Dr. Chatterjee often stayed late to grade papers. Rather than make his way through the school’s warren of corridors and doors to the front exit, he sometimes left out a back door so he could circle easily to the parking lot. Because of his weakened grip, he couldn’t use a key, so he tended to leave the door unlocked behind him. It was worth a shot.

JoJo’s tiny hand rose, pointing. “Look,” she said.

A few Piggly Wiggly stockers had appeared along with Eddie Lu at the edge of the baseball field. It was only a matter of time before one of them noticed us standing here in the open and breached the fence.

I rushed along the building, put my hand on the doorknob, and took a deep breath. The others crowded at my shoulders. I clenched and turned.

The door creaked open.

We piled in and closed the door. Alex reached over and locked it behind us. We slipped through the open hallway, ducking into Chatterjee’s room to take cover. The familiar scent of formaldehyde washed over us. Never before had I been so relieved to be in a classroom.

Patrick clicked the light switch quickly to check the electricity, but nothing happened. He shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

Cassius stuck his head in the trash can and came up with an apple core. No matter what else is going on, dogs will be dogs.

“Drop it,” I said.

He opened his jaw and let the core drop back into the trash with a thunk. From the look in his brown eyes, you’d have thought I’d kicked him in the ribs.

Patrick peeked around the jamb into the hall for a while, then signaled us to come. We moved out into the dark corridor, the swinging door blowing a Ziploc bag across the floor, chased by a trampled brown paper lunch sack. The rows of battered lockers, that dirty-sneaker smell, the dented recycle bins. Flyers curling from bulletin boards announced various events in bubble letters: Blood Drive Week! Buy Your Tickets for the Harvest Dance! Auditions for Sartre’s No Exit! A varsity jacket was stuffed above the lockers where someone had forgotten it. For some reason the sight of that stupid jacket without its owner tore open something inside me, and I had to fight to keep my composure. How many kids were missing? How many adults were missing as well, even inside their own bodies? It felt too huge to contemplate. Here in the safety of the school where I’d spent so much of my life, it all seemed unreal and impossibly close at the same time.

Patrick’s voice cut in on my thoughts. “Let’s make sure all the other doors and windows are locked,” he said. “Secure the school as a base.”