Hiding R. M.
an excerpt

Six days later Nate stifled a yawn as he raced up the stairs toward Aviation. He was late, for the second day in a row. It was one week until the IPT event, and he’d been up half the night trying to figure out all of the things he still didn’t understand: When was Reilly going to come back and plant the bomb? And what were Smith and Anderson doing to cover it up in the meantime?
At about three in the morning he’d gone to the astronomy tower, cursed-out Orion, then returned to the robotics classroom where he’d searched desperately for any kind of small magnetic device that could get him into the locked door of Mrs. Alcourt's hanger. He would need to retrieve the Spider, and then to put it back.
But he’d come out empty handed an hour later, and tumbled into bed where he’d dreamt repeatedly of the Comet blowing up with Dad and Mrs. Alcourt and Trissa aboard.
Now, at 8:15 am, as he crested the top of the staircase, he ran pell-mell into Dr. Bellows who almost seemed to have been waiting for him.
“Good morning, Nate. A little late for class today, aren’t you?” The psychologist spoke smoothly, standing like a sentinal at the top of the dormitory stairs.
“I over-slept.” Nate tried to hurry past him, but Dr. Bellows clasped his hand firmly over Nate’s shoulder with a commanding. “Wait." Nate stood still, and the psychologist continued. "Ehem, Mr. Rocket -- I know you don’t want therapy, but just look at yourself. You’re hair is uncombed, there are bags under your eyes, and you – a straight-A student -- are late for class, for what I hear is the second or third time this week? You’re obviously not doing well. Why won’t you let me help you?” His smiled dripped with pity and it just made Nate want to run.
“No... thanks, Sir. I’m fine.” Nate shoved the hair out of his face and hiked the backpack higher onto his shoulder. “I’ve really got to get to class.” He ducked out from under Bellows’ grasp and rushed around the corner, slipping into the cafeteria where he stayed still until the psychologists slow, purposeful steps had receded down the opposite hallway. Then Nate stepped back into the hall and ran toward Aviation.
But as he passed the girls’ bathroom, on the Aviation hallway, his left leg collided with a small hard object that was suddenly shoved out in front of him. He sprawled onto the floor, dropping his backpack, then scrambled onto his hands and knees and spun toward the bathroom doorway. Trissa stood there alone, her leg still sticking out from where she’d tripped him. In her hand she held the metal Spider and her eyes glowed wtih an angry green lightening.