My heart hammered against my ribs, my stomach twisting, and I felt legitimate panic surge through me, even underneath all my “David’s in danger” feelings. The classrooms—

Were empty, I remembered with a wave of relief. The assembly had seen to that. But as I made my way farther down the hall, I couldn’t help but think that if they hadn’t been, if there had been students trapped in there, I wouldn’t have been able to save them. Not until I knew David was safe.

It was a disturbing thought, and I made myself shove it away, trying to focus on what was happening.

There was another smell mixed in with the smoke, a heavy, chemical odor, and I wondered if some of the cleaning products had exploded or something. And then I looked again at that spreading pool of flame, and with a sudden jolt, I realized that it wasn’t spilled bleach or ammonia. It was gasoline.

Someone had set that fire on purpose, and I thought I had a pretty good idea of who.

Of course, none of that mattered right now. Right now, the main thing was getting to David. Throwing an arm over my face, I ran to the journalism lab. The fire was only a few yards or so away, and the doorknob was already warm to the touch as I twisted it.

My eyes watered as I scanned the room, but there was no sign of David.

Still, he had to be here. I felt it. “David!” I called, rushing in and bumping into a desk. It screeched across the linoleum, and I called again. “David!”

And then I saw his messenger bag propped against the door of the darkroom.

Several years ago, some parents whose kids had been super into photography had donated the funds to have the darkroom installed in the newspaper lab, but hardly anyone used it anymore.

Except David.

The little light over the door was on, showing that it was in use, but I ignored that, flinging open the door to stare at David, who whirled around to glare over the top of his glasses.

When he saw it was me, the glare lessened a bit, but he still didn’t seem thrilled. “Pres, you know you can’t open—”

Then he stopped, lifting his nose. “Wait, are the alarms going off? Is that smoke?”

Without answering, I reached in, grabbed him by the sleeve of his ratty sweater, and tugged him out of the darkroom.