The Octopus Effect by Michael Reisman Page B

waited.
    â€œThat was not pleasant,” she said in her clipped British accent. “It was hard enough arranging my transfer to Martin Van Buren Elementary last May and to Enrico Fermi Junior High this September. But a third move a month later? I’ll be hearing about this from the PTA, I have no doubt.”
    Miss Fanstrom clapped her hands and smiled warmly at the three friends. “No use weeping and wailing though, is there? Mr. Bloom, Mr. Walters, Miss Davis, it’s a pleasure to see you all again. I’m guessing you have questions for me, yes?”
    Simon cleared his throat. “Yes. We haven’t seen you since you sent us to see our Narrator five months ago.”
    Alysha folded her arms. “Every time—every single time—we went to your office to talk to you, you were mysteriously off school grounds or in a meeting!”
    â€œWait-Enrico-Fermi-Junior-High-in-Stoneridge?” Owen asked in a verbal blur.
    The top of Miss Fanstrom’s hair swiveled toward Owen. “As always, Mr. Walters, your powers of observation are only outshone by your rate of self-expression.”
    â€œAre there Union members in Stoneridge coming to get us?”
    â€œAh, and then there’s your capacity for needless worrying. No, Mr. Walters, though you have many dangers to face, that is not one of them. Allow me to explain.”
    In her calm yet crisp voice, punctuated by the top of her hair periodically shifting its aim from one youth to the next, Miss Fanstrom recapped what they already knew—how, five months ago, the Council of Sciences was unable to remove Sirabetta’s ruined tattoos. The Board was unwilling to overlook her crimes, but since she was trapped as a thirteen-year-old girl they found it easiest to try to give her a fresh start.
    The Order of Psychology erased her memories, and she was put into foster care, placed in the next town so the Order of Physics could keep an eye on her. Willoughby Wanderby volunteered to be the point person on this. His discipline as a gym teacher made him seem a good choice, especially since his battle with Simon and friends in the previous Chronicle was believed to be a complete misunderstanding.
    Miss Fanstrom went on to explain how Sirabetta was treated at school, as well as how the kids’ former gym teacher freed her.
    â€œSo Mr. Wanderby was really a bad guy all along,” Alysha said.
    Owen nodded. “That explains all the laps we had to run.”
    Simon, again without thinking, rested his hand on the flap of his backpack. “Okay, what now? Is the Order of Physics going after them? The whole Union?”
    Miss Fanstrom frowned. “I wish it were so simple. Any official Union action requires authorization from the Board of Administration. Ordinarily the Board is slow to do anything—they have so many procedures—but for several months now they’ve been positively glacial.” She paused. “In fact, I’ve noticed many rather peculiar things about them lately.” She shook her head—hair unmoving—as if to dismiss a thought. “Besides, we can’t be certain they even know. Or the Council, either.”
    â€œWhat?” shouted Alysha. “Why not?”
    â€œBecause Mr. Wanderby is the one who would report such a thing,” Miss Fanstrom said. “As far as most know, all is well.”
    Simon sat down on the nearest bleacher seat. “ You know. You and Greygor.”
    Miss Fanstrom nodded sadly. “Yes, we do. But there are rules for these things.”
    â€œForget the rules—our lives are in danger!” Alysha yelled, kicking the bleachers.
    Miss Fanstrom wagged her finger. “Tut, tut, Miss Davis. Behave yourself! You are a young lady—I expect better self-control.” She looked away, and her tower of hair wobbled. “I understand your fury; I truly do. But everyone, even Keepers and principals, has restrictions.”
    â€œIt’s not just