CHAPTER SIX — THE CASE IN THE DRIVEWAY

Oliver had almost reached his rented car when Ethan stepped through the side gate.
Ms. Rios followed him, and the students came out behind her.
The black equipment case rested on the pavement beside the open trunk.
Oliver looked at the group and sighed.
“This is becoming unnecessarily dramatic.”
“What is in that case?” Ms. Rios asked.
“Company property.”
“Is any of it student property?”
“The distinction is complicated.”
“Open it and make the distinction simple,” Ethan said.
Oliver shut the trunk without putting the case inside.
“I am not obligated to let strangers search my possessions.”
“You’re right,” Ethan replied.
“But you’re also not authorized to remove equipment belonging to the children.”
“I have receipts.”
“So do they.”
Oliver studied the adults,

searching for an ally.
His eyes settled on Nell.
“I hoped we could keep our earlier conversation private,” he said.
Nell glanced at her mother.
“You shouldn’t have asked me to keep it private.”
Oliver’s face tightened.
“You entered this property without permission.”
“I did,” Nell answered.
“I was wrong to do that.”
She took a breath.
“But I didn’t steal your design.”
For a moment, Oliver seemed surprised that she had admitted her mistake without surrendering the argument.
He changed direction.
“This could all be settled with a demonstration tomorrow.”
“A demonstration of whose machine?” Priya demanded.
“Blue Current’s autonomous platform.”
“The one with our propeller guard?”
“Engineers often arrive at similar solutions.”
“Then why did you request our design files?”
Oliver’s jaw shifted.
“To evaluate your progress.”
Ms.

Rios stepped between the teenagers and the car.
“Nobody needs to prove ownership in this driveway,” she said.
“What we need is an inventory and a clear agreement that no student equipment leaves without permission.”
Oliver pulled out his phone.
“I’ll call our attorney.”
“You may,” Ms. Rios replied.
“I am calling the parents who are expecting you to judge their children tomorrow.”
The word parents changed Oliver’s expression more than attorney had changed hers.
He picked up the case.
“It’s just battery management hardware,” he said.
“Then you should have no reason to hide the label,” Ethan replied.
The case had a paper shipping tag tucked behind its handle.
Ethan saw a familiar school name printed on it.
It was the name of Priya’s school.
Priya stepped forward and pointed.
“That case came to our workshop in February.”
Oliver covered the tag with his hand.
“It was donated.”
“The box was donated,” Priya said.
“The equipment inside was ours.”
“You don’t know what’s inside.”
“Then show us.”
Oliver hesitated before setting the case down.
He opened the latches slowly.
Inside lay a computer module, two orange housings, and a pile of neatly coiled cables.
None of the pieces were obviously stolen.
But the computer module had a crooked strip of silver tape along one edge.
Mateo leaned forward.
“I did that,” he said.
Oliver laughed once.
“Many people use silver tape.”
“I put it there because the mounting hole was stripped,” Mateo said.
“Under it, you’ll find a piece of pencil lead I used to mark the center.”
Ethan looked at Oliver.
“May he check?”
Oliver did not answer.
Mateo peeled back a corner of the tape.
The gray mark was there.
He stopped without removing anything further.
The discovery was small and unimpressive to anyone who had not spent months helping children build machines.
To Ethan, it was unmistakable.
A boy recognized a repair he had made with his own hands.
“Why is that in your case?” Ms. Rios asked.
Oliver closed his eyes for a second.
“It was incorporated into our prototype.”
“With permission?”
“The participation agreement allows use of submitted materials.”
“The participation agreement allows evaluation,” Ms. Rios replied.
“It doesn’t allow you to dismantle a child’s machine and claim the parts as yours.”
Oliver’s phone rang.
He glanced at the caller name and walked several paces away.
“I need to take this.”
Ethan heard only fragments.
“They’re causing delays,” Oliver said.
“No, the venue isn’t ready.”
A sharp voice came through the phone speaker, and Oliver turned the volume down.
The call ended after less than a minute.
He returned looking more exhausted than angry.
“My investors arrive at five,” he said.
“They have traveled from out of state.”
“They can meet the students,” Ethan replied.
“They are expecting a product demonstration.”
“Then tell them exactly what product they’re coming to see.”
Oliver stared at him.
“You really don’t understand what happens when funding disappears.”
“I understand what happens when you promise scholarships using someone else’s work,” Ethan said.
He surprised himself with the force of the answer.
Oliver locked the case again.
“I’ll leave the equipment here until we sort this out.”
He dragged it back into the garage, then disappeared into the house.
The teenagers remained silent for a moment.
Sam asked the question that mattered to them.
“Does this mean there’s no contest tomorrow?”
Ethan looked at the brown water beyond the fence.
“There won’t be a contest in that pool tomorrow,” he said.
“But there may still be something worth showing.”