The Jump, page 5
I glance at Han, who smiles. A bit of red creeps into his cheeks. Maybe he’s as embarrassed at her volume as I am. But as she always says, it’s her restaurant, and she controls the volume.
“I’ll have Tae-Jin bring it all up to your room.” She smiles at me, following it up with two claps of her hands. “You have schoolwork to do! Chop-chop!”
* * *
I’ve poured every last dime I’ve ever made downstairs into this PC setup. It doesn’t have the flashing rainbow lights like so many others, but the processor sings and the graphics card I have was only released last week. Cryptology? Hunting down clues? Making digital connections? It’s my life. It’s all I want to do. I just wish monetary prizes popped up more often. And exceeded fifty bucks. Then I might be able to upgrade our shitty Wi-Fi.
I’ll take power, though, I think, if it keeps me and my family in this city. It’s what I’d spend any money I made on anyway. I swing open the door to my room, and my friends and I step into sheer darkness except an orange-and-purple lava lamp in the corner. I flip on the switch for the floor lamp and we all take our places—Jax flops down on the beanbag with a hole worn in the side, Han sits crisscross on the floor with his back against the wall, and Yas curls up at the foot of my bed on her side and stretches her mouth wide open in a yawn.
“Aht! Aht!” says Jax. “No time for sleep. We have a puzzle to solve.”
“Wait, you’re not seriously suggesting we do this one,” says Yas, rolling onto her stomach and glaring at Jax. It’s a statement, not a question. “We don’t even know what the prize is. ‘Power’ is the vaguest reward I’ve ever seen. What kind of power? Are they rigging the next election? Or bribing people in our favor? Are they shelling out loads of money to get what they—or the prizewinners—want? Highly questionable.”
“Aw, Yas,” I protest, scooting the stack of milk crates I’m sitting on closer to my desk, which is really a card table that’s not quite tall enough to be comfortable but gets the job done. “We can’t just turn down a puzzle like this. We’re practically royalty on the forum, and the Order are some top-tier vigilantes. Whatever they’ve got planned, this is some high-stakes shit!”
Jax’s eyes begin to sparkle across the circle from me, and he leans forward, twirling that purple crystal between his fingers. Knowing Mama, it’s got to mean something. I wonder what message she sent him off to school today with.
“Yas, you’re forgetting the most important part of the whole puzzle. Do you realize if we win this,” he says, leaning his elbows up onto the edge of the bed so he can talk to her one-on-one, “we could join the Order? That was part of their proposal!”
My heart skips as I remember that part. I completely forgot!
WE SEEK ONLY THE MOST ELITE TO JOIN OUR GROUP.
THIS GAME WILL REVEAL THE MOST DESERVING.
“Not necessarily,” I cut in. “It says the game will reveal the most deserving. What if there’s a second or third hoop to jump through? What if these are scammers and they start asking for social security numbers and shit?”
Jax’s thick eyebrows lie flat over his eyes. “Just whose side are you on, Spider?”
Han, who’s been staring at the floor this whole time, now looks up at my shelf above my computer, studying it carefully. I raise an eyebrow and follow his gaze, trying to figure out what he’s piecing together. My soccer trophies are all lined up along the left, with a few small soccer balls next to them—for the basketball hoop on the back of my door. Then a few succulents—miraculously all dead even though they’re supposed to be indestructible—and a sticky note reminding me to do a virus scan every once in a while.
Can’t remember the last time I did that.
Han pushes himself to his feet, picks up a trophy, and scoops three of the little balls into his arms. Then, just as Yas is saying to Jax, “You’re asking me to play a game for a prize I don’t want, hosted by a group we can’t verify,” Han holds out a soccer ball to her.
She seems caught off guard as she glances at Jax for an explanation. She looks back at Han and takes the ball from him with a smile.
“Uh… thanks?” She tosses it up and down with one hand as Han holds out a ball to me, and finally, hands Jax the trophy before taking his seat against the wall again.
Yas, Jax, and I all look at each other. Obviously, this means something. Han just loooves communicating in riddles, so it makes sense that he’s an expert at solving them with us.
“Do you want to play soccer, Han?” asks Jax.
Han doesn’t answer. He just tosses the ball between his hands and smiles. Nope. Too basic an answer for a Han puzzle.
I wrinkle my forehead and think. Yas, Han, and I all have soccer balls. Jax has the trophy. Why?
“Han, are you saying Jax should lead us through this puzzle from the Order?” asks Yas. “That maybe since he has the trophy, he’s the best of us all?”
Han’s eyebrows fall. He looks insulted at that answer, and I have to crack a smile. The idea that any of us would think we’re better than the others—ha. We all bring something different. That’s why we’re all part of JERICHO. Four cornerstones, if you will.
So why is Jax holding the trophy?
Then it clicks.
My heart thunders like it always does when I piece something together. There’s no better feeling than the warmth that floods your chest when you know the answer to something while everyone else in the room scratches their heads.
“We can all play the game,” I say, nodding at Jax. “But Jax can have the prize.”
Jax and Yas both look at me as my answer sinks in. Then they look at each other for confirmation. Then we all look at Han, whose mouth has curved into a slight, knowing smile.
“Well, that settles it, I guess.” Jax shrugs. “Y’all can play, and I’ll join the Order.”
“We have to win first,” says Yas.
“We’re JERICHO,” I cut in with a grin. There’s not a lot I’m confident about in this world, but JERICHO? My friends? Our ability to murder this puzzle?
I know we got this.
“Now, when’s the first clue dropping?”
Han holds up his phone to me. I assume he’s already been looking into it over there. You can’t stay a jump ahead of the other teams if you take forever noticing the first clue is up.
I hold out my hand to let him place his phone in my palm, and when I turn it and look at the screen, I realize I’m staring at the original post. I reach up and run my free hand through my hair and adjust my seat on these crates that are probably leaving a crisscross pattern on the back of my thighs, even through my clothes.
“Han, this is the original post. Where’s the clue?”
I know I’m asking myself, and Han knows I’m asking myself, because it’s not a yes-or-no question. So, I scroll for the answer. All the comments are asking where the Order posted the first clue.
“Maybe they haven’t posted it yet,” says Jax. “Maybe they’re relaxing, reading the comments and letting us all squirm.” He folds his arms behind his head and sinks comfortably into the beanbag, pushing a few more beads out of the hole in the side.
“You’re poking those back in before you leave,” I say with a playful raised eyebrow.
“Always,” Jax says with a smirk. “Anyway, I won’t be squirming. I’ll just lounge and wait patiently till the first clue is out.”
Yas sighs and folds her arms.
My eyes find the comment at the very top. It’s from the Order themselves, and it just says, “May the best win.”
“Pretty sure the first clue is out,” I say, scrolling through the comments to see if anyone, anyone’s, found it. My heart’s pounding, and I shift my position on the stack of milk crates just as a knock raps at my bedroom door, startling all of our gazes up from our screens.
“Marco!” calls Tae-Jin Hyung’s voice from the other side. He must have our ramen. I was so enthralled with this puzzle, I forgot all about our food. Judging from my friends’ faces, it looks like we all did.
“Polo!” I say. The door eases open, and Tae-Jin Hyung peeks his radiant face through, pushing the door all the way open with his knee to reveal a steaming tray of four colorful bowls—three with wooden chopsticks laid beside them, and one with a fork for Han.
Tae-Jin Hyung sets the tray down, and we divvy up the deliciousness—an eggless veggie bowl for Jax, a two-egg veggie bowl for Yas, and classic bowls for Han and me, both with extra chashu, extra crispy.
I have to smile up at Tae-Jin Hyung before he leaves.
“Thanks,” I say. “Tell Umma I said thanks too?”
“You told her downstairs earlier,” he chuckles, “but I’ll tell her again.” Then he looks at Jax. “Hey, she had me put your mushrooms on the side because she wasn’t sure they were vegan.” Jax grins, opens his sauce container of mushrooms, and sniffs.
“Mushrooms are vegan,” he says with a nod. “And these things smell good. I’ll take ’em!”
“All riiiiight,” says Tae-Jin Hyung with a salute. “She also said to tell all of you ‘Good luck with your computer puzzles,’ and that she’s proud of all of you.”
My heart jumps to my throat. Umma has always supported whatever I want to do, even if that means running all over the city looking for clues to inconsequential puzzles online. But what would she say if she knew I was about to compete in one that might mean the difference between us staying in Seattle or losing the restaurant and having to leave? I know what she’d say.
Too dangerous! What if they kill you instead? She’s asked me that before about less important puzzles, when zero prizes were on the line. I guess it makes sense. If they set the clues, they generally know where we’ll be. Perfect setup to kidnap someone if they wanted to. But that’s the thing about cryptology—there are risks. There are always risks.
That’s what makes this stuff so damn fun.
“I don’t see any posts from the Order besides the original,” says Yas, scrolling down her phone, seemingly uninterested in her noodles. Then she shrugs, picks up her chopsticks, and slurps up some noodles, bamboo, and chashu. Jax follows suit. I don’t.
I reread the original post.
WE SEEK ONLY THE MOST ELITE TO JOIN OUR GROUP.
THIS GAME WILL REVEAL THE MOST DESERVING.
Then it clicks. What if this original post is the first clue? I take to my computer and pull up the forum. Han, who immediately notices I’m up to something, pushes himself up and shuffles over to my seat, looking up at my computer screen with both hands on my desk, his fingers tapping as he watches every move I make.
I blow up the picture first—that unassuming black square with the white text—and crank up the brightness for any signs of hidden text. Maybe some words are written in gray? An accessibility nightmare unless you use a…
I type in the shortcut for my screen reader to activate, and it begins speaking. It reads, word for word, what I see in white letters and nothing else.
Well, it was worth a try.
By now, Jax and Yas look up from their conversation. I can see them out of the corner of my eye, but I stay focused as they join curiously behind me.
“What is it, Spider?” asks Jax. “Found something?”
“Why you asking me like I’m some kind of basset hound, though?”
Yas nods at Jax. “He’s got a point.”
“I just wanna know what’s up!” says Jax, his voice growing more excited with each word. “Is the first clue out? Did you see it somewhere? Come on, Spider, you can’t hold out on us like this!”
“Says he who was just going to ‘lounge and wait patiently’ five minutes ago,” Yas says, smirking.
I ignore Jax and try to focus. I hate having to tune out everything to focus, but it’s true, I have to. The team already knows, and they all get quiet around me. I watch the screen and think as the world fades into nothing. The smell of the ramen is gone, my room is gone, and it’s just me and my keyboard and this image.
I right-click and open the source code, letting my eyes fly over the HTML for any clues. I see all the usual things: image size and position, pixels, error containers, background color, text color, scroll bar info—all stuff that was predetermined by the host site, not our forum. But then I see a whole bunch of font info. Entirely too much font info—like, my scroll wheel is flying down, down, down, and I’m still looking at goddamn font info.
Font family: Helvetica, sans serif; font size: 16.
Font family: Helvetica, sans serif; font size: 15.
And then back to font size 16.
And then back to 15.
Then 16.
15.
16.
15.
Why does it keep alternating like this? This doesn’t make any sense. Some of the letters in the ALT text of the photo—the text behind the picture that screen readers pick up on and narrate aloud—are different sizes.
Why?
I practically dive across this card table for the memo pad I borrowed from the school office—hey, if I’m going to waste my time in detention in the office, I might as well get some free school supplies out of it—and start scribbling. My eyes fly from the screen to the pad as I write, isolating which letters of the puzzle are size 16, and which are size 15. The size-16 letters are endless. I’ve got two lines of them already. The size-15 letters, on the other hand, are few. I overhear Jax behind me.
“Is ‘Excalibur’ maybe a reference to King Arthur?” he asks, scrolling through his phone. “Looks like King Arthur is the name of a baking school here. Or maybe it’s a reference to King County?”
I isolate the size-15 letters, and my heart thunders as I read what I have.
The size-15 letters all spell out:
DEXTERXREPUBLICAN.
Dexter X. Republican.
Who is that?
I think for a minute and lean backward, a little too far, and can’t catch myself fast enough. No, no, no! I scramble for the card table, which, actually, it’s probably a good thing my hands didn’t find that or I might’ve brought my whole computer down with me. I land back-first on the floor, my feet tumbling over my head until I slam into my bookshelves behind me. I’m disoriented, but I hear a wobbling sound from above me, like metal teetering on wood, and then it stops.
Jax gasps. Yas gasps.
I look up to find Han’s hand clutched around my biggest soccer trophy, just inches from the tip of my nose.
His mouth is flat, and eyes wide, searching mine as if to ask if I’m okay.
“Thanks, man,” I breathe.
That was way too close.
“You okay?” asks Yas, coming over and kneeling in front of me. She rests a hand on my shoulder as I compose myself and catch my breath.
“Yeah, I, um,” I say. Then I remember what I found. “I decoded the image! It says ‘Dexter X. Republican’!”
“Who’s that?” asks Yas.
“Oh, so you are in!” says Jax.
“I didn’t say that,” replies Yas with a sour look.
“I was hoping one of y’all might know,” I say, feeling my heart sink a bit lower. “I’ll look him up?”
“No need,” says Jax. “It’s not a person. Those are cross streets. Dexter Avenue and Republican Street.”
“Oh my god, you’re right!” exclaims Yas. “Jax, you’re a genius!”
“Can I get that in writing?” he asks with an eyebrow wiggle.
Han holds out his phone to me, the screen zoomed in on a map of the big tech campus that borders Lake Union, about two miles from here via Fourth Avenue. The 62 bus goes right there. So does the 554. Or we could catch the E line. Or the South Lake Union Trolley—lovingly nicknamed “the SLUT” around here.
Whatever our next move, we’ll find Clue 2 in South Lake Union.
But first… we’ve got a school day to finish.
It’s like we all realize it at the same time.
We look at the laptop, sink back down into our seats, and I turn up the volume so we can hear the lecture, and pretend to listen, as we hum inside and watch the clock.
Jax
I really thought I was onto something with that Excalibur thing.
But then there Spider go with the hacking again.
Source code? Really?
The Order may have good intentions with posting a puzzle like this, but this will be no cakewalk. If they’re bringing source code into this, they’re going to want us to dig. I bet half the people on the forum don’t even realize the first clue is already out. I didn’t even know! On Mama and Zaza, when we get to South Lake Union, I’ma be the first to figure out where Clue 2 is, because I’m getting real tired of coming in second place today. First Han lurking in the shadows like Batman, and now Spider being a cross between MacGyver and Steve Jobs.
I have an idea.
“Yas, why don’t we use your place as a home base for the next clue since you live a few minutes outside South Lake Union? We could go after eighth period and—”
“Not as long as Ranya’s home,” she says abruptly.
“Oh,” I say.
Ranya. Her sister. She’s home.
Haunting the place.
“She’s still there?” asks Spider exasperatedly before tossing a couple of potato chips into his mouth. We’ve long since finished the ramen and moved on to the too-early-for-dinner-but-we’re-still-hungry part of the day. “Wasn’t she supposed to go back to campus weeks ago?”
Yas shrugs her shoulders, and I sink my teeth into the Fuji apple I’m holding, savoring its sweetness before jumping in.
“Sometimes it takes a while to get over someone.”
“Well, yeah, but she broke up with him, right?” asks Spider.
Han gives Spider a look like he’s wondering how Spider can be so callous.
“What?” asks Spider, shrugging at him. “I’m just saying, if you all catch me simping for someone so hard that my whole life shuts down for months if I leave them, you have my permission to slap me into next week.”
“Same,” says Yas.
Spider rolls his eyes.
“Please, Yas,” he says. “We all know you’re tsundere as hell. When you do fall for someone, you’ll fall hard. No cap.”
