“How should I know?” Isobel heard Gwen say. “She and I aren’t even friends anymore.”

Isobel ducked below the stair railing. Balancing on her haunches, she rose up just enough to peek over the low wall.

Catching sight of Mr. Nott’s salt-and-pepper hair and Principal Finch’s gleaming bald head, she realized that the administrators must be the “they” Reynolds had been referring to. She was a little relieved, seeing as the other option possessed claws and smiles filled with jagged teeth.

How long had the school known she was missing?

Had someone contacted her parents?

Her dad was going to go nuclear.

“Of course,” Gwen went on while she glowered at the two men, “you might have known that if you cared to tune into more than this school’s paltry sports channel. Vocab word of the day: ‘paltry.’ Adjective meaning measly, lackluster, or otherwise disappointing. There. Proof I’ll make you guys look good with my ACT scores. Everybody wins. For once. Can I go to class now?”

Scanning the area, Isobel searched for Reynolds but saw no sign of him anywhere. The propped door leading into the darkened gym, however, told her where he must have gone.

Isobel frowned, wondering how he’d managed to pass through the corridor unnoticed.

His pasty complexion and grim-reaper wardrobe didn’t exactly scream “substitute teacher.”

“That’s enough, Miss Daniels,” she heard Principal Finch say, his words echoed by a scratch of fuzz from his walkie-talkie.

“—not in class,” Isobel heard a woman’s voice utter through static.

More walkie-talkie fuzz. Then Finch’s reply of, “Thank you, Mrs. Tanager.”

Mr. Nott spoke next. “We have two witnesses who say they saw both of you sitting in your car just now. Right outside those doors.” He turned to point, and Isobel ducked low.

“Oh!” Gwen blurted, the exclamation letting Isobel know that Gwen, at least, had seen her. Isobel cringed.

“What?” Mr. Nott asked. “What is it?”

“What do you mean, ‘what is it’?” Gwen snapped, recovering quickly. “You just called the two kids with the rolling papers in their pockets ‘witnesses.’ And if that’s the terminology we’re gonna use, then I think it’s high time I give my legal adviser a ring. Let’s just hope he’s not in the middle of performing a laser procedure. Thank you, speed-dial and—”

“Stop that. Put your phone away—”

“Daddy?” Isobel heard Gwen say. “Yeah, listen, I know you’re probably with a patient right now, but the school Feds wanna talk to you. Do me a favor and tell them who our lawyer is.”

One of the two men growled in frustration. Rising again, Isobel saw Principal Finch snatch Gwen’s glowing cell from her. Pivoting, he pressed the phone to one ear.

“Hello,” he said, while Mr. Nott watched, hands at his hips. “Hello?”

Gwen shot Isobel a pointed glare. Go home, she said, mouthing the words, eyes round, brow furrowed.

Isobel tilted her head, unsure if she had misread the lip-synched message. But when Gwen kicked a foot at her, skirt flaring, Isobel moved.

“There’s no one on the line,” Isobel heard Finch say as she scuttled down the stairs and darted to the gym. Kicking up the metal stopper, she ducked into the darkness, guiding the heavy door behind her until it closed.

Isobel whirled around to scan the wide room.

Shadows blanketed the space, casting the decorations for that night’s Valentine’s dance in tones of gray and black. Opposite Isobel, the red exit sign emitted an eerie glow that mixed with the sunlight peeking through the closed doors.

Against the far wall, beyond the basketball hoop, a balloon arch waited in front of a backdrop set up for photo taking. A disco ball hung motionless from the center of the ceiling. Small cloth-covered tables lined the bases of the bleachers, which had been folded away to turn Isobel’s old cheerleading practice grounds into a dance floor.

Isobel could no longer make out what Gwen or the administrators were saying, though she had no doubt her friend was already en route with them to the main office. With her cell still in the pocket of her coat—which she’d left in Gwen’s car—Isobel suddenly felt very alone.

Noticing tiny piles of ash blotting the floor, she moved forward with careful steps, following the dust to the center of the room, where the trail abruptly ended. Halting atop the emblem of Henry the Hawk’s scowling head, she turned in a slow circle.

“I did not expect to see you in that churchyard.”