“That girl is a student of this school and under its protection.”
“This school…” He huffed. “This school has been hiding and protecting Joe Solomon for over a year!” I was inching back, farther away from the man and his fury. “This school took in a known child of the Circle and then allowed four of its students to attempt to save another!”
Madame Dabney came running forward. “Patricia, what’s the meaning of this?”
But Professor Buckingham never took her gaze off Agent Edwards. “These men were just leaving.”
“Oh, we’ll leave.” Agent Edwards laughed. “But we won’t be leaving alone.”
“Cammie!” Professor Buckingham shouted. “Now!”
Chapter Twenty-one
I didn’t have to be told twice. I’d been given a direct order from a teacher. I knew what I had to do. I could hear the commotion behind me. Buckingham took a globe from the CIA’s booth and hurled it at Agent Edwards’s head, and when he ducked she brought a knee up into his face, bloodying his nose and knocking him, disoriented, to the ground.
Madame Dabney tripped one of the two goons who were supposed to be capturing me and pushed the other into the Secret Service’s booth, sending a perfectly scaled replica of the White House crashing to the floor.
In a flash, the entire Grand Hall was in chaos. It was like a street fight. A brawl.
Seventh graders jumped onto the backs of FBI agents. Seniors squared off against the CIA. It wasn’t cat versus mouse; it was spy versus spy, and I didn’t turn around to look at the destruction that I was leaving in my wake.
I was too busy trying to think: Where would Zach go? What would Zach do? He had to get away from the people chasing him, lose them somewhere in the classrooms or halls. Or passageways.
Hiding would have been easy—he had home-court advantage. But hiding wasn’t going to be enough. If they knew he was at the Gallagher Academy, he wasn’t going to be safe at the Gallagher Academy. Zach was going to have to run.
And then I knew where he’d be going.
I grabbed the banister of the nearest staircase and flung myself around, taking the steps two at a time, desperate not to be followed. And then I darted down the narrow hall lined with larger, more private rooms until I reached the only one that wasn’t used by a teacher.
When I reached the door of Zach’s room I burst through without knocking, which—to tell you the truth—was something of a mistake, because before my eyes even adjusted to the black, I felt a blow knocking me forward, off my feet and into the dresser.
“Gallagher Girl,” Zach said. He sounded furious and ashamed, both.
“Are you okay?” His hands were on me then, checking my head and my arms.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m so sorry. I thought you were—”
“I know.”
“Who are they?” he asked.
“Interpol. CIA. They’re everyone, Zach. And they’re looking for you.”
There was a backpack on his bed. He never carried it to class, and immediately I knew that it wasn’t for textbooks and homework. He kept that bag packed and ready at all times, just in case he had to run.
I knew because I had a bag just like it.
I heard noises, footsteps pounding up the stairs.
“Come on,” I said, reaching for his hand. “We’ve got to disappear.”
And then I led him down the hall. When we reached a maintenance closet, I pulled him inside. It was too small, though. I’d never shared it with anyone before, and I found myself pressed against Zach, his arms around me, his backpack at our feet.
“That’s his room!” someone said. They knocked down the door of his bedroom while Zach and I stayed pressed together in the black. “Find them!”
“Are you going to hide me in here forever?” he whispered.