The Anti-Prom - By Abby McDonald Page 0,50

takes a few steps toward the hallway, sweeping his flashlight into the dark. If he goes back there, then it’s all over. He’ll find the broken glass, and Bliss and Jolene, and all the innocent explanations in the world won’t make a difference in our fates.

Do something.

My eyes land on the tank in the corner. “The fish!”

He pauses. “What was that?”

“I came to feed the fish!” I scoot toward the corner, praying the guard follows me. He doesn’t move. “They’re really rare,” I announce, desperate. “A special tropical breed. Look!”

Finally, he clicks off his flashlight and strolls back across the lobby.

“I’m supposed to look after them, you see,” I explain loudly, waving at the tank. “Only, I forgot. And it’s the weekend, and if I left them all that time without food, they’d die, and my boss would kill me, and . . .” I take a ragged breath, blood pounding in my ears.

The guard peers through the glass at the whirl of tiny, gold-flecked scales. “Huh. They’re special, you say?”

“My boss imported them from . . . Brazil,” I agree. “I was already at prom when I remembered, so I thought if I came back in, then I could feed them, and nobody would know.” I fix him with my best innocent look, wide-eyed and virtuous.

“Prom?” He snaps his fingers, recognition dawning. “East Midlands High, right? My sister’s kid goes there. Georgia Hayes. You know her?”

“Yes!” I nod furiously. “We have Lit class together.”

Reassured, the guard seems to relax. “Still, it’s against the rules to be creeping around so late,” he scolds me lightly. “I’m supposed to report anyone I see out here.”

“But I’ll get fired for sure if they know I forgot!” I try my best to look tragic, quivering my lower lip and blinking in an attempt to muster some tears. Bliss should be the one here; God knows she’s the drama queen, but maybe I have some talent after all, because the guard sighs.

“It doesn’t seem like there’s anything damaged,” he agrees, looking around. “And if I make sure you lock up on your way out . . .”

Lock up? I freeze. I told him I had keys, but how am I supposed to fake that?

“Thanks!” I try, my voice quivering. “That’s so nice of you.” I stall for time, taking the box of feed from beside the tank and shaking it slowly over the surface of the water while my mind races for an answer.

What on earth am I supposed to do now?

“Do you . . . need to go patrol the rest of the complex?” I ask hopefully. “Because I can close up here by myself. I don’t want to waste any more of your time,” I add.

“No, it’s fine.” The guard checks his receiver again, but there’s nothing but static. “I need to go check the battery on this thing. But we’ll get this place locked up nice and tight first.”

“Uh-huh,” I murmur. Then I catch a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye. Jolene. She edges out from the hallway and gestures, waving a set of keys at me. The guard follows my gaze and begins to turn.

“Do you think they look OK?” I squeak. “The fish, I mean!”

He turns back. “What?”

“Because I left them hours without food. Will that be OK, do you think? They seem kind of sluggish. . . .” As I babble about feeding times and whether they’re about to go belly-up on me, I see Jolene sneak across the room and place the keys on a table next to the alarm panel. She scurries back, out of sight.

“But you know, I think they’ll be fine,” I finish abruptly, slamming the lid back into place. “And I need to get home. I don’t want my parents worrying.”

Scurrying over to the alarm panel, I scoop up the keys. Beside them is a scrap of paper with a scribbled alarm code. I tap in the digits, watching anxiously as the green light turns red and the thing emits a high-pitched beep of confirmation. “See?” I tell the guard, dizzy with relief. “All secure.”

I lock up behind us, my hands shaking so much I almost drop the keys, but at last, it’s done. “I have to go now. My parents will be waiting.” I back away, controlling the urge to simply turn and run.

“You take care now.” The guard nods, strolling back toward his car. “And tell Georgia hey from me.”

“I will!”

I hurry back down the dark street,