Ms. MacCauley glanced at her wristwatch, then said, “I guess I do.”
“There’s a terminal in the learning lab, where I’m working,” Nancy added.
Victor gave a snort and said, “Thanks to Ms. MacCauley, there’s a terminal in practically every space in this school, except the broom closet!”
The woman turned to him and said with a straight face, “What happened to that one? Did someone steal it?” Then, laughing, they all went up to the learning lab.
A few moments later Nancy found herself seated at the terminal with an expert leaning over each of her shoulders. She turned on the power, typed in her password at the log-on prompt, and hit the Enter button.
A list of menus appeared on the screen. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to know how to do?” Ms. MacCauley asked her.
Nancy hesitated a moment. She had to be careful what she asked. If Victor was the grade-changer, she didn’t want him to suspect she was on his trail.
“I was wondering,” she said lightly, “if someone sent you a message, would there be any way of finding out what terminal it came from?”
“You could,” Ms. MacCauley replied with a nod. “If you refuse the message, the computer will tell you that it’s returning the message to its place of origin. It will say: ‘Returning refused message to terminal twelve,’ or whatever terminal it is.”
“And how could you find out where terminal twelve is located?” asked Nancy.
“You couldn’t,” Ms. MacCauley replied. “You’d have to have access to a set of computer files that the regular student user couldn’t get to.”
She’d have to ask Walter to look at the file, thought Nancy. “Why can’t students have that information?” she asked Ms. MacCauley. “Is it for security reasons?”
“Not really. We simply didn’t want to overload the active systems with files students don’t need. By storing this information in a separate reference directory, we freed up some space for active use. No one but authorized personnel can get into that file.”
“Authorized personnel and me,” Victor piped up.
Ms. MacCauley shot him an exasperated look. “Victor,” she said, covering her ears, “I’m not hearing this. Don’t tell me these things.”
Disregarding the playful warning, Victor leaned in closer to Nancy—closer than he had to. “Watch this,” he said as his fingers flew across the keyboard. “Ta da!” he crowed finally.
There it was! A complete listing of all the terminals in the school next to their code reference numbers. Nancy’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe she could just get a copy of the list now without bothering the headmaster. But she couldn’t ask for it without making Victor suspicious.
“Oh, no!” Nancy exclaimed suddenly, glancing at her watch. “A student’s due to arrive any minute, and I’m not prepared yet!”
Nancy jumped up from her seat and pretended to twist her ankle. She pitched forward, bringing her hand down on the keyboard—making sure to hit only one button: Print Screen.
Noisily, the printer sprang into action. “Oh, my gosh!” she cried, feigning surprise.
“Are you okay?” asked Victor.
“It’s just my ankle,” she moaned. “I hope it doesn’t swell up.”
“I’m going to get a cold, wet towel,” Ms. MacCauley volunteered. “That might keep it from swelling.”
“Let’s take a look at that,” said Victor as Ms. MacCauley left the room. He knelt down in front of her and propped her foot up on his leg. Slipping off her loafer, he gently rotated the ankle. “Does that hurt?” he asked, his amber eyes meeting hers.
They were startled by a strangled cry from the doorway. Nancy looked over and saw Kim standing there, her face crimson with anger.
“You’ll be sorry,” she cried. “You two will wish you were never born when I’m through with you!”
Chapter Six
Kim turned and fled down the hall.
“I’d better try to talk to her,” Victor said, dashing out of the room.
Nancy hit the Advance button on the printer, and the paper moved up enough so that she could tear off the three sheets of the printout and slip them into her bag.
“What was that about?” a voice spoke up behind her.