Lock-In (Night Fall ™) by Jonathan Mary-Todd

Author:Jonathan Mary-Todd [Mary-Todd, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Lerner Books
Published: 2011-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

I followed the sound a few doors down the hallway. Pete followed behind me, watching both our backs. We stopped outside the art room.

“It’s coming from here,” I said.

I slid the door open a crack and peered inside. I have no idea how long I looked for. But afterward, I gently closed the door and frowned.

“Well, what?” Pete asked. “What did you see?”

“I hate this night. Just when I thought it couldn’t get weirder.”

Inside the art room, kids were playing music from the speakers of a laptop. A couple pounded on the lids of sealed paint cans. Others danced on top of tables. Mira Patel, one of the few I recognized, held a large flashlight. She kept flicking it on and off like it was a strobe. During the bursts of light, I could see that paint had been splashed throughout the room. Maybe by the canful. A few kids had smeared it over their clothes and faces.

“Jackie, what is going on in there?”

“I’m not sure. I think it might be art.”

Pete nudged me away from the door and took a look. The kids either continued not to notice us or they didn’t care.

“I have no idea what I’m looking at,” he said.

I shrugged.

Pete pointed to Mira. “You know her, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Mira Patel. You want me to talk to her?”

“I . . . think so? I guess they’re not fighting each other. It looks roomier than the broom closet.”

I approached Mira at the center of the room, weaving through dancing kids. Pete stayed as close to the door as possible.

“Mira!”

She looked at me blankly.

“We were just passing through, and we wondered if maybe—”

She motioned for me to stop talking.

“I’ll ask,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Mira walked over to two kids who were at the laptop, probably working on the playlist. I couldn’t hear what they were saying over the music, and I could barely make out their gestures as long as Mira pointed her flashlight at the ground.

Mira moved back toward me and held the flashlight up to her face. She wore a look of disappointment. Or pity.

“Jackie. I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“You have to go.”

“Excuse me?”

“You can’t stay here, Jackie. I did what I could. You’re—,” she took a deep breath. “You’re just not cool enough.”

I wasn’t sure how to reply. Mira pointed the flashlight toward me, holding it out.

“Here,” she said. “Take this.”

“Um, thanks?”

I trotted over to Pete, flashlight in hand. We headed out into the hall, back toward our broom closet.

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