The school hallway seemed subtly off to Sean on his first day back from suspension. It was a while before he realized why. It was Sean who was different, changed by his experiences. To read a book was to be altered by it, each day bringing a dizzying new shift in perspective. His rate of assimilation stretched everytime he used his power, expanded many fold from his original limit of a book a day. More knowledge and understanding in a month than a decade of normal endeavour. Was it any wonder he felt disoriented?

He'd begged his mom to drop him off rather than take the school bus and put up with pointed questions from his peers. He didn't want to be pestered about vandalism in the chemistry lab when he couldn't remember anything about it. At least here he was comfortably anonymized by the throng of students flowing through the entrance. His phone beeped a text from Tiffany:

u have a visitor

library

now

Sean frowned. He was looking forward to hanging out in private with Tiffany again, but that wasn't what this was. Who'd want to meet in the semi-seclusion of the library, so early? Well he had a few minutes to spare before class.

The school library was brightly lit from internal lighting and sunlight streaming through the aluminum framed glass wall on the far side of the row of bookshelfs. The glass wall extended to a mezzanine upper floor that held more bookshelfs. The reading tables scattered about were unsuprisingly empty, given the time of the day. The lone occupant was Mrs. Fry the librarian who was occupied with a reshelving cart. Sean stalked between rows of shelfs careful not to touch any book, alert for trouble. The library was much less suited for an ambush compared to the chemistry lab or the corridors, but he wasn't taking chances. More reading tables set against the glass wall came into view as Sean emerged from between the shelfs.

Kyle Green sat alone at one of the tables. Jason's football buddy and dead ringer for Idris Elba in his prime. Kyle who had punched Sean so hard that just thinking about it brought a phantom ache. Sean pivoted on his feet to launch himself away as fast as he could.

"Wait, we need to talk," Kyle's croak caused Sean to stumble, not from the words themselves but from the curious note of pleading it held. Sean cautiously poked his head out from the shelfs, scanning for signs that this was a trap. But no one stepped out of the shelfs.

"I don't need to do anything," Sean glowered at Kyle. There had been no lasting injury from his last encounter with Kyle, but that was because he'd turned the tables with help from Tiffany.

"Look man... I know you're mad about what happened in the corridor," Kyle raised his hand placatingly and pointing to neck, "but you hit my weak spot too. Let's call it even, alright?"

"What do you want?" Sean stepped forward, keeping a sharp lookout for Jason and his posse. No one was trying to head him off or sneaking down the stairs to pounce on him, so far.

"I need your help," Kyle spoke rapidly, with a nervousness not like him at all, "My test shows positive."

"Start making sense," Sean growled, "What test?"

"The random drug testing the school makes us take," there was anguish in Kyle's voice, "They won't let me play in the championship."

Sean frowned. He vaguely knew that Portsmouth School District had recently instituted a strict policy of randomly testing students who participated in competitive activities for illegal substance use.

"Well... did you?" Sean asked curiously.

"No, of course not," Kyle jerked back, looking offended, "I'd never..."

"OK," shrugged Sean.

Kyle continued angrily, "You think just because I'm..."

"I believe you," Sean said mildly.

"You do?" Kyle blinked.

"Isn't there supposed to be a follow up test for confirmation?" Sean probed, "If you are clean you have nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, they've sent my samples to an outside lab for verification," Kyle nodded, and slammed his hand on the table, "But those results won't be back in time. The first inter-district match is in three days. The rules says I can't play if there's probable evidence of drug use. It's bullshit!"

"Well, that sucks. But what do you want from me?" Sean demanded.

"The word is you sweet-talked the school board into downgrading your expulsion into a suspension," there was desperate hope in Kyle's eyes, "Maybe you can convince them to let me play. My folks are meeting with the Principal and the school superintendent at nine."

"What... like right now?" Sean stared in disbelief, "Even if I could help... why should I? You damn nearly killed me the last time."

"If you get me out of this," Kyle raised both hands earnestly, remaining seated to avoid any hint of a threat, "I swear I won't lay hands on you ever again. Even if Jason is around."

"How do I know I can trust you?" Sean scoffed.

Kyle hesitated, then swallowed nervously, "I'll confess to my folks in front of you that... that I punched you. There's no way to walk that back. If I touch you again, you can go straight to them. They'll tear me a new one."

Sean looked thoughtful. It was common knowledge that Kyle was terrified of disappointing his mom. His guaranteed pledge of neutrality was worth a lot. It was like taking out your opponent's rook, one less piece for Sean to worry about. The problem was Kyle's misfortune had come up too suddenly for Sean to prepare. The plan was for Tiffany and Sean to wittle away Jason's clique, starting with the outer orbit which would have been easier. 

Sean nodded reluctantly at Kyle, "It's worth a shot, I suppose."

Kyle's mother was a slim petite woman looking comically small next to her towering son. His father would have blended perfectly with his son's varsity football team if not for the elegant Navy wool suit he was wearing. They were seated on the bench outside Pricipal Stewart;s office, looking worried.

"Cutting it a bit close, son," Mr. Green frowned glancing at the wall clock.

"I know, Dad," Kyle grimaced, "Mom. Dad. This is Sean Cook. He... he's going to be helping us present the truth to school management. Sean, this is my mom Amy, my dad Terrance." 

Amy Green frowned and shook Sean's hand, "Are you from a student group dedicated to legal representation, Sean? We have our own lawyer, but that's not..."

"Oh no, nothing of the sort," Sean assured them, "I just have a lot of experience... visiting the principal's office."

The Greens looked alarmed. Kyle looked up and down the corridor, pulling out a handkerchief to dab his forhead, "I have a confession, Mom. I... I punched Sean rather hard last week. Nothing personal. Jason hates his guts and I... I had to..."

Kyle's father looked flabbergasted, then his expression grew thunderous. Amy Green wilted before their eyes, her voice barely a whisper, "You have been bullying other students? I... I can't even imagine that one of my kids would... what else have you been hiding from me, Kyle? Is the drug test telling the truth? Have you been..."

"No, Mom, I swear..." Kyle looked like he was going to cry. His mother simply looked heartbroken. Sean swallowed when he remembered how his mother had looked after his own ill-fated attempt at breaking into Susan Fuller's home office.

Kyle's father cleared his throat ominously, "You and I are having a talk later, son. Your mother and I didn't put you in Cardiff High so you could turn into a hood." The last word was a roar.

The door to the principal's office opened and Principal Stewart poked out, "Mr. and Mrs. Green? The superintendent will see you now." He gloomy tone turned heavy with sarcasm when he noticed Sean, "Back from your little sabbatical I see. What do you want?"

"Our son seems to think Sean's presence will be useful," Mr. Green sounded mystified. 

Principal Stewart opened his mouth as if in protest but then grew thoughful. He shrugged, "Can't get any worse."

Sean felt almost nostalgic as they trooped in. The principal's chair was occupied by a dapper man wearing a tie and gold-rimmed glasses. He was slightly built and sported a trimmed mosutache.

Principal Stewart waved Kyle's parents into the two chairs across the desk and sank into a spare seat, "This is Superintendent Sade."

Kyle and Sean remained standing. Superintendent Sade announced blandly, "I've reviewed the situation. School rules disqualify your son from competing in inter-district sporting events. Pending confirmation of his drug test result."

"Missing the first match will set him back for college football scholarship," hissed Amy Green, "You know that. Let him play with presumption of innocence until the outside lab says otherwise... please."

"Our rules clearly specify that students cannot compete if there's probable cause of drug use," Sade droned monotonously, tapping a folder on the table, "Testing positive for recreational opiod use is clear probable cause. Portsmouth School District is committed to student integrity and character. The atheletic student body is no exception."

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"But I don't do drugs," Kyle wailed, glancing desperately at Sean, "I didn't even take any opiods when I got injured. You gotta believe me."

The superintendent looked at him disdainfully, "Youngsters today need to understand actions have consequences."

"We are contesting the constitutionality and legality of drug testing in school," growled Mr. Green, "You'll be hearing from our lawyer."

"You are welcome to go through proper channels," Sade smiled patronizingly, "It will not change your son's disqualification."

The pompous ass is on a power trip, realized Sean, immediately disliking the superintendent. He relishes this chance to dash an athelete's dreams.

"What if I convince you that testing positive is not probable cause?" Sean spoke up for the first time, "Will you let Kyle play then?"

"And you are?" The superintendent blinked as if noticing him for the first time.

"Sean Cook is one of our... academically gifted juniors," Principal Stewart cleared his throat, seeming to come to a decsion, "He has my permission to speak."

Old Stew Fart doesn't want to lose his star football player, realized Sean in surprise. For once, the principal wasn't an obstacle to be cleared.

"No test is 100% accurate," Sean stated, "What's the specificity of the test used on Kyle?"

"95%," Sade replied smugly, opening the folder and glancing inside, "Rather damning, don't you think."

"Why do you think so, sir?" Sean asked with deceptive mildness.

"The chances of Kyle's innocence given that he tested positive is only 5%," the superintendent spoke with exaggerated slowness as if to imply Sean was stupid.

Sean smiled disarmingly, "Tell me, sir, do you think random testing has been effective in reducing opiod abuse at Cardiff?"

"Extremely effective," Sade nodded loftily, "The estimated rate of opiod abuse has declined to 1% since the policy was implemented."

"So 1% of students at Cardiff are expected to be opiod abusers at any given time?" Sean prodded.

"That's what I said," snapped the superintendent, "Are you deaf?"

"Cardiff has around 2000 students," Sean ignored the insult, "So only 20 of them would be opiod abusers. Since most students aren't opiod abusers, the 5% false positive rate means that almost a 100 students would test positive while being innocent. Kyle is five times more likely to be innocent than an opiod abuser."

Principal Stewart was nodding slowly as he chewed over Sean's argument. Hope was beginning to dawn on Kyle's face. Kyle's parents looked stunned.

"What," Sade said flatly.

"We are really talking about two different questions here," Sean nodded, walking over to the whiteboard on the wall, "May I?"

"By all means," Principal Stewart waved magnanimously. Sean picked up a marker and began to write.

"Let's denote the evidence by the letter E, and Kyle's innocence by the letter I," Sean tapped on the whiteboard, "P(E|I) is the probability that the test would show positive even when Kyle is innocent. P(I|E) is the probability that the Kyle is innocent despite the test showing positive. They sort of sound the same but they are really not. When you claimed the chances of Kyle's innocence was only 5% you were actually talking about the first probability. What we really want to know is the second probability. That's what I worked out earlier."

Principal Stewart nodded, "He's right."

"That's ridiculous," Sade blustered, looking uncertain now, "If that's the case, no cop could arrest anyone after administering a DUI test."

"I'm glad you mentioned that," Sean smiled, "because that's not the same situation at all. A driver usually gets pulled over for a DUI test after he has already shown signs of erratic driving. His innocence can be estimated by multiplying two different unconditionally probabilities, which gives a vanishingly small chance of innocence."

"We must agree to disagree," Sade muttered stubbornly, "My decision stands."

"I can ask Julia Thornton from the school board, what she thinks," Sean suggested, "She's pretty good at this sort of thing."

"You... you are acquainted with Mrs. Thornton?" the superintendent's face grew a shade paler.

"Sure," nodded Sean cheerfully, "I was an intern at her company in New Haven. We are practically best buds."

Sade's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, "Now that I think about it... I see the merit of your argument. I shall suspend judgement until the lab tests are in. Kyle may compete in the inter-district championship this week. Now I really must get going, I am late for an appointment."

Sean smiled. 

#

Olivia Ward barely noticed the sting of late-autumn seabreeze as she wiped away sweat from her eyes. The cheers of her teammates dwindled to scattered applause, but the warm glow they induced still lingered. She got to her feet wearily brushing away grass stains, exhilarated to make that diving save even if it was only a practice game. The pressure of being a varsity goalkeeper and singlehandedly carrying the fate of the team was getting to her. Unlike her teammates, hers was a lonely vigil where the thrill of success faded quickly and the weight of failure permanently etched into the opposing team's score. There was no room for error, now that she was a senior. This wasn't her first varisty season, but in the playoffs this fall she'd felt the entire crowd watching her. Just waiting for her to screw up. As they well might. The away matches had been brutal enough, but October was ending and there was little doubt that Cardiff would rank high enough to qualify. The looming inter-district championship was causing a flutter in her stomach. The other schools had teams and goalies every bit as determined as Olivia was, products of a selection process that pushed them to the asymptotic limit. In recent years even extra time following regulation play didn't break a tie. 

"Olivia, over here," someone called out from a cluster of half a dozen the girls. Olivia strolled up to them. Her teammates looked even more exhausted than she felt.

"Nice save, Olivia," Susan K the captain, smiled warmly, "Up for some more? I need these five to practice their penalty kicks."

Olivia groaned. The bane of goalies, three out of four penalty kicks could not be saved. Given the proximity of the kick, human reaction time was too slow. The goalie had to guess the kicker's intent and commit to a dive before the kick commenced. What was the point of practicing something that came down to dumb luck? Her faint hopes of a college soccer scholarship dashed by what was basically a coin toss.

"Ever used contact lenses, Olivia?" the captain asked, looking a little embarrased. Huh? Loitering behind the captain were two boys and a girl who wasn't on the team. The girl was short with East Asian features, smiling uncertainly when she met Olivia's eyes.

"May Lee, right?" Olivia frowned, recalling her from AP Chem.

"It's Mei Ling," the girl stammered, blushing beet red for some reason. One of the boys was tall and lanky with wiry brown hair. Olivia recognized him as Kaitlin's brother who sometimes hung around during his sister's practice, though she didn't remember his name. He grinned at her impudently, his grin fading a bit as Olivia fixed him with a stare.

"What's up, bro?" Kaitlin sauntered up to her brother.

"Eww, you need a shower," her brother pushed her away, then yelled as his sister bounced the soccer ball she'd been carrying off his head.

"We just had practice, you asshat," Kaitlin muttered crossly. Her face lit up at the other boy, "Hi Sean, glad to have you back. And your cast is finally off!"

The other boy, Sean, wasn't as tall as Kaitlin's brother but caught Olivia's eye for some reason. Straight dark hair fell below his shoulders, past cheekbones sharp as flint. It was his eyes that disturbed her. They had the dead but intense look she'd seen on kids cramming for exams. She had heard her teammates mention his name in passing. Some scrawny nerd who couldn't kick a soccer ball if his life depended on it, telling them how to improve their game. That'd be the day, Olivia's lips curled in derision.

"Randall here has cooked up some predictive software," Sean's gaze passed over her, through her, as if addressing a part of her that only he could see. He held up a bottle labeled as contact lens solution and a tiny case in the palm of the other hand, "We'd like you to test it for us..."

"What are you talking about?" Olivia interrupted, in no mood for games. A bunch of wierdos, she thought, mentally dismissing Mei Ling and her two male friends.

"Sean has acquired these experimental contact lenses that act like miniaturized dipslays," the captain explained as Randall pulled out a slim box the size of a portable harddrive, "It's wirelessly linked to this processor that they claim can predict where a penalty kick is headed... yes, I know how that sounds. But they want you to wear it for a field test... no harm in trying? If it works..."

"Yeah, right," Olivia scoffed, "Can't this wait, Suze? We are all dead tired..."

"Actually it can't," Sean shook his head, "We need to duplicate the same mental states both teams will have at the end of a tie match. Exhaustion, muscle fatigue, hunger, thirst, all of it. That's when your frontal cortex is at its lowest and the limbic system is in full control. That's what Randall's code is calibrated to."

"Thanks a lot, dork," Olivia growled and grabbed the contact lens case and bottle from Sean as she headed to the locker room, "Give me a few minutes, Suze."

When Olivia returned, the captain said briskly, "Alright, girls. Don't pull any punches just because Olivia is your practice..."

"Bet your ass, I won't pull any punches," Phyllis Gibbs barked a laugh.

Susan ignored the interruption, "Olivia, this will sound wierd, but don't follow your instinct for this session at least. Do what the predictive software says."

Olivia nodded dubiously, clipping the Sculptsight processor to her belt as she headed back to the net. The soccer field floodlights cast their pitiless glare, mute sentinels gathering to witness her humiliation. The five that Olivia had handpicked stood in a loose semicircle just outside the penalty area. The captain and the trio of nerds stood farther away. Kaitlin placed the ball on the penalty mark and stepped back in position. Olivia glanced down at her feet to ensure she was on the goal line and crouched into her stance.

>Initializing... The amber letters appeared suddenly next to a blinking cursor in the bottom corner of her vision apparently floating in thin air. Olivia flinched and cursed. Susan blew the whistle. Kaitlin lunged forward.

>Searching database... You got to be shitting me, Olivia's lips twisted into a snarl. She dismissed the diagnostic from her mind, ready to go with her instinct when the lower right of her vision lit up with a translucent arc. The blue hues on the indicator were so soothing, so compelling, she reflexively dove towards it. Kaitlin feinted to Olivia's left and then landed the kick. The ball shot toward Olivia and smacked into her shoulder, deflecting and missing the goal. Her gathered teammates murmured in appreciation. A fluke, thought Olivia as she got up. Even a die roll would guess correctly sometimes. 

The blinking cursor had disappeared as Olivia prepared for the second kick. There were no more diagnostics, presumably because initialization was complete, but for all she knew the damn thing had crashed. So she was a bit surprised when the indicator appeared, this time pointing to her upper right as the kicker contacted the ball. Olivia put all her effort into the jump to make it to where the software was pointing. It was almost not enough. The ball glanced off her wrist and then hit the outer edge of the post. It was a save. Olivia got up winded and rubbed her stinging wrist. Her teammates looked surprised.

The third kick was easier to stop, with the indicator pointing to her lower left. The other girls were completely silent as Olivia threw the ball back. Phyllis took the fourth kick. The indicator blinked to Olivia's lower left and then to her lower right and back again as if it couldn't make up it's mind. What the... Olivia had already committed to the dive as the ball shot past her into the net. Phyllis gave a whoop of joy, fist in the air. She had kicked the ball dead center. So that's why the indicator had vacillated, Olivia's confidence in Randall's software solidified oddly enough. The indicator held steady for the fifth kick as Olivia intercepted the ball with a leap to her lower right. The other girls stared in stunned silence. Four out of five penalty kicks saved. Olivia doubted even a professional soccer goalie could pull that off. Mei Ling and Sean exchanged a silent high-five. Randall's creepy grin intensified.

"Well... shit," was the captain's only comment.

#