Chapter 6: Open Doors

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Chapter 6: Open Doors

Chapter 6: Open Doors

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M A D D O X

I hesitate outside Eleanor's door, pausing to flash a quick salute to fish-eye lens of the surveillance camera that hovers overhead. I'm not breaking any rules by being here. Students are allowed to visit each other's dorm rooms before 8 PM curfew, just as long as the door stays open and we remain in full view of the camera.

What could possibly go wrong with a full-proof system like that?

Seriously, the whole "remote supervision" thing is a joke. Dr. Carlyle likes to wave his hands and say a bunch of buzz words about "promoting peer-based learning," but we all know it's an excuse to cut back on faculty over the summer. Whoever came up with this plan should be fired. As if a digital video feed can't be gamed?

Trust me, if I've learned anything from my past two summers in the Maker Program, it's that anything can be faked. Anything can be hacked. Anything can be gamed.

A half-smile turns up one corner of my mouth as I rap my fist against the solid oak paneling

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A half-smile turns up one corner of my mouth as I rap my fist against the solid oak paneling. A door can be made to look open even when it's closed. Especially when you have students like Emerson Kemp—students who know a thing or two about augmented reality. Emerson graduated a couple years ago, but not without leaving behind his greatest legacy: some highly useful blocks of code for the young men and women of the Winthrop Academy Summer Maker Program.

Maybe I won't have much use for Emerson's tricks this summer. I'll stick to the open-door policy for now. I'm not here to do anything against school rules. Eleanor and I made our deal (as if I had any choice), but it's strictly a business arrangement. She wants to keep up appearances—act like we're still a couple for the next two weeks until the Maker Program ends. That's fine. She didn't tell me why, and I honestly don't care. It's a small price to pay if it means I get to keep my spot at Winthrop for the next school year. I'll play my part in public for as long as she likes. But there won't be anything going on between us behind closed doors.

The door swings open, and Reese stands on the other side. Eleanor's nowhere in sight.

Reese knows why I'm here. Her blue hair swings about her shoulders as she cocks her head toward the walk-in closet. A faint light emanates from the crack at the bottom of the closet door. "She's still getting dressed."

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