“Excuse me!”

I jump at the sharp voice and whirl around. Mrs. Haberman, the head Technology and Research Center specialist, has her arms crossed over her wide chest and gives a fierce frown. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I was looking for Rose Webster,” I lie. “I said I’d meet her here.”

“Well, you’ll have to meet her somewhere else,” Mrs. Haberman snaps. “The Technology and Research Center is closed.”

I step back and she pushes the door open. Just before it latches closed I hear Mrs. Haberman say, “Well?” and Principal Velshi reply, “Someone did a search on that computer seconds before the alarm went off. We need to report this problem and find whoever is behind it.”

I stumble back from the door. Principal Velshi is a nice man. When my mother died, he wasn’t one of the ones who told me that he was “always here” if I needed to talk and then never mentioned it again. Like it was a box to check—act sympathetic and then move on. He dropped by my lunch table or found me in the hallways every couple of weeks just to chat. If it had just been him in the Technology Center, I might have opened the door and told him about my search for VERIFY. I could have showed him the water-stained paper and asked what he thought it was.

But he isn’t alone and I just want to get out of here.

Two officers pass me as I walk to my locker with my head down. It takes only minutes to punch in the combination and empty out my space. I snag a school hoodie from a hook, shove my extra pair of sneakers into my bag, and fish out a sequined hat my father gave me for my birthday (and I pretended to have lost). I slam the locker shut and head for the closest exit, all too aware of the tattered paper in my bag. I’d love to throw it into the trash, but I’m scared someone will notice me doing it and realize I am the one who tripped the alarm.

Despite the warm sunshine, I am shivering when I step outside. The buses have already left. Two police cars with their lights flashing are parked in the rounded school driveway in their place.

“There you are!”

I spin and spot Rose strolling down the sidewalk in my direction.

“I thought you’d blown me off.” I must look confused because she says, “I sent a message to your phone and your tablet—asking you to meet me. You didn’t get it?”

I shake my head as several police officers come out of the main doors. One is on his phone. Another is squinting into the sunshine as if she is looking for someone.

Rose follows my gaze and frowns. “I wonder what the police are doing here.”

“I think it’s . . . because of me,” I whisper.

Rose snaps her head back toward me. “What are you talking about?”