“Were you in the hospital yesterday?” Alan asked. “There’s a story going around….”
“Yeah, I was.” Danny still watched Lacey.
“Are you sick? I mean, will you miss the fight? You can’t fight anybody if you’re sick.”
“I ain’t sick.”
“But….”
Lacey floored his new partner, this time with a left hook.
“I ain’t sick!” Danny snapped. “I’ll fight him the first of the month!”
“Okay, don’t get sore,” said Alan. “It’s your funeral.”
The loudspeaker suddenly cut through all the noise of the gym: “DANIEL FRANCIS ROMANO, PLEASE REPORT TO DR. TENNY’S OFFICE AT ONCE.”
Danny felt almost relieved. He didn’t want to hang around the gym any more, but he didn’t want Lacey to see him back away. Now he had an excuse to go.
“I’ll take you,” Alan offered.
Danny said, “I can find it by myself.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
He had to ask directions once he was outside on the campus. Finally, Danny found the building that the boys called “the front office.” It was smaller than the other buildings, only three stories high. The sign over the main door said ADMINISTRATION. Danny wasn’t quite sure he knew what it meant.
Inside the door was a sort of a counter, with a girl sitting at a telephone switchboard behind it. She was getting old, Danny saw. Way over thirty, at least. She was reading a paperback book and munching an apple.
“Where’s Joe Tenny’s office?” Danny asked her.
She swallowed a bite of apple. “Dr. Tenny’s office is the first door on your left.”
Danny went down the hallway that she had pointed to. The first door on the left was marked: DR. J. TENNY, DIRECTOR.
Instead of knocking, he walked back to the switchboard girl. She was bent over her book again, her back to Danny. He noticed for the first time that there was a clear plastic shield between the top of the counter and the ceiling. Like bulletproof glass. He tapped it.
The girl jumped, surprised, and nearly dropped the book out of her lap.
“Hey,” Danny asked, “is Tenny the boss of this whole place?”
She looked very annoyed, “This Center was Dr. Tenny’s idea. He fought to get it started and he fought to make it the way it is. Of course he runs it.”
“Oh…. Uh, thanks.”
Danny went back and knocked at Joe’s door.
“Come in!”
Joe’s office was smaller than Danny’s room. It was crammed with papers. Papers covered his desk, the table behind the desk, and lapped over the edges of the bookshelves that filled one whole wall. In a far corner stood an easel with a half-finished painting propped up on it. Brushes and tubes of paint were scattered on the floor beside the easel.
Joe leaned back in his chair. He squinted through the harsh-smelling smoke from the stubby cigar that was clamped in his teeth.
“How’re you feeling?”
“Okay.”
“Sit down. The smoke bother you?”
“No, it’s okay.” Danny saw that there was only one other chair in the office, over by the half-open window.
Sitting in it, he asked, “Uh… did you tell any of the other guys about, eh, what happened yesterday?”
“About you trying to escape?” Joe shook his head. “No, that’s no business of anybody else’s. SPECS knows it, of course. But I’ve ordered SPECS to hold the information as private. Only the staff people who work on your case will be able to learn about it. None of the kids.”
Danny nodded.
“Quite a few people saw me carrying you into the hospital, though.”
“Yeah… I guess so.”
Joe tapped the ash off his cigar into the wastebasket next to his desk. “Listen. You’re going to start classes tomorrow. Most of the kids spend their mornings studying, and use the afternoons for different things. You’re expected to work a couple of hours each afternoon. You can work in one of the shops, or join the repair gang, or something else. Everybody works at something to help keep the Center shipshape. Otherwise the place would fall apart.”
Danny frowned. “You mean it’s like a job?”
“Right,” said Joe, with a grin. “Don’t look so glum. It won’t hurt you. You get credit for every hour you work, and you can buy things in the Center’s store. SPECS runs the store and keeps track of the credits. And it’s only a couple hours a day. Then the rest of the day’s all yours.”