Kingdom Keepers IV(40)

“We have big imaginations,” Charlene said, increasing her hold, and winning a wince of pain on Sally’s face.

“Your kind think ‘dreams really do come true’? Then dream on.”

Charlene flashed Amanda a look—her signal she couldn’t hold on much longer. Amanda had been expecting it. She nodded.

“Now!” Amanda called out.

Charlene let go and rolled.

Amanda pushed, sending Sally into a back somersault and into another music stand and more chairs. She and Charlene ran for the door. They got into the hall, and both girls grabbed the door handle together and held on.

The door was struck from the other side by what sounded like a truck. The entire jamb dislocated in the masonry wall.

“On three,” Amanda said. “One…two…three!”

They let go of the door handle, stripped off the panty hose masks, and ran as fast as they’d ever run for the stairway. They heard an enormous crash behind them as they climbed the stairs out of breath.

Reaching the mob scene of students, they slowed, hooked elbows, and walked calmly into the surge of bodies. They heard footsteps flying up the stairs behind them, but never looked back. They were deep enough into the mob that their clothes could not be seen to be identified. They turned into the lunchroom packed with other students.

Amanda looked around for Finn.

He wasn’t there.





FINN SAW GREG LUOWSKI down the school hallway standing at a locker, and recalled their strange encounter on the street. An agent for the Overtakers? Was it possible? Did Wayne’s Kim Possible message about friends turning their backs on you have something to do with Luowski, or only Charlene’s erratic behavior? Luowski could never be considered a friend to Finn, but did Wayne know that?

Next he spotted a woman, wearing a visitor’s sticker, down the hall. She was staring at him, her face vaguely familiar yet unknown to him. The way her gaze locked onto him he had no doubt she was there to see him. Worse, she was upset. Any kid knew that look on the face of a grown-up.

That was when he realized how a stranger could look so familiar: behind the crinkly eyes and puckered lips, Willa looked back at him.

The woman started toward him at the same time Luowski caught Finn staring. Luowski’s menacing expression seemed to say, “You want something?”

Finn looked away rather than provoke the bulldog. He didn’t need Luowski in his face.

“Finn Whitman,” the woman said, now upon him. “I’m—”

“Willa’s mom,” Finn said.

“Yes. We’ve met before but it was some time ago. I need a word with you.”

Perfect! What had he done now?

“You have a class in five minutes, so it needs to be now. Right now. That, or we can do this with your parents after school.”

His father? No way! “Next period’s my lunch period,” Finn said. “I’m okay.” Anything but his father.

“Is there someplace we can talk?”

Gulp.

Finn checked out a classroom. Then another. He held the door for her, hoping it might score some points. They entered.

She studied the classroom as if making sure they were alone.

Double gulp.

She ran her tongue into her upper teeth. When his mom did that it was to bite back her words, to keep herself from saying the first thing that came to mind.

“I don’t know where to begin,” she said. “Whatever’s going on, young man, whatever you’re up to, you had better stop it, you had better fix it right now.”

Finn’s heart beat so powerfully that it occupied his entire torso. He was having trouble breathing. He could tell she was just getting warmed up. He held back the wisecracks, wondering why they always came to mind when he found himself in trouble.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m in no mood to play games.”

She’d been crying. He understood that now. Red eyes. Fatigue.

“Say something!” she insisted.

He shrugged. She hadn’t left him many options: he had no idea what she was talking about, but had warned him not to say so.

“Willa is not in school today, in case you haven’t heard.” Her eyes had narrowed to little lasers.

“I didn’t know,” he said.

“No, of course you didn’t,” she said sarcastically, making him feel like a liar. His parents did this all the time—answered their own question before giving Finn a chance to speak.

“She doesn’t go here,” he reminded her. How was he supposed to know that Willa had skipped school? Why was he suddenly responsible?

“She’s in bed. Asleep.” Willa’s mother puckered her lips as if about to cry. “Asleep, as in unable to wake up. Like Terrence Maybeck that time. You all have a name for it, I believe? Sleeping Beauty? Something like that.”