The School for the Insanely Gifted by Dan Elish Page B

cast’s bios. And there’s a video of the opening-night party.”
    Daphna had barely chewed her piece, but now she chomped on her gum like it was the last piece in the world.
    â€œGood,” Harkin said. “Now think of a site.”
    Daphna thought of one of her favorites, composers.org, a website with information on famous musicians.
    â€œDo you see anything?” Cynthia asked.
    Daphna shook her head. “Not yet.” She looked at her two friends accusingly. “Are you sure—”
    But just like Cynthia, she was hit right between the eyes. Suddenly composers.org opened before her, almost like looking at the hologram of Harkin in her grandfather clock.
    â€œOh my gosh,” she whispered, then looked at Harkin. “You really are insanely gifted.”
    Harkin rubbed his hands together wildly. “I can’t deny it!”
    â€œHow long will I be online?” Daphna asked.
    â€œFor as long as the gum has flavor,” Harkin said. “Which should be about five more minutes.”
    Cynthia paced the room, eyes staring into space. “There are the reviews. ‘ The Dancing Doberman is no dog.’ There’s my picture. Man, I make an ugly golden retriever. And look! Someone started a fan group. ‘Bark if you love Cynthia Trustwell.’ They’re giving free tickets to people who volunteer to give a rescue dog a home.”
    Daphna was getting into the spirit, also pacing the room, reading off the website that only she saw. “I’m scrolling through a biography of George Gershwin. He grew up in New York, you know. His first hit song was ‘Swanee.’ He wrote Rhapsody in Blue when he was twenty-five.”
    â€œYou’ve written your rhapsody at age eleven and three-quarters,” Harkin said.
    Daphna nodded. “I still need to name it. Something cool. Got any suggestions?”
    Harkin didn’t answer. Instead he reached to the ground, picked up a half-twisted hubcap, and hurled it at the door with all his might.
    â€œHey! Private!”
    Daphna looked toward the door. Through the biography of George Gershwin, she caught a glimpse of a boy with his hair parted in the center before he disappeared.
    â€œMyron?” Daphna said.
    â€œIt’s him, all right,” Harkin said.
    â€œI caught him snooping around my office earlier this morning,” Daphna said.
    That was enough to get Cynthia to stop reading her press clippings.
    â€œWhen I came out of my meeting with Ignatious, I saw him snooping around the offices on the sixth floor.”
    Daphna exchanged a worried glance with her friends. Harkin said what they were all thinking.
    â€œDo you think he’s trying to steal an idea to get on Cody Meyers ?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Daphna said. “But let’s find out.”
    She pushed through the door. Down the far hall, Daphna saw a shape disappear down the corridor.
    â€œMyron!”
    Daphna led the charge down the hall of offices, past Wanda Twiddles (who was now hanging upside down by one foot), Jean-Claude Broquet (who had the entire United States Constitution laid out on the floor of his office), and finally Wilmer Griffith (who was scribbling equations so furiously, he had written off the blackboard and onto the wall without even noticing).
    â€œWhere’d he go?” Harkin asked.
    â€œDon’t know,” Cynthia said.
    Daphna stopped running and chewed as hard as she could.
    â€œWhat’re you doing?”
    â€œGoing to blattschool.edu and finding Myron’s office.”
    Daphna was amazed by how quickly Gum-Top responded to her thoughts.
    She saw the site before her, then went to the section marked “Map,” then scrolled to the name “Blatt, Myron.”
    â€œIt’s one floor up,” she said.
    Daphna and her friends sprinted up the stairs. When they arrived at Myron’s office, they found an empty room. There was a clutter-free desk in the corner and