text: "I've got it."
  
  Because we are in the library, I am required to hiss my words, which is kind of annoying. But at least it's not as bad a place for a meet-up as it used to be, which is great, 'cause the weather outside sucks this morning. But ever since our Battle-Axe-of-Books, Mrs. Stewart, took a leave of absence, and our replacement librarian arrived, complete with a super-cool, blue-tipped undercut fade, and at least a half dozen earrings posted through the ear on the shaved side of her head, the library has acquired a whole new vibe.
  
  But still not one that says, don't mind me, go ahead and shout. So, I first eye-checked everyone, making sure I had their complete and undivided attention, which allowed me, despite my having to hiss, to winningly convey an appropriate sense of triumph.
  
  Self-satisfied, I sit back.
  
  "Uhm, Sid," Vikram looks across at me and plasters a smile on his face, "as much as I am sure you are completely right about this new theory of yours, you do know we have a robot to build."
  
  The theory he is referring to would be the one I finally solidified last night by going back to the obvious. Only one high-level player got ripped off. And the rip-off artist, holding that player's stuff, keeps hanging about, yet the only thing we really know about him is he has crafted a mah-jongg tile that begs for help in Chinese.
  
  "I got here by just laying out and staying with what we actually know." I focus directly at Vikram. "The old KISS, or keep it simple, stupid. If you don't extrapolate or theorize anything, the linear train leads you to, Hey Vik, now that I have your attention, I need help.
  
  "Which, given he has all your stuff, would really seem to mean, hey Vik, I need your help."
  
  I let my eyes roam about again, giving him time to think this through as I continue. "So yes. I think this is actually personal. I think tile-boy isn't answering us because he needs Vik for some reason. And the problem is, since tile-boy has all your stuff, we can't rely on getting you through the game without wasting a lot of time. And even if we could, what would that actually change other than you could get inside the cave?"
  
  I glance to the wall clock. Twelve minutes until the first bell.
  
  "So I think we shortcut this by getting ourselves into the cave, and leaving a message. Something along the lines of, if he wants to meet you, you will be in the emergency room tomorrow at ten."
  
  I hear Imani laugh, but it's actually Ari who asks, "Really, Sid? The emergency room? Again?"
  
  Less than ten minutes left, but I slow down long enough to give a laugh, and answer. "Funny one, Ari. It's one of the dungeons. In this particular game, to gain access to this dungeon, you have to be a level twenty or higher, which Vik, Jimmy, Ze and yes, even me, are. Vik doesn't need to be playing to hang out there, we only need his ranking, so his not having antidotes or power-ups or whatever won't matter. We just cruise in, hang and wait."
  
  Jimmy is doing his I'm-just-evaluating-chair-tipping-thing, which stops as he rocks forward. "And you figured all this how?"
  
  The correct answer would be this all came to me last night, right after Mom's question about "doing" this the hard way echoed in my head for a good fifteen minutes.
  
  Somehow, in the middle of spinning my story I'd actually forgotten that I was using Ze as a cover story for an important question I didn't want to answer. Ironically my cover story uncovered a voice telling me that I am actually annoyed or perturbed, or maybe just a bit hurt, over now feeling set up.
  
  So I kept turning the silence of Imani over in my mind repeatedly, asking myself why, if not before, then at least when we were standing there freezing our derrières off, she didn't say anything about Fenny now being Ze. Was it about me? Was it about her? Was it about Ze?
  
  And this kept going on a loop right up until it occurred to me I didn't need to do this the hard, introspective way. I could just call her or text her, or wait until tomorrow, definitely the better choice, and just ask her if never having mentioned the whole Fenny-is-now-Ze thing was somehow personal ...and then ...it just kind of flipped like a light switch and I had it.
  
  The answer to our question is "personal." As in, yes, it is personal. Not, just "personal" regarding Imani, but personal regarding the thief-in-the-game answer as well.
  
  Thus, because it would be way too long and I have no time, I don't bother with Jimmy's question and continue my theory. "I mean, what if we just accept, for just a minute here, that tile-boy is trying to tell us something." And I sit up higher, crossing one leg under me, as I verbally process this out. "Then the question becomes tell us what, right?"
  
  "I compiled all the clues I could find, beginning with the day Vik was ripped off. Now, whoever this is, still appears to be playing a zero sum game. Not selling. Not profiting. Not even engaging in spite of their call for help.
  
  "But yet," and my hands thrust outward, "he's still there." My gestures get both larger and more pointed as I get into it. "And only ever spotted in the one of the three caves that lets you leave a signature, which only lasts until the next person comes in."
  
  It's a tough crowd, but none tougher than Vik, who is still a tad touchy when the Contagion hunt comes up, and the only one among us who really knows gaming. As I gesture larger, he seems to shrink an inch further away. But I am not going to be intimidated.
  
  "The only time he goes into the cave is after anyone else gets in. All he does is erase their name and put his same tile back up. It's as though he is waiting for something, but ..." I pause. I know this is all a bit loose and wonky, but I also know it's pretty darn close. To quote the suddenly omnipresent, and omniscient, Dr. Woodie, overselling here isn't going to help me.
  
  Big raspberry.
  
  Followed by first bell ringing.
  
  Argh. I run my hand through my hair, quickly check each of them. "Look." I try to work this through, pleading with them to follow along, maybe even take a bit of the lead. "I don't know it all exactly, but it's as though he can't let his tile fall into the wrong hands somehow. Kind of like if this was a Scooby episode, the clue would be hidden in, I don't know, disappearing ink."
  
  And by now, we are all rising and I start pacing as I talk, slowing their exit while trying to find the piece I know is missing. "But even if the ink is disappearing, there still is a clue. Which, to me means, whoever he is, he is somehow deliberately trying to communicate something, even as he's hiding it from," I pause, "the wrong hands."
  
  And now I stop, look at everyone. See if any of this has made any impression. But no one is jumping on my bandwagon.
  
  Finally, Imani breaks the silence. "What makes it a he?"
  
  Well that one wasn't on my list of questions. Kind of weird that's what she picked up out of all that. I want to say, got gender on your mind, Imani? But I don't. Mostly because if she does, I can't say as I really blame her. And also, well, because, maybe she doesn't and maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm the one with gender on my mind.
  
  So I mumble back, "Sorry. Nothing. It was generic speak. I don't know. That it's a he. I mean that's what I don't know."
  
  "Look, Sid," Jimmy wades in, "you," he pauses to amend, "we, know nothing. We don't even know for certain that whoever this is speaks either English or Chinese. The tile is a pretty crude overlay. It could have come from anywhere."
  
  Which is absolutely true. But I don't think so. So I just stand here, waiting, until Jimmy sighs. "Okay, we have," he checks his watch, "two minutes left. So what's your thinking?"
  
  Thank you, Mr. Flynn. Still my wingman.
  
  "So glad you asked." I shoot him a grin, but keep talking. "I'm thinking whoever he, or she, is wants something, but for some reason won't use the global chat. So I think we see if said person will meet us in a dungeon."
  
  "Really?" Vik jumps back into the conversation. "And how exactly do you think we manage that?"
  
  And there it is. The moment I have been praying for, the one when someone tees up my question for me. They're thinking they've got you, but it's that exhilarating rush knowing you really just got them. I try not to be too gleeful.
  
  "We set up a raiding party, and we get Ze into the cave. And Ze goes in and leaves behind a signature that gives Vik's game name, time, and place in both Chinese and English."
  
  And with that I wait. The clock tick is practically jumping off the wall into my face, but I wait.
  
  Vik nods first, and with that we all agree, leaving us with only one problem. And as much as I'd like to shrug don't bore me with the details, that unfortunately is not an option.
  
  You see, we aren't enough people to mount a raiding party. We would be Ze, Jimmy and me. If you take Ze away, because Ze has to be poised to get inside, that leaves me and Jimmy, with only one of us having any kind of potential raiding skills. It's a dilemma. But one, the ringing bell shrills, that will have to wait.
  
  Class calls. I make my way down the hallway, avoiding backpacks and late arrivers, heading to my first class. All the while planning how to do this. So I know, as much as I hate this idea, Jean is actually a really good gamer and I can get him and his moron best friend, Aaron, up to speed, which would at least qualify us to be a very minimal raiding party, with four on the corners, and a shot at approaching this with some strategic thinking. And if I threaten them with death, or worse, they will keep their mouths shut.
  
  And thus, head still in my mission, I swagger into AP Calc, where I find Scott and Mae Ann, already there and scarily chatting away, deep in the throes of what is apparently their topic of the day: Which role featured the most kick-ass Charlize Theron? Cipher, Furiosa or Lorraine?
  
  "Hey guys." I grab the chair in front of them and turn around. "I hate to interrupt this incredibly important, and honestly on another day brilliant, discussion, but Mae Ann, I need you for something," which I guess, judging from the reaction from both Mae Ann and Scott, isn't often on my list of things I say. "I mean, if you're up for it?"
  
  The smile is instant, broad, and suspiciously predatory, leaving me feeling uncomfortably like I just became the whipped cream for her dessert.
  
  SFS! Sudden Flashback Syndrome. Ari, over a slice, maybe you'll see why Mae Ann chose to stay on the coding team. OMG. It was a warning. Or at least it should have been. If I'd been paying any attention.
  
  Mae Ann emits some kind of a squee— and let me just say, I am no fan of the squee. I do manage to notice her fingers. They're definitely on the stubby side. And at least two of her nails are chipped.
  
  I am not too sure if that means anything, but I am pretty sure it means something that I noticed. I'm also pretty sure my instant heebie-jeebies mean I am so going to regret this.
  
  And just like that, poof, swagger is gone. I turn forward and slink down low into the hard-backed chair.