"I thought those were for decoration," Zach yelled through the pulsing sirens.
"If everything goes right, they are."
"So this means …"
Formally attired men and women from the maintenance and security departments ran past us, but didn't stop.
"Something is seriously not right."
Bookcases slid into walls, doors swung closed, locks slid into place, and I struggled to yell over the sirens.
"It's security protocol," I said. "There must have been a breach. The whole system goes into lockdown—nothing gets in."
Then, as if to prove my point, steel doors fell from the crown molding, sealing the hallway behind us. "And nothing gets out."
As we ran past the library, I noticed motion through the glass panes and saw that the bookshelves, the couches—the entire room—was spinning, sinking, spiraling into the floor, disappearing before my very eyes.
"Does this happen a lot?" he asked, and the answer was maybe the most terrifying thing of all.
"No."
When we reached the foyer I saw that the front doors had been covered with the kind of metal used on space shuttles and nuclear missile silos. Emergency lights burned in the rafters, casting an eerie red glow over the place I knew well but barely recognized.
I rushed toward the doors of the Grand Hall, but then the sirens stopped. Silence filled my school like a tomb.
The doors to the Grand Hall suddenly swept open, and a hundred pairs of eyes and at least a dozen very powerful flashlights pointed right at me. I squinted and shielded my face against the glare. And that's when I realized that Zach was no longer holding my hand. I glanced behind me, but he was gone.
"Ms. Morgan," Buckingham exclaimed when she saw me standing alone in the dark, deserted foyer. "Exactly where have you been? There is an exam taking place, Ms. Morgan—not to mention a Level Four security infraction. Now, why weren't you in the Grand Hall with your classmates?"
But before I could answer, I heard a voice call, "Cameron!" I looked to the balcony overhead to see my mother staring down. "Come up here. Now!"
The Gallagher Academy is protected by lots of things: Our walls. Our legends. And some very impressive electrical gadgets that block any and all electronic frequencies from penetrating our air space. But that night, something—or someone—had tried to get in. Or tried to get out. So it wasn't any wonder my legs felt a little unsteady as I started up the stairs.
Professor Dabney stood at the top of the stairs, shining a light on the second-story landing, and one look at her stern expression was enough to tell me that this was no drill.
I turned into the Hall of History, where I had seen display cases spin around and disguise themselves for the benefit of strangers: but that night they weren't hidden—they were locked behind reinforced steel doors; walls had swallowed shelves whole, and Gillian Gallagher's sword had sunk into a vault, protected, secure in its place as our most precious treasure. It was a side of my school I'd never seen, and even though I had always known that a Code Red protects us from strangers, and a Code Black protects us from enemies, the difference had never seemed so big until then.
"Cameron," my mother called from her office doorway— not Cam, not Cammie, not sweetheart or sweetie or honey or … Well, you get the picture. We were in full-name territory, and personally, I was starting to wish the big, honking sirens would come back.
"Mom, I didn't do anything!"
But instead of a show of motherly support, Mom stepped aside and said, "Come in."
Her bookshelves had been sealed with titanium shutters, her filing cabinets had disappeared into the floor, and in the corner her burn box was still smoking, but I couldn't look away from my mother, because the expression on her face wasn't disappointment or anger, but something no girl ever wants to see on her super-spy mother's face: fear. She sat behind her desk, more headmistress than mother now.
"What happened?" I heard the panic in my own voice. "What's going on?" I asked.
"You left the Grand Hall tonight?" The voice behind me made me jump, and I turned to see Mr. Solomon leaning against the bookcases behind me, arms crossed just like I'd seen him do a hundred times in class. Somehow, though, I felt I was about to hear a very different type of lecture.
"I didn't do anything," I said again, because even though I've been behind my share of Gallagher Academy security infractions, I have never managed anything greater than a Level Two. (I know—Liz hacked into my student file and told me.)
"Cammie," Mom said calmly. "I need to know why you left the Grand Hall tonight."
Okay, it's one thing to tell your mother about undergarment emergencies, but it's quite another to share them with your teacher—especially a teacher like Joe Solomon, so I shrugged and said, "I … uh … had a clothing…malfunction."
"Oh," Mom said, nodding.
"And you left the Grand Hall?" Mr. Solomon asked, not stopping to ask which article of clothing. "Where did you go? Who did you see?"
"Mom," I pleaded as I searched my mother's eyes through the glow of the emergency lights that filled her office, "what's this all about?"
But Mom didn't answer.
"Did you try to leave the mansion tonight, Ms. Morgan?" Mr. Solomon demanded.
"No," I said.
"Cam," Mom said. "You won't be in trouble, but we need to know the truth."