26 Students Remaining
Sullivan Hall is dark and vacant when we arrive. Ian takes me in through the back entrance and leads me to the Records Room. But when we reach it, he stops, looking suddenly nervous.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” His voice is a cautious murmur. “If they catch us in here—”
“You’re worried about getting caught?”
He glowers at me. “Just because I like to break the rules doesn’t mean I have any interest in getting caught.” He glances at the Records Room door. “If you give me a few days—”
But I’m already shaking my head. “I don’t want to wait. So many kids have already left the school…who knows how many more will disappear in a few days? I want to know what’s going on now.”
I expect him to argue with me, like Rani did, but he just shrugs. “Fair enough.” He raises the key card to the lock. There’s a beep and a flash of green, and Ian pushes the door open. “What exactly do you think we’re going to find in here?”
“It’s called a Records Room. They have to keep records of who left and why and where they went, right?
” I step inside, my footsteps echoing hollowly off the walls.
The room itself is nothing special. A desktop computer takes up the center of the space, a wide monitor filling the modern desk beneath it.
File cabinets line the walls behind the desk, drawers blending seamlessly into the walls.
It’s all sleek and understated, the color scheme varying shades of white and cream. Whoever decorated this place had taste.
I turn in place, eyes moving over the file cabinets. “They must have files on all of us,” I murmur, thinking of what Ashlyn said during our first guidance meeting about how I have a history of pushing boundaries and questioning authority. What else does my file say about me?
I reach for one of the file cabinet drawers. There’s no handle, just a slight indentation in the wood where you can pull the drawer open. I pull: The drawer doesn’t budge. I feel a twinge of annoyance at my past self for forgetting to grab my lockpick set. I’m out of practice.
I look over my shoulder at Ian. The moonlight from the window hits him square in the face, turning his eyes almost silver. “Are you going to help, or are you just going to stand there and brood?”
“Brooding’s kind of my specialty,” he mutters. He doesn’t move from his position in the doorway, except to cast one anxious glance down the hall. “Did you hear that?”
Wow, is he nervous? It’s kind of adorable, like a Siberian husky cowering under the bed because of a little thunder. I feel the corners of my lips curl up, a smile I can’t hide.
“You’re twitchy,” I tease him.
He glares at me. “If they find us, they’ll expel me, too.”
“Right. You’re an accessory to me walking into a room.” I move to the computer and switch it on. It takes a moment to buzz to life. And then a password screen appears.
I glance around the table, but it’s completely bare, not even a pencil jar or a potted plant to clutter up the space. And even if there were, I sincerely doubt I would conveniently find the password written on the bottom of some stapler in here. Whoever owns this office is smarter than that.
I sigh, eyes flicking back to the screen. And now I notice something strange. The computer’s not password protected, like I originally thought.
It’s riddle protected.
I lean closer, my heart going crazy in my chest. “ ‘I have cities but no houses,’ ” I read out loud. “ ‘I have mountains but no trees. I have water but no fish. What am I?’ ”
I blink, studying the riddle for a few moments. It might as well be written in another language. I have no idea what the answer is. I don’t even have a guess.
“Any ideas?” I ask, glancing back to the doorway.
But the doorway’s empty. Ian’s gone.
A disproportionate flare of disappointment twists through me. I can’t believe he just left me here. It had started to seem like we were becoming…well, not friends. Obviously. Can you ever be friends with a scorpion? No, you cannot. You’d just keep waiting for it to sting you.
But I figured he’d watch the door for me.
Embarrassment settles in my gut. I turn back to the computer, cheeks burning as I go over the riddle one more time.
Mountains but no trees…water but no fish…
I’m still working through this when my mind snags on something else, something important. For a few seconds I’m too focused on the riddle to pay attention. And then I hear it again. Down the hall and not nearly far enough away for comfort: footsteps.
My chest clenches. Someone’s coming.
I leap out of the chair, switch off the computer, and roll the chair back under the desk, eyes scanning the room for another exit, a closet I can hide inside. Anything.
But there isn’t another door—there isn’t even a piece of furniture large enough to hide my body.
The file cabinets are built into the walls, and the desk is as sleek as a fashion model, with long, skinny legs and a thin, flat top.
I suppose I could crawl underneath. But then I’d just look like a girl crouched beneath a desk.
The footsteps are closer now. Right outside, in fact. No time to hide. My only hope is to make a run for it and pray that no one will be able to make out my identity in the dark. I dart out of the room—
And slam right into Ashlyn.
“Lia,” she hisses, her voice a furious whisper. Her hands come to my shoulders, pinning me in place. “What are you doing here?”
I feel a sinking in my stomach. I swallow, searching my mind for an excuse. “I—I—”
But Ashlyn only lifts a hand, stopping me before I can come up with anything. “No, don’t say anything, it’s better if I don’t know. This is bad, Lia.” She glances over her shoulder again, then starts gnawing on her thumbnail. “This is really, really bad.”