I clenched my eyes shut. “The chemistry lab. Shortie broke something.”

Khail punched the door and let out a string of swears that would have earned him about six detentions. “It must have had chemicals in it.”

“I have to go check it out.” I turned and Khail nearly pulled my arm out of my socket yanking me back.

“There’s nothing you can do and the firemen will be here in three minutes. Maybe less. We gotta get out of here.”

“But—”

Khail grabbed me by both shoulders and put his face close to mine. “Are you a fireman, Jeff?”

I shook my head convulsively.

“Then leave it to the professionals. Send ghost girl to check it out if you have to, but we are leaving now.”

We ran to the truck and Khail took about three seconds to do a quick head count before starting the engine and peeling out of the parking lot.

Hands down the fastest and most nerve-racking ten minutes of my life. Maybe twelve.

And Kimberlee wasn’t here to see it.

She’d have loved it.

But she never showed up.

We were driving at a very reasonable three miles above the speed limit when I heard the sirens. Khail turned off the main road before I saw them, but in my mind’s eye they pulled up in front of a Whitestone completely engulfed in flames.

Khail dropped me off about three minutes later, barely slowing down enough for me to get out of the car safely. I managed to make my way back through the security obstacle course that is my house, but my nerves were still crackling so I plugged my noise-canceling headphones into my iPod and cranked it. I lay on my bed, my eardrums throbbing with the volume of my music and slowly—very, very slowly—started to relax.

It was almost an hour before I finally felt the disposable phone vibrate in my pocket. I sat up and yanked off my headphones. “Yeah?” I said in a low voice.

“We’re good,” Khail said softly. “All the guys are home—everything got delivered, and when I drove by the school it looked like the fire trucks were packing up.”

“You saw the school? Did it look like anyone else was there? Hennigan? Bailey?”

“No clue. I didn’t even slow down. Besides, she’ll tell you everything later.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” I said evasively. “I just wondered.” I hesitated. “So we’re good? The school didn’t burn down and no one got caught, right?”

“We are golden, bro. Totally golden.”

Twenty-Three

THE NEXT MORNING WAS LIKE a nightmare come true.

When I arrived at school, hired security guards were standing at the doors, directing us to go to the gym for a last-minute assembly. I knew it had to be about us. I wished I could talk to Khail . . . or even Shortie. But we had all decided that, at least until all of this was over, we had to act like we didn’t know one another in school.

I did manage to find Sera, though. “What do you think’s going on?” she asked after greeting me with a kiss that had me desperately wishing we could ditch the assembly.

“Not a clue,” I lied.

She slipped her hand into mine and we walked into the gym together, me trying to subtly sniff the air for smoke. But everything looked and smelled okay. So far.

All around me were confused whispers and people asking what was happening. I heard a few people mention the fire trucks, but half of the students seemed to think that was an exaggerated rumor.

Once most of the students had taken their seats, Mr. Hennigan walked to the middle of the gym, where a podium was set up.

Then he just stood there.

The students quieted at first, and then got fidgety as the silence continued to stretch. I swear he stood up there in front of us for ten minutes. When he finally did speak, it was in a low, simmering tone that sent shivers up my spine.

“A terrible—not to mention expensive—act of vandalism was committed yesterday,” he said.

Expensive? That made my stomach do rather uncomfortable things.

“The details are unimportant. I won’t glamorize this incident by spreading rumors that will only encourage the perpetrator. Perpetrators, I should say.” He straightened and cleared his throat, becoming almost businesslike. “You will have one chance, and one chance only, to turn yourself in. If you choose to do so, I will be lenient with the consequences.”

Something in his tone told me that was a barefaced lie.

“But after today, I will use every resource I can to catch you, and I will make you pay.” He paused and his eyes swept the bleachers, seeming to take in every student. “I want everyone to understand that just because this person is returning things that were once stolen from you does not make him a hero. He is not the good guy here. And,” Mr. Hennigan added, “if anyone here wants to help this person do the right thing, well”—a dry chuckle escaped his throat—“you know where my office is. Also, Mrs. Campbell’s classes will be meeting in Mr. Lewis’s lab today. That is all.”

Without another word, Mr. Hennigan left the podium and strode purposefully toward the double doors.

Leaving Kimberlee in his place.

“Indeed!” she shouted, waving her fist. “You are all my slaves and will help me catch this terrible, terrible person who—by the way—eats babies for lunch. Babies!” she shouted again.

I knew no one else could see or hear her, but I was already overly paranoid and couldn’t help glancing covertly around to make sure.