by Manfred Koehler

Dayton Steele types faster than anyone I know. He can chat online with four different people and keep them all laughing out loud. He even builds his own computers. It's like he was born with a mouse in his hand.

But there's something even more awesome about Dayton.

In just 45 minutes, he hacked his way inside my school's computer network.

Major Test

“Wow, Dayton! You did it.” My left eye twitches. I get like that when something makes me nervous or upset.

Dayton claims he's already seen The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe twice online, even though it hasn't hit theaters yet. Right now he's talking like Mr. Beaver.

“Give me a word you think will be on the test. Something weird.” Dayton shakes his head to get the bangs out of his eyes. Then he stares at the screen, hands hovering over the keyboard.

“Mesopotamia,” I reply, my eye still twitching. Dayton doesn't go to my school. But he's a great friend and knows I'm having a hard time in Mr. Hawksler's Bible history class.

Dayton types and hits enter. We stare at the screen for 20 seconds. Three files pop up. Dayton clicks one and takes a quick read.

“This should be it,” he says as he punches print.

Seconds later, I have tomorrow's dreaded Bible history test in my hands.

“Thanks,” I mumble. I rub my eye, hoping to stifle the twitch. When I finish, Dayton stretches his hand toward me.

“Hate to do this to a friend, Maya, but business is business,” Dayton says.

I scratch around in my pocket, pull out $10 and hand it over. Dayton stares at the single bill, looking unhappy. “I guess I didn't tell you; I'm charging $15 now.” He places the bill on top of his monitor. “But I'll let it go. Just try to remember for the next time.”

My face burns with embarrassment, so I head for the door.

“Maya!”

I slowly turn around.

“Do you really go to a Christian school?”

I gulp. My eye is driving me crazy.

“Isn't it kind of weird that you're doing this?” he asks.

I'm tempted to pretend I have no idea what Dayton's talking about. What's wrong with getting help on an impossible test, anyway? I still have to learn the answers. But something inside me doesn't buy such crooked thinking. I take a long look at Dayton and can see he really wants to know.

I shrug my shoulders, mumble a lame goodbye, turn and run.

Friendly Help

I'm sitting on my bed, gazing at the test, but the only word I see is Mesopotamia. Everything else is a blur.

“Maya? Are you crying?” a familiar voice asks.

I blink away the tears. It's my friend, Olivia. Her face is a big smile covered with a question mark. I spin around and lean back on my elbows. I hope my body hides the pirated test.

“What happened?”

“Bible history test tomorrow,” I mutter, feeling like a liar.

Olivia waves one hand in the air. “No problem,” she says. “Let's study together. Find yourself a tissue. We'll have this thing licked in an hour.”

While I stretch for the Kleenex box, Olivia reaches behind me, grabbing what she thinks are my study notes.

I want to grab her arm and rip the test away from her. Olivia reads the test and her mouth drops to her knees. I stare at the wall.

“Maya, where'd you get this?”

“From a friend.” My voice sounds weird.

“Dayton Steele?”

I nod like a robot while my eye twitches.

“He hacked into our school's computers?” Olivia doesn't want to believe it.

I whirl in my chair. “Give me that test!”

Olivia hands it over.

I rip, tear, shred and growl. Ten seconds later the test is a thousand tiny pieces in my trash can.

Olivia and I don't say anything for a long time.

Finally, Olivia steps toward my door. “I think I should study on my own tonight.”

I reach for my Bible history books. I've got a lot of work to do.

Paper Jam

I stand behind Dayton while he surfs the Net. My 15 bucks flutter on top of his monitor.

“There are all kinds of research papers on the Internet,” Dayton says. “You just need to know where to look."

I didn't do too well on the Bible history test. Now I've got a major assignment due, and I haven't even started. Bible history keeps messing up my life, and Olivia hasn't been around to motivate me. I never cleared up that awkward scene about the test with her.

Twenty minutes later, Dayton still hasn't found anything for me.

“A seventh-grade paper on the life of Paul the apostle?” Dayton asks. “That's hard to find.”

Dayton stops clicking. “You sure you want to do this?”

I shake my head, but Dayton's eyes are frozen on the monitor so he doesn't see my response.

“Yes,” I hear myself say. “Get it done.”

Another five minutes pass.

“Here's something,” Dayton points at the screen to Paul's Sufferings as Compared to Christ's.

I grab the mouse and skim through a few pages. Whoever wrote it seems a little too grown-up, but I don't care anymore. I'll tweak it. Besides, I'm out of time.

“Print it.”

Dayton hits the print icon while my eye twitches. Then he turns around with this I-need-to-know-something look.

“What's an apostle, Maya?”

“A representative of Jesus,” I mumble.

“Isn't that sort of what you are?”

I grab the printout, point at the $15 on the monitor, say a quick thanks and get out of there before my face burns off. I don't want Dayton asking any more questions.

Word Pirate

Three days have passed since I handed in my paper. I never did change it much. No time. Now Mr. Hawksler is lecturing us about something that makes me want to squirm under my desk.

“Modern pirates don't sail the seven seas like they once did, nor do they steal treasures of gold, silk and precious stones. Instead they surf the Internet, stealing music, movies, software and even —” Mr. Hawksler holds someone's Paul assignment in the air, “other people's schoolwork.”

I squint to see the title, but it's too far away.

“Is there a pirate in this room?” Mr. Hawksler asks.

For the longest time, no one moves. I feel terrible inside, but I don't have any guts to confess.

Suddenly, I hear a whimper. Looking over, I see Olivia slowly raising her hand. My good friend is crying.

“Thank you, Olivia. I think we should talk about this after school.”

Olivia nods while wiping away tears.

Whew! My face is burning off. That was too close. Poor Olivia. That took guts. Wish I had guts like that.

Out in the Open

Olivia looks like a wreck, sitting all by herself at a lunch table. Something inside makes me sit beside her.

“It's partly your fault, you know,” she says without looking at me.

I give her my I-have-no-idea-what-you're-talking-about stare. But inside I feel like a liar again.

“I called Dayton to help me with that Paul assignment.” She points a finger at my nose. “I got the idea from you and that stolen Mesopotamia test.” Olivia talks as if I'm some kind of, well, pirate.

“I tore that test up!” The words come out like a growl because I'm not feeling super nice right now.

“Not until after you had a long look at it!” Olivia growls back.

I want to scream that I never saw one word of that test except M-E-S-O-P-O-T-A-M-I-A. Fat chance she'd believe me.

Olivia calms down. “Dayton told me he didn't like helping people from a Christian school anymore. He said it made him feel weird.”

“How'd you get him to help you?” I ask.

“I just kept begging until he sent me a file. Then he said something totally random, 'No charge; this one's covered already.' I didn't understand what he meant.” Olivia looks at me as if I should know.

My eye goes berserk. I can see my $15 on Dayton's monitor. A verse from Proverbs flashes into my mind: He who conceals his sins does not prosper, but whoever confesses and renounces them finds mercy.

Oh, Lord Jesus, help me, I pray silently. I need guts, please, right now, today.

“Olivia, I need to talk with Mr. Hawksler. Will you come with me? I don't think I have the courage to do it alone.”

“You want to come with me after school?”

“No, we gotta do this now.”

“What's the hurry?”

I grab Olivia by the shoulders. “Because we both handed in the same paper: Paul's Sufferings as Compared to Christ's. You recognize the title?”

I'm sure Mr. Hawksler already knows I'm a pirate, too. Telling him I did something wrong isn't really worth much at this point, but assuring him I'll never do it again might be.

There is one other thing I need to do to make this right. Hopefully, Olivia agrees.

“And after school, we're going to visit Dayton. We've got some apologizing to do. I don't want him to feel weird around us anymore.”

	Q: What do you get when an antelope and a caribou collide? A: A cantaloupe. Jacy and Joe C., 8 and 6, North Carolina Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe