“Mr. Wood!” I cry out in alarm. “I have to go back in the auditorium! My Sassy Sack is in there!”

“Your what?”

“My Sassy Sack. My purse. My bag.” My stomach feels gurgly. “I have to get it out of the auditorium. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Sassy, but you’re not going to be able to get back in there this afternoon. It will be fine, and you can get it first thing in the morning.”

“But I never go anywhere without it!” I wail.

“It’s just a purse.”

“No, it’s not! It’s part of me. It’s got all my important stuff in there!”

“I’m sure whatever is in there will be just fine until tomorrow.”

“Please!” I beg.

“I can’t, Sassy. The fire department has blocked all the doors. Nobody can get back in there. Not you. Not me.”

I sit down on the grass and hold my head my hands. I gulp loudly. I’m trying not to cry.

Jasmine sits down next to me and puts her arm around my shoulders. “It will be okay, Sassy. Your sack will be waiting for you in the morning.”

“But it’s never been away from me — not since I got it when I was seven years old. Never.” I feel cold and I shiver.

“I know,” she says, giving me a big hug. “This is just plain terrible!”

I try once more to convince Mr. Wood. “If I don’t come home with that bag, I’ll be in big trouble with my mom.”

“I’m sure she’ll understand that it was an emergency situation,” Mr. Wood says in that voice that grown-ups use to quiet kids who are upset.

I’m feeling desperate. “But I have something really special in there,” I tell him. “It’s kind of expensive. My mother will not be happy if I don’t come home with it.”

“You know you’re not supposed to bring expensive items to school, Sassy,” Mr. Wood says in a warning voice. “Is it a video game player?”

“No,” I say quietly.

“A cell phone?”

“My mother won’t let me have one,” I tell him.

“Then what is it?” he asks gently. He sounds like he really does feel sorry for me.

I take a deep breath. “It’s my instrument — my piccolo.”

“You play the piccolo?”

“Yes. For the past year or so.”

“And she’s really good at it,” Jasmine adds. “She plays way better than she sings!”

I smile a tiny little smile.

Mr. Wood grins. “Well, that’s wonderful news, Sassy! I can’t wait until the construction is completed and we have our new orchestra room. I’d love to hear you play.”

“I can’t play it if it’s missing,” I tell him quietly.

“It’s not missing. It’s in your bag, which is in the auditorium, which is locked down until morning.”

“I just gotta have that bag!” I say helplessly. “It’s like my third hand.”

“Yeah, the hand with all the rings and ribbons and ruffles,” Holly says, joining us. “Sassy really does need that bag, Mr. Wood. She’s just not Sassy without it.”

Mr. Wood looks like he almost understands how bad I feel. Almost. “I wish I could do something, but I can’t,” he tells me.

“Bike, can you help me?” I turn to him, pleading.

“Sorry, kid,” Bike says, shaking his head. “Fire marshal says nobody gets in there. Nobody. I’m really sorry.”

Mr. Wood reaches out a hand to help me stand up. I rise slowly. “What am I going to do?” I ask Jasmine. I feel so empty and lost without my Sassy Sack.

“Let’s go call your mom, explain to her what happened, and then we can all go out for pizza to help make you feel better.”

“I don’t think I can eat,” I whisper. “I just want to go home and pray for it to be morning.”

She squeezes my hand. I’m glad she’s my friend. She understands how bad I feel.

Mr. Wood gathers up the vests and props that kids have left on the grass next to me. I glance back at the firemen swarming all over. Then we all walk slowly to the school office.

I wait in line with the other kids who don’t have cell phones and I call Mom. “Can you pick me up early?” I ask.

“Sure, Sassy. Rehearsal is over already?”

“There was a fire at school.”

“Fire? Oh, my goodness!”

“It was just a little trash fire in the lobby of the auditorium. It was no big deal.”

“A fire at school is always a big deal! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom. There was just a little smoke by the time the firefighters got here.”

“Firefighters? I’m rushing right over there!”

“Mom, listen. I’m fine. The fire was tiny, but because it was caused by the workers who are doing the school construction, they have to file safety reports and stuff. So they locked down the auditorium.”

“Well, that’s a good thing. I’m glad they are worrying about safety.”

“No, Mom, that’s not a good thing. They locked my Sassy Sack in the auditorium and they won’t let me go back in there! Mom, what am I gonna do?”

“I’ll be right over, Sassy. We’ll figure something out.”

I hang up the phone and let the next kid call home.

I tell Jasmine, “My mom is on her way. You want a ride home?”

“Thanks, but my mother will be here in a minute. She heard about the fire on the news and she jumped in her car to come and get me. She said the report made it seem like it was a huge, flaming firestorm.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t,” I tell her. “But I wish they’d let me get my bag.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jasmine touches me on the arm.

When Mom arrives, she hugs me, then says, “Are you all right, Sassy?” She looks concerned — I guess because of all the fire equipment still sitting in front of the school.

“I’m fine, Mom. The school is fine. It was just a small fire. But my Sassy Sack is …” I can’t even finish the sentence.

Mom gives me a bear hug this time. “It will be morning before you know it,” she says. “Let’s go home and get some dinner, okay?”

“But my piccolo is in my sack, Mom. What about my lesson?” In all the time I’ve been taking lessons, I’ve only missed one, and that was because Mrs. Rossini was sick.

“We’ll call Mrs. Rossini, explain to her what happened, and I’m sure we can reschedule your lesson.”

“Mom, can’t you make them open the auditorium so I can get my sack?”

She kneels down in front of me so she can look me in the eye. “No, Sassy, I can’t. But I’ll come with you in the morning to make sure we get in there first thing, okay?”

I nod, but nothing is really okay.

Jasmine’s mom rushes in with lots of other scared parents. Mr. Wood explains to everyone what happened, and that there is nothing to worry about.

But I’ve got big worries.

Jasmine and I wave good-bye, and we both get in our cars so our moms can drive us home.

When we get to our house I ask Mom, “Can I call Grammy?”

“I think that’s a great idea, Sassy.” She hands me the phone, and I punch in the numbers.

Grammy’s voice always makes me feel better. “Hi, Sassy,” she says cheerfully. “I’m so glad you called! How was your day?”

“Not good, Grammy.”

Instantly, her voice sounds soothing, like a hug. “What’s wrong?”

“My Sassy Sack is missing!” I whisper into the phone.

“Oh, Sassy! I know you must be hurting. What happened?”

I tell her about the workers and the fire and the locked auditorium. “I’ve never been without it, Grammy. Not since you gave it to me.”

“I’m sure it will be waiting for you in the morning. It’s probably missing you, too.”

She makes me giggle a little.

“How are rehearsals going for the show?” Grammy asks. I think she’s trying to change the subject.

“Pretty good,” I tell her.

“Poppy and I are going to come and see it, you know.”

“But I’m not in it!” I remind her.

“You’re the stage manager, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but I have to be backstage the whole time.”

“Would the show be successful without you?”

“I don’t know. I guess not. I like being in charge.”

“I know you do. You’re a natural leader, Miss Sassy!”

She makes me feel proud.

“But you don’t have to come all the way from Florida just to see a show where I’ll be behind the curtain the whole time.”

I tell her this, but I hope she comes anyway. I love being with Grammy.

“Didn’t I come when Sadora had one line in her school play?”

“Yep. All she had to do was announce, ‘Welcome to the Alcazar!’ to the actors onstage.”

“And didn’t I come when Sabin’s picture was chosen for the art show?”

“Of course he painted a plate of food!” I say with a laugh.

“So you know I’ll be there to see the show that you’re stage managing.”

“Thanks, Grammy,” I tell her. “I can’t wait to see you.”

“I’ll see you soon, Sassy. I know you’ll find your sack tomorrow.”

I feel better when I hang up. But I still worry about my Sassy Sack. It’s all alone in that big old auditorium. Without me.

So is my piccolo.