CHAPTER 100

PANCAKE TRIED TO FOCUS ON WHAT Principal Jackson was saying to Mann and Cutter. She looked worried, which wasn’t helping a bit. “You’re sure Hudson and Maggie were inside?”

She said were. Like they were already gone. He felt weak. So incredibly weak. He held up his phone. “Hudson texted.”

Mrs. Jackson scanned the texts and signaled to the police sergeant. She started talking while he was still ten feet away. “I’ve got two innocent kids in there —actually three. We just got a text. They think Giovanna is suicidal and never meant to shoot anyone but herself.”

But there’d been three gunshots since he’d gotten that text.

The cop nodded, but didn’t say a word.

“Two kids, a boy and a girl, are unarmed and in the school right now, trying to help. Your team needs to know that.”

He held up one finger and swung a walkie-talkie to his cheek. “We’ve still got two students inside —besides the shooter. Do not use lethal force unless fired upon. Understood?”

Lethal force. A term Pancake wouldn’t have thought twice about while playing an online game or watching a movie. But this was real. Actually . . . unreal.

“They may be headed to the art room,” Mrs. Jackson said.

“And where would that be?”

“It’s tricky to find. I’ll take you there.”

The sergeant shook his head. “We’ve been over this.”

“My school,” Mrs. Jackson said. “My students. Please.”

“No can do. Absolutely not.”

A garbled message came over the walkie-talkie.

“Say again.” He ran toward the cops at the front doors. Apparently the conversation with Mrs. Jackson was over.

“We’ve got to do something,” Pancake said.

Mrs. Jackson put her hands on her hips. “I agree. But there is no way they’re going to let me through that front door.”

“I can get you directly into the art room.” Mr. Mann held up a ring of keys. “The emergency exit.”

She looked back at the front entrance, crawling with cops, and gave Mr. Mann a single nod. “Perfect.”

Mrs. Jackson put a hand on Pancake’s arm. “Stay with Mr. Cutter and Mr. Mann. Don’t even think of following.”

Pancake crossed his heart. “I promise. Just find them. Alive.”

Principal Jackson reached for the keys, but Mr. Mann pulled them back.

“My school,” she said.

“And my art room,” Mann said. “I’ll get you in, but we go together.”

She nodded.

“Okay,” Mr. Mann said. “Nice and easy, let’s slip around the south side of the building. We don’t want to attract any attention.”

The principal put a hand on Mr. Mann’s shoulder like she was in deep conversation with him. They worked their way to the edge of the crowd and then toward the far end of the building.

A car roared down Martin Lane and screeched to a halt halfway into the parking lot. The passenger door flew open, and a man hit the ground running. Even from this distance, Pancake recognized the mayor.

The mayor skirted the mass of students and jogged for the cluster of cops at the front door. Police came to meet him —or block him from getting any closer.

The whole thing lasted maybe thirty seconds —but it proved to be the perfect diversion. When Pancake turned toward the far end of the school, Mr. Mann and the principal were gone.

“The mayor timed that little entrance perfectly,” Cutter said.

Pancake’s mind reeled back to the series of three gunshots. The mayor’s timing was definitely off. He was about five minutes too late.