Page 101 of The Sebastian Guarantee
“Welcome to Stratlin Public High School. This is the original building from 1908,” Clem explained, gesturing to the two-story, red brick building with a bell tower.
Phoebe drank in the charming structure as Clem got the door. “We won’t be interrupting the school day, will we?”
Amaryllis shook her head. “School got out an hour ago. The kids who are still here stay for clubs and sports.”
Phoebe studied the space. To the naked eye, there was nothing overtly grand about it. White tiles on the floor. Navy blue lockers with nicks and scrapes lining the hall. But to her, it was as if she’d stepped back in time. Her mother had walked through this very door. She’d graced the halls. A warmth filled her chest. She didn’t remember much about her mother, but at that moment, a memory long tucked away resurfaced, and she could hear the woman’s laughter—that sweet, rhythmic flow like water through a babbling brook.
She exhaled a slow breath when she caught movement in her peripheral vision.
A round woman with her dark hair in a bun headed toward them. “Clem, Amaryllis,” the lady called and waved a file in her hand. “I was about to give you a ring.”
“How can we help, Sue?” Clem asked.
The woman blew a stray hair out of her face and opened the file. “We’ve been having trouble finding the paperwork for when the boiler was last replaced. It has to be going on fifteen or twenty years. I need to check the warranty. I thought it was with the maintenance paperwork, but I can’t find it. Can you spare a few minutes to check the files with me?”
“Absolutely,” Clem replied.
“Phoebe,” Amaryllis said and touched her arm. “Why don’t you take a look around? Get a feel for where your mother went to school. We’ll catch up with you after we’ve got Sue sorted.”
“Sure, no hurry,” Phoebe replied, grateful to have a few moments to herself. The last ten minutes had turned into quite a whirlwind, yet there was something calming and familiar about the place.
Clem and Amaryllis went in one direction, and Phoebe meandered down the other, listening as the trio’s footsteps against the tile flooring faded. She adjusted her tote on her shoulder. Drawing her fingertips along the row of lockers, she made her way down the hall. She couldn’t help but remember her high school days. Aria and Oscar were involved in the arts. They’d shared a locker near the auditorium, while she and Sebastian had their locker home base near the computer lab and the library. Those days seemed so long ago.
It had always been the four of them. What would happen now? Were those days over?
She pushed the thought out of her head as she approached a large glassed-in cabinet housing trophies and framed photographs. She surveyed the images of smiling students. From the hairstyles and clothing, many photos looked like they’d been snapped decades ago. She was about to continue walking the halls when she saw a picture of herself. No, not herself. Melanie Funke. She leaned in and read the caption.
Melanie Funke’s hot dog and cookie fundraiser earns thousands for Stratlin High.
“Hi, Mom,” she whispered and pressed her hand against the glass.
She stared at the woman—a woman she knew through photographs, stories, and video clips. She studied the photo. The resemblance was uncanny. They even wore similar black-framed glasses. She slid her gaze from her mom and peered at the entire composition. Her mother wasn’t the only one in the shot. Four women were with her, two on each side, smiling at the luminous Melanie Funke. Phoebe narrowed her gaze as she scanned the others in the shot. Had she seen them before?
“Eloise,” came a girl’s voice from a classroom down the hallway. “I found another application for the Munch Match code. Look, it works for narrowing down college choices. Boy, do I need that.”
Phoebe froze. Whoever that was, they were talking about her software.
“It’s got to be what we thought, Shelby,” came another girl’s voice. “The application weighs each question, and the artificial intelligence written into the algorithm becomes more attuned to the user after each use.”
Tiptoeing down the corridor, Phoebe followed the sound of the girls’ voices to the computer lab, then peered in through the half-open door.
“It doesn’t matter what the user is trying to narrow down. The algorithm is always learning and adjusting. That’s why I think people are meeting their love matches, but it requires the user to answer eight or more questions. Everything we tried with eight or more questions has homed in on a match. Less than that, and the program doesn’t evolve.”
Holy teenage hackers!These kids had thwarted her security protocols, hacked into Munch Match, and discovered the secret behind her algorithm. They’d done what she hadn’t been able to do.
Slack-jawed and still undetected by the high school lady hackers, Phoebe stood in the doorway, observing the girls. Eloise had auburn curls in a high ponytail, and Shelby sported a dark swath of jagged bangs that brushed against the frames of her glasses. Seated side by side on a giant hot pink bean bag near a bank of windows that looked out onto an empty sports field, each girl had a laptop propped against their legs.
Eloise turned to her fellow hacker. “Do you think Phoebe Gale knows this?”
Phoebe couldn’t stop herself. She burst into the room. “Phoebe Gale absolutely doesn’t know this.”
The girls shrieked and sprang to their feet. Shelby lost her glasses in the movement melee.
“You’re Phoebe Gale! Oh my God, it’s you,” Eloise blathered. Her eyes looked ready to pop out of her head. “Are we in trouble? Are the police here or the FBI? Do you think they’ll let us go to homecoming before they lock us up?”
Phoebe raised her hands defensively, then lowered herself to the ground and retrieved Shelby’s glasses. “Here,” she said, slipping them on the girl’s face.
The kid squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want to see the FBI storm the room. Eloise, my mom is totally going to take away my phone. We’re sorry we hacked Munch Match, Miss Gale. We were just messing around.”
