Free Allies by S. J. Kincaid

hour of the morning. Heather said it was because of the time zone she was in. Tom decided he’d stay up all night if he had to. His brain was whirling. He had a date . . . kind of. With a real, live girl . . . he hoped.
    After she logged off, his avatar remained by his desk, his real body sitting stock-still on the couch in the VR parlor, the enormity of asking a girl out for the first time and having the girl say yes beating through his brain. He’d thought this would be just another ordinary day. . . .
    A throat cleared.
    Tom noticed suddenly that he and Ms. Falmouth were the only ones left in the virtual classroom.
    “I was just logging off,” Tom said quickly, and reached up in the real world to snatch off his visor.
    “Not quite yet, Tom,” Ms. Falmouth said. “Stay a moment. I think we need to talk.”
    Oh.
    A heaviness settled in Tom’s chest, because he’d half expected this, and it wasn’t good.
    “Let’s go to my office.” Ms. Falmouth twitched her fingers to alter the program, and the landscape shifted around them into a private office. She settled at one side of the imposing desk. Tom navigated himself into the seat opposite, and waited for some hint of what she needed to hear before she’d let him off the hook this time.
    “Tom,” she said, folding her hands on her desk, “I am concerned about this attendance situation.”
    Tom let out a breath. “I figured.”
    “You were referred to this institution because your father somehow let you reach age eleven without enrolling you in school. We’ve worked to catch you up, but I don’t feel you’re making the same progress as the rest of the class. In fact, considering that you’re very rarely in class, I am finding this situation outright unmanageable.”
    “Maybe I need an alternative school,” Tom suggested.
    “This already is an alternative school. This is the end of the line.”
    “I try.”
    “No, you don’t. And what’s more, your father doesn’t try, either. Do you realize you missed two quizzes and a history paper last week?”
    “It couldn’t be helped.”
    “Russo-Chinese hackers, right?” she said. “Or perhaps you were taken hostage by terrorists again, or washed out to sea and stranded on a desert island without internet access?”
    “Not quite.” But he’d really get a kick out of using that one sometime in the future.
    “Tom, you are not taking this seriously—and that’s your problem. This is not some silly game: this is your future and you are throwing it away with both hands. You promised me a month ago that you would never miss class again.” Ms. Falmouth’s avatar gazed at him with an unnatural, unblinking intensity. “We signed a learning contract, don’t you remember?”
    Tom didn’t point out that she’d demanded that he promise not to miss class again. What had she expected him to tell her, the truth? Should he have outright admitted he probably wasn’t going to show up at school? She would’ve just yelled at him for “being insolent” or something.
    “This is not about me,” Ms. Falmouth went on. “It’s not about your father, even: it is about you, Tom. You realize that whatever actions I take from here, they’re for your own good. I cannot sit back and allow a fourteen-year-old boy’s entire life to be sabotaged by an irresponsible parent who will not even ensure he gets a proper education.”
    Tom sat up in both the sim and the VR parlor. “What does that even mean—‘whatever actions you take from here’?”
    “It means you’re under court order to attend school, and you have not been attending. Last week, I reported your absences to Child Protective Services.”
    Tom slouched back, feeling like he’d just been socked in the stomach. This was notgoing to end well. Maybe he wasn’t reaching great heights of achievement with Neil, but life in foster care wouldn’t be a land of hope and opportunity either.
    And no way could he stay at his mom’s.
    No way, no