wait. One of the biggest beasts in the school, improper Internet use, was being quelled forever. He had warned them, oh yes, he had warned them. How many announcements had he made about the problem? He had made too many, no doubt about that. Games were not to be played during school hours, and that was that. The other precautions, well, those were to keep anything from happening. He knew he wasn't paranoid, no doubt about that, he was just security minded. It was time to crack down, that was all.

After a kick from Jim jolted me back to consciousness, I oddly noticed that his speech was still going on. I glanced at the clock, which told me over twenty minutes have passed.

"Psst, Jim, how long has he been at it?"

"The whole period. He seems to be winding down. I'd assume you'd want to be awake to see Jerry get it"

At this moment, Mr. Branson started to check homework. He methodically walked between rows and rows of desks, until he stopped right in front of Jerry's desk.

"What do you call this excuse for homework, Mr. Sanders?" Mr. Branson asked.

"P-p-perfection?" stammered Jerry.

"I think you'd better do it over. Look! You answered 'the square root of negative one' for almost every problem!"

"Sorry, Mr. Branson" Jerry said meekly

"Class dismissed." Said Mr. Branson. "Hurry to assembly. Mr. Boyles has a special presentation today."

"I wonder what The Barracuda wants?" Jim asked, using the impish name the students had bestowed on the Head of the Technology Department.

"Probably wants to lecture us on proper Internet use again He's been doing that for weeks, and I still use Javaboutique all the time. It's fun to play games during recess and free periods. I don't see why he is so uptight."

"Doesn't make any sense to me either" Jim agreed.

When they got to Woodward's meeting hall, they noticed a PC laptop hooked up to a projector. The Barracuda was up at the front of the room, along with their Headmaster, Mr. Thomson. I hurriedly took a seat next to Dave as the Headmaster called the meeting to order.

"Welcome to assembly on this bright Wednesday morning." Mr. Thomson jovially exclaimed. "We have a special treat today, in that Mr. Boyles will be making a technology presentation. I'll just turn it over to him then. Mr. Boyles?"

"Hello students!" A straight-faced Mr. Boyles said to his bored audience.

"Hello Barracuda" I said under my breath, just loud enough for Dave to hear it, and break the silence with some muffled laughter.

"Ahem. Well, lets continue. Run the projector, please." He asked.

What was broadcasted onto the wall of Woodward's meeting hall was the most horrific document that either Dave or myself had ever seen ­ A document limiting Internet usage to a few specific web sites that he deemed educational. It limited sites such as Yahoo and Excite from use, and I had a sneaking suspicion Javaboutique was not on the approved list either.

As he delved into explaining this agreement, it was much worse than I feared. External Email accounts are banned. Online stock trading is banned. The same with Java sites and auction sites. To make matters worse, he said he had more plans that he posted on his web page. I sat rigid in my seat, trying to fathom all of this.

As I looked over to Dave, he seemed to be just as shocked. In fact, the entire hall was filled with a ghastly silence. After a few minutes of this, people started to voice their complaints.

"This is just too much!"

"I'll die if I can't check my email"

"You better reimburse me if Ebay goes public during school hours!"

"I'll never get the fourth treasure chest!"

"Heck, I'll never even get to the second treasure chest!"

This went on until a sweating, flustered, Mr. Thomson walked up to the front of the room and called for silence.

"Uh, thanks for the wonderful presentation, Mr. Boyles." He said. "I'm sure we'll all look forward to these changes to take place."

"But they already have! Changes effective immediately!" Mr. Boyles smugly stated.

"Meeting dismissed!" Mr. Thomson said as he made his way to his seat from the side of the room. This obviously came as a surprise for him, too, as he wiped the sweat off his forehead and sat down. We, of course, ran right to room 19.

When we got there, most of us were too stunned to say much of anything. Jerry was the only one who seemed unfazed, as he was too busy finishing up his English homework. Dave, Jim, and I were just sitting on the table staring into oblivion, waiting for someone to come pinch us, so we would wake up from this nightmare. Andy seemed to be the only one who was acting irrationally.

"He's already blocked my portfolio!" Andy shouted. "What if Juniper Networks announces bad earnings? I'll never be able to sell out. What if the Russians secretly amass thousands of warheads and fire them at us? WHO'S GONNA KNOW?"

"Calm down, Andy." Jim said blandly. "I'm sure the barracuda's got enough surveillance equipment in his lair to stop so much as a bird from flying over Woodward undetected."

"He's so paranoid." I added. He's got a digital lock on the door to his lair; curtains cover the windows blocking all signs of life. He's probably got the entire school wired with monitoring devices."

"Maybe He's in league with the Russians! Maybe he's storing warheads underneath Woodward until the time is right. And then...BAM!" Andy added with a flourish.

"Now who's the one being paranoid?" Dave said. "The only thing he's done wrong is to censor our Internet connection. Let's not get too overworked."

"Dave's right." I agreed. "Let's check his website. He's probably got some helpful plans on there to make our life easier. He might even be buying some new Macintoshes! Ours are getting a little old."

The four of us went over to one of the computers, and logged onto Mr. Boyles' website.

--------The Woodward School Tech Plan ­ Goals------

Make technology an essential tool for students/teachers

Achieve a 1:2 ratio of computers per students in the classroom

Establish the number of computers needed in a cluster classroom during the transition time needed to achieve the 2:1 ratio.

Complete phaseout of the Macintosh platform in a specified timeline (proposed 1 year)

We read the last line, rubbed our eyes in disbelief, and reread the line again.

"HeHe can't do that! I choked. "That's not fair! I can't use a PC here and a Mac at home! I'll never be compatible!

"He can't control what platform I use! This is an outrage!" Dave yelled.

"What about me?" wined Jim. "I can't even use a PC without crashing it!"

"He'sHe's a Nazi! A Computer Nazi!" I said.

"Yeah." Said Dave. Like in Seinfeld. No Mac for you! He joked. "So, like, what do we do? I'm not about to run out and buy a PC."

"We fight." I said. "The agreement was bad, but this just goes too far."

"Um. Maybe I should remind you that he's a teacher?" Dave suggested. "It's not like we can go up to his lair and say 'Hit the road barracuda, we hate your stupid plan."

"Well we'll just have to be more subtle, won't we?" I said.

We were left mulling this over as the bell rang summoning us to our next class.

Mr. Boyles was again in his office, this time with the air vents blocked as well. He was basking in the glory of his extremely successful presentation. He wasn't at all worried about Thomson's reaction. After all, he was only the headmaster. A mere figurehead, while he himself was poised at the edge of conforming the network to fit his master plan. Yes, it would finally happen. A school devoid of Macs, improper Internet use, and worst of all, misuse of paper! He could only hope that no one discovered the Mac phaseout plan yet. If someone found it, and they struck to early, the results could be disastrous. Oh well. There was nothing he could do but sit back and wait

After a few grueling classes, the lunch hour finally came. I rushed over to see if Dave came up with anything, when Ray stopped me in the hall.

"Hey man" said Ray. "Figure out how to bust the barracuda yet?"

"How do you know about that?" I gasped in amazement.

"Let me tell you something, man. There ain't nothing here worth knowing that Ray don't already know" Ray said matter-of-factly. "I think I might be able to help you."

"You can help me?" I leaned forward in excitement. "Why? What's it to you?"

"Well," Ray said with an impish grin, "The one thing that I just cannot seem to do is bust this joint. I've had it up to here with Woodward since day one. My parents won't let me leave, and graduation is still years away. This leads me to try some of what you might call 'drastic measures'. However, try as I might, Woodward seems determined to keep me here for the next few years. Here's where you come in. We formulate a plan good enough to get me out of Woodward post-haste. If it works, I'll play my trump, and bye-bye Barracuda. If it doesn't, I'll be no less off than where I was before. Deal?"

"Deal." I nervously accepted with a brief handshake.

We both walked off to the lunch room in silence.

While waiting in the lunch line, dreading the spinach noodles that lay just a few minutes in my future, Dave came up to me with a giant grin on his face.

"Hey Steve!" Dave yelled. "I got a great plan! Come on, let's go outside."

"Sure!" I agreed, not really that hungry for the soggy noodles anyway.

We walked outside, and sneaked around the corner of the building to the tree where we usually meet during lunch. Technically, this spot was out-of-bounds, but I'm sure Dave's plan wasn't going to be within the rules either, so getting busted for skipping lunch was the least of my problems.

"Okay" Dave began. "Did you see the look on Thomson's face after The Barracuda's presentation? He seemed even more surprised than us! All we have to do is get it through his head that some students need Macs, and he can override Boyles. Anyway, we can get the jump on this thing. We shoot it down before it gets off the ground, and everyone goes home happy."

I told him about my meeting with Ray, to no avail. He seemed rock solid in going through with his plan, and, with my own reservations about, I had to agree with him.

"What about the censoring of the Internet? We still have to get around that." I replied.

"Steve. Think about it. Without Macs, would you go onto the Internet as much?"

I could find no flaw in that logic, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Anyway," he added, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Rome wasn't destroyed in a day." With that, he walked back to the dining hall, leaving me to face Ray alone. It was then that I decided that we should have a back up plan, in case Thomson isn't as sympathetic as Dave thinks. I would put off Ray until we arrange a meeting, and then decide what to do. Dave wouldn't have to know a thing.

Somewhere, deep in the bowels of the administration building, Mr. Thomson sat musing over the presentation that Mr. Boyles made earlier. He himself had no problems with games being played during the appropriate times, but Mr. Boyles seemed to be more educated on the subject, so his word was a good as any expert. If Mr. Boyles thinks that games are taking the place of educational research, than he would have to take Boyles' word for it. As for the other restrictions, there didn't seem to be much need for them, but Boyles was the expert, so they must be important. He had heard about a plan to phase out Macs that was passed by the previous headmaster the year before, but no one had moved on it yet. He wondered if there was some deep connection. He made a mental note to check Boyles' web site later to see what other changes he was planning.

The rest of the day went normally. Jim crashed the PC he was using in Science class, Jerry was busted for his English homework, and Andy was sent to detention after he had another doomsday outburst in Social Studies. It wasn't until after school that I remembered my deal with Ray.

"Hey! Ray!" I yelled, trying to get his attention. Finally, he came over to me, and after his usual greeting, I probed into the aspects of his scheme.

"So you see," Said Ray, "I can be the carrier of all your dirty work. You spearhead the campaign against The Barracuda from the sidelines, and I'll be the sacrifice. If I don't get caught and expelled, Boyles will be. If that happens, Ill turn myself in, and get a one way ticket out of this garbage dump."

"Sounds great." I said, with a hint of sarcasm. "But I was always curious. Why do you hate Woodward so much? Even with all of its problems, it's still a great school."

"It's just a lot of little problems." He elaborated. "The food stinks, the contests are rigged against upperclassmen, and the mandatory sports are awful. I just can't handle it anymore, man!"

Wondering what kind of sheltered home life he had, I just smiled and nodded my head. I told him that I'd meet him tomorrow to discuss ideas, and I nonchalantly walked out to my waiting car. I hopped in, and fell asleep again. It had been a long day.

A few days passed without much new development. I met with Ray a few times, but nothing was formulated. Dave delayed the meeting with Mr. Thomson, due to his own fear in meeting with the most foreboding figure at Woodward. We learned to live with the censorship, spurring fierce political debates during our free time. In fact, it wasn't until the following Friday when we got our courage up enough to arrange a meeting with Mr. Woodward.

"Are you sure we should go through with this?" Dave asked. "I mean, it's not as if he can flip a switch and override The Barracuda's imperial decree."

"You forget. He's the headmaster. He could pull a few strings, and change anything he wants. That's the way he is." I put in.

We walked into the administration building, and were directed into a part of the building we had never been before. The walls were painted a bluish-green unlike any seen in the rest of the school. The windows were all wide open, unusual for early February. Uniforms from Woodward teams a century prior hung on the wall between the windows. As we made it to the end of the hallway, we knocked on the large door marked: H.M. Thomson ­ Headmaster.

"Come in!" He beckoned from behind the closed door.

We opened the door, and entered his office. It was musty, and filled with cases and cases of ancient books from a prior civilization. There was a large Woodward Flag draped on the wall, flanked by two golden colored eagles. Mr. Thomson himself was sitting in a large executive-style chair behind one of the largest desks either of us had ever seen.

"What seems to be the problem?" Mr. Thomson asked.

"Well." Dave started, "We were very concerned about the proposal that I read on Mr. Boyles' web site dealing with the elimination of Macs from Woodward. We were wondering if you could, you know, call it off?" He said with a sheepish grin.

The headmaster's face grew grave. "That decision was made last year, and it was not made by me. The school has made a commitment to go to one platform, and, quite frankly, more people use PC's than Macs. We did research that showed running two platforms was more expensive. The school had to cut back on this unnecessary expense."

"What about people who use Macs at home?" I asked.

"We can deal with some sort of compatibility program if we need to after the phaseout. That's the way it will have to be. Good day, gentlemen." He added, as if almost an afterthought.

While I had expected the conversation to end this way, I looked over at Dave. He seemed both surprised and enraged. As we walked back to class, I cold see his anger boiling up inside, his face turning a bright color of magenta.

"I can't believe he did that! I was so sure he'd understand! Now what are we going to do?"

"There's always Ray" I suggested.

I ducked into a nearby doorway where my next class was going to be held, and listened to his ranting in the distance.

"We can have petitions!" He yelled. "And demonstrations! We can have a picket rally and boycott all the PC's!"

As his voice faded into the distance I was already thinking about what to say to Ray.

Knowing Dave all too well, I decided to meet with Ray at the end of the day. As the giant bell in the Woodward bell tower struck Four PM, Ray walked slowly out of he building and towards the statue at the center of the courtyard where I was presently waiting.

"Hey Ray." I said.

"Guess your meeting with Thomson didn't go so well, eh?

I started to ask how he knew about our meeting, but I figured that it would get me nowhere. "You called that one. Dave declared war on the entire school, and he's off ranting and raving over petitions and demonstrations. Right now, I think that you might be able to help us. Have you come up with a plan?"

"Of course I have." Ray said. "It's quite simple, really"

It was just another typical day in the life of Woodward's technical director. That moronic seventh grader, Jim, had crashed another PC in science class, causing him another few hours of work. Another kid had printed seventy pages of code of the Internet without putting his name on it, causing a horrendous waste of paper. However, his phaseout plan was working like a charm. No one seemed to have caught on, giving him the upper hand, why he could knock out all the Macs next month, if this kept up!

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" He cried.

"There's a printer jam! The printer is printing pages and pages of code! Hurry!"

Mr. Boyles streaked out the door and ran around the corner. "Where is it?" He cried.

"I fixed it!" cried Ray from over by the main printer.

"Humph." Mr. Boyles said. "Be more careful in the future."

He walked back over to the entrance to his office, and typed in the five-digit combination to the lock. Unbeknownst to all except Ray and I, My video camera was sitting on top of a nearby bookcase, taping the code. When The Barracuda entered his lair, and all was again quiet.

"We did it!" I exclaimed. I walked over, and picked up the camera. "Let's see The code is 1-2-3-4-5. Can you get more obvious than that?"

"Alright" Said Ray. "Call Dave tonight, and get him in on the deal. Fill him in on the plan, and let him know we move tomorrow night. Catch you around!" He added as we walked our separate ways.

After watching a thrilling episode of The Simpsons, I called up Dave to fill him in on the plan. "Hey Dave!" I said

"I was just about to call you! Tomorrow we plan a schoolwide protest rally! We're going to take a pile of PC's, and explode them in front of the administration building! We can throw more off the roof, and refuse to surrender until all our demands have been met!"

"Um, what would you say if I told you that I got The Barracuda's password?" I smugly stated.

"I'd probably say you were nuts, because the only copy of his code is already kept in his lair, where you can't get it anyway. Why? What're you getting at?"

"I taped it."

"You WHAT?"

"I hooked up my camcorder, and taped the password." I said.

"Steve! Do you realize what we can do with this? We can crash the network! We can get our student records! We can"

"Load incriminating evidence onto his computer?" I finished.

"Yeah! We can do that too. But why would we want to?" Save asked.

"Remember the dean of The Divinity School down in Boston? Caught him with pornography on his computer. A few weeks later, goodbye Dean!"

"I like it but don't you think it's a little risky? What if we get caught in The Barracuda's lair after school? The repercussions would be quick and severe."

"That's the beauty of the plan." I said. "Ray is willing to take all the risk. He's even willing to get expelled over this. In fact, he's eager to help us!"

"Great! I'll go get us some 'incriminating evidence', and we initiate Operation Upload tomorrow night."

"Bye Dave." I said, and I turned off the light.

I lay in bed for an hour, but I just couldn't get to sleep. I dismissed it as anxiety over what we were going to do the coming day. I couldn't understand why I was even a little bit anxious over this. I was sure that Mr. Boyles was an unjust man who doesn't deserve the job he has. At the same time, however, I still feel that framing an innocent man is wrong. After fierce self-deliberation, I eventually decided that framing a man was okay, if he was evil, so I promptly fell asleep.

The next day, the classes seemed to creep by slower than they ever have before. The reason for this was obvious - I still hadn't come to terms with myself for the crime we were about to commit. Every math problem seemed to drag by as if it was the last second before a nuclear blast, and every paragraph we read in English seemed like a novel. Dave, however, seemed extremely calm. He seemed like he was much more worried about the upcoming Latin test than Operation Upload. When I tried to approach him to discuss the plan, he just waved a disk at me, and left. What worried me most, however, was that Ray was nowhere to be found. When lunchtime finally came, I was ready to call it off. The plan was much too risky. Besides the fact that what we were doing was completely illegal, I wasn't sure Mr. Boyles deserved this type of punishment. When I told Dave how I was feeling, however, he seemed hurt.

"Look, man." Dave began. "This was your idea, and a damn good one at that. You want to get rid of The Barracuda forever, here's your chance. We can't get caught because no one's around Woodward at that time of night. If you want out, say so now, and I'll do it myself ­ but you know that would be a coward's way out."

I gulped, and nervously looked away. "I'll be there." I said.

That night, after school was dismissed for the day, Dave and I met inside one of the stalls in the Fourth Grade bathroom. "Have you seen Ray?" I asked.

"Chill out. He'll be here. He's just late." Dave replied.

Suddenly, I heard heavy footsteps in the distance. They sounded like they were coming this way. It seemed to be someone a lot older and bigger than Ray.

"No Have you seen Ray all day?" I clarified.

"Now that you mention itI haven't!" Dave exclaimed! "Do you think this is a setup?"

The footsteps got even louder, and it now sounded like it was more than one person coming towards them. The sounds that reverberated off the bathroom wall quickly became almost deafening, as if an army was approaching.

"I don't know" I replied. "I have a bad feeling about this"

At this moment, Ray came bounding indo the bathroom, with a huge grin on his face. "Hi guys!" He said.

"Whew!" I exclaimed. "How can you make all that noise?"

"Oh. I have my steel-soled paratrooper boots on." Ray explained. "Do you have the evidence?" He asked Dave.

"Right here on this floppy disk. A medley of stuff, all guaranteed to kick The Barracuda out for good."

"Where were you all day?" I sharply inquired.

"Oh. I just wanted to make sure no one caught wind of our plan, so I cut class." He said.

"Enough talk." Said Dave. "Let's move."

Silently, the three boys crept down the hallway towards Mr. Boyles' office. When they made it to the lair, I quietly entered the combination that I had stolen the day before, and braced myself for the noticeable trill of the warning alarm. None came, however, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the small beep of recognition that the door was unlocked. Dave opened the door, and we crept inside.

"This must be the server." I whispered, pointing at a large, humming box in the middle of the room. "Let's upload the data quickly, and leave the rest to Ray."

"Sounds good." Dave whispered back. "I'm a little anxious about all this."

We crept over to the lone monitor, its light acting as a beacon of hope. It seemed to signify the good in the world, a good that we were currently attempting to blip out of existence. As we inserted Dave's disk into the machine, I looked around. Something was wrong, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. Dave was there, over by the monitor, transferring files onto the mainframe. The door was slightly ajar, the way we left it, a minute, or an eternity, ago. And Ray. where was Ray? My heart skipped a beat.

"Dave!" I said in my loudest whisper. "Ray's gone!"

"He is?" Dave exclaimed, with fear in his heart. "Where did he go?"

We both wheeled around just in time to see the light outside turn on in a blinding flash. Ray was standing in the doorway, casting a foreboding shadow across the room behind him.

"You Bastard!" Dave yelled, before being cut off by Mr. Boyles and Mr. Thomson, who suddenly appeared out of the shadows.

"We're Dead." I meekly exclaimed.

Dave agreed.

The next twenty minutes were the longest in my life, and I assumed that Dave had the same feeling. We were interrogated, probed, and generally hassled. Mr. Thomson inquired on every aspect of what we did. It was pointless to lie, as Ray, the organizer of the sting, filled in most of the details during the previous day. Mr. Boyles stood on Mr. Thomson's side, looking as smug as someone who had just caught Jessie James or Al Capone.

"What I am trying to understand" Mr. Thomson went on. "Is why were you trying to frame Mr. Boyles in the first place? Why would you risk expulsion to keep Macintoshes at this school?"

At this point, it was useless to argue. We explained to Mr. Thomson about the phaseout plan, and how angry it made us. When we were done, we both knew he was right. What we did was wrong, not to mention incredibly stupid. By the time he thought that he explained that thoroughly, it was almost midnight, and we were dismissed.

"However," Mr. Thomson added, "I'll see you two in my office tomorrow morning ­ eight AM sharp"

Having made previous plans to spend the night at Dave's house, we both dejectedly walked outside and down the road towards his house. Halfway there, Ray jumped out of the shadows, and started talking to us.

"Look man, I'm sorry." Ray said. "I was busted for smoking pot a few days before the plan. They told me I could stay if I helped them frame you guys. What could I do? When expulsion stares you in the face, you realize how much you like this place."

"I know" Dave said. "Now we're facing the music, while you go free. Seems kind of unfair"

"Life's not fair" Ray simply said.

"One thing bother's me, though." I said. "How did Mr. Thomson know about our plan?"

"The Barracuda doesn't have all of that surveillance equipment for nothing" Ray said. "He knew about your little plan before you talked to me about it. He's smarter than you give him credit for."

"Let's go, Dave." I said. "I've got an idea."

Dave and I walked down the street to his house, and went inside. Ray kept going into the darkness. Dave's parents were already asleep, so I turned on the small flashlight that I brought, and relayed my plan to Dave. Once we had it ready, and fell asleep on the couch, it was almost 3 AM.

The next morning, we were bleary eyed, weary, and extremely nervous. When we walked out of Dave's house and down the road, I had the necessary equipment in my backpack. Our inventory consisted of: a cassette recorder, a typewritten note, and a stamped, addressed, envelope. We knew that if this plan didn't work, we'd never see Woodward again, so we left nothing to chance. As we walked onto the campus, I got out the necessary equipment. I gave the envelope to Dave, put the recorder in my pocket, and palmed the note. We walked over to Anderson Hall, and looked for Ray. The clock in Room Nineteen read 7:48 AM.

We suddenly spotted him, leaning on a water fountain, and decided that it was time for an all-or-nothing shot. I switched on the tape recorder in my pocket, and ran over to Ray, waving the note. "Ray!" I yelled at the top of my lungs. "Have you heard the news? You've been expelled!"

Ray couldn't seem to fathom this. "What?" Ray yelled, "Let me see that note!" Ray grabbed the note, and started off on the rant that would be our key to freedom. "Those administration jerks promised me asylum after I sold you guys out! What the hell is this? I perform a legitimate sting, and suddenly they reverse it on me! I'm going to give them a piece of my mind!" He screamed.

I flashed the thumbs-up signal to Dave, and we ran along behind him. The cassette player was still recording when we got to the administration building. Ray ran into Mr. Thomson's office, and started screaming about the note, and the operation. We were positioned outside his open door, so every word was audible. What we really wanted, however, was Mr. Thomson's response. When it finally came, we were extremely relieved.

"I don't know what to say, Ray." Mr. Thomson began. "The deal was supposed to be hush-hush, and secretive. I only had you in this to get rid of those troublemakers, and I never gave out any note. It's a fake."

This was our queue to enter his office, and we did so brandishing the cassette recorder as if it were a revolver. "Hey Mr. Thomson!" I said. "Thanks for the testimonial! Dave, hand me the envelope."

Dave handed me the envelope, addressed to the board of trustees, and I put the cassette tape inside.

"Um" Mr. Thomson began, "Maybe we can work something out. You see, I like my job, and"

"Enough talk." I said. "I think that we all like our jobs, including, Ray, Dave, and I."

"Finefine" he said, knowing he was beat. "You can all stay."

"Hooray!" Dave yelled, punching the air. "No expulsion!"

"Not so fast." I exclaimed, grabbing Dave by the collar. "There's something else that should stay at Woodward, too. I think you know what I'm talking about."

"Well the phaseout plan was adopted by Mr. Boyles" Mr. Thomson said. "And I doubt if I can change his mind."

"That's fine, Mr. Thomson." I said. "Have you seen a mailbox around here?"

"Okay, okay" He said. "You can have your stinking Macs! Now, give me the tape!"

"Fine." I said, and handed him the tape. "Have a good day, Mr. Thomson. I've got a class to attend." As we walked out the door, I saw Mr. Thomson breath a sigh of relief, and collapse into his huge leather chair.

"We did it!" Dave yelled. "We pulled it off! I can't believe your harebrained plan actually worked!"

I could hardly believe it myself. One moment, we were facing expulsion and certain death at home, and the next moment we were being told that not only could we stay at Woodward, but the Macs would stay too! Yes, there were great days ahead. As we walked into room 19, I noticed that Javaboutique was up on all the computers! Did Mr. Thomson repeal the censorship as well?

"Guess what!" Andy said. "I broke the code on the proxy server! I can buy stocks again!"

I smiled as I saw Jim's character get eaten by the shark just before the second treasure chest. I laughed, and started thinking that some things will just never change.

Mr. Boyles was in his office finishing up an order form for new PC's when the phone call came. Mr. Thomson had put in an order to Apple for ten new Imacs! When Mr. Boyles asked him about this, Mr. Thomson just said that he had no choice in the matter. Oh well. At least his precious printing paper would be conserved. His Internet censorship would get stricter, and he might even toughen up on file sharing, too! Oh yes, there are great days ahead for him, as well.

That night, I went home and switched on my computer. As I waited for it to boot up, I thought about how close I had come to getting by life ruined forever. Was it worth it? Even though we happened to win in the end, there was no guarantee it would happen next time. I then made an oath to decided to play it safe for a while, maybe join a sports team, or take up a musical instrument. When I got online, I noticed my email light flash. Odd, I thought to myself. When I opened it up, I saw a message from Dave in my high priority folder. It read:

Hey, Steve!

I looked on The Barracuda's web site, and it said that they were going to start banning laptops and palm pilots from school! This is an outrage! Tomorrow, you bring in your laptop, and we can have a protest rally in front of administration!

See You Then,

Dave

I smiled, and put the message in my trashcan. Dave would have to protest on his own from now on.