Max hustled down the seven flights of stairs and exited John Jay Hall.

When she reached Amsterdam Avenue and 114th Street, she started heading north at a brisk pace, her radar up. She wasn’t being followed.

At 120th Street, she pulled out her secure phone (another “gift” from Ben) and tapped the speed dial number for Charl and Isabl, the highly skilled tactical team that headed up security for the Change Makers Institute, where Max was considered “The Chosen One.”

That title always made Max roll her eyes.

“The Chosen One.”

It sounded so … so … Harry Potter.

But Ben, the super-rich benefactor, had selected Max to head up his team of elite young geniuses, all of whom were charged with making the world a better place.

Yeah.

Ben was an ambitious young guy with big dreams and an even bigger budget. “We aim to make significant changes to save this planet and the humans who inhabit it,” Max had been told when she visited the CMI headquarters in Jerusalem. And Ben only trusted kids to help him do it.

“Max?” Charl answered. He had an interesting accent that Max still couldn’t quite place. Israeli? Eastern European? Basically, it was mysterious and foreign. “Where are you?”

“Out.”

“What? Are Jamal and Danny with you?”

“No. But it’s not their fault. They think I’m in the shower.”

Charl sighed. “Max, we talked about this. You need security. The Corp has spies everywhere….”

The Corp. The evil empire out to stop the CMI. Where Ben and the CMI wanted to make changes and improve the human condition, the Corp wanted to make money and improve the bottom line in its bank accounts. One member, Dr. Zacchaeus Zimm, also wanted to lure Max away. He was like the Corp’s Darth Vader, always trying to tempt Max to join the dark side of the Force.

So far, it wasn’t working.

So far.

But Dr. Zimm had hinted that he knew something about Max’s past. He might even know who her parents were and why she was named “Max Einstein.” Max couldn’t remember her parents. She’d lived in orphanages, foster care facilities, and with other homeless people her whole life. Until, of course, the CMI came along and flew her off to Jerusalem.

“Max?” Charl’s voice was strong and firm over the phone. “Your job, right now, is to stay safe. Dr. Zimm and the Corp are still after you. Please return to your dormitory. Immediately.”

“When’s our next mission?” asked Max, basically ignoring Charl. She was a lot like her idol, Dr. Einstein. She didn’t do well with authority or direct orders.

“There will be no ‘next mission’ for the CMI if Dr. Zimm grabs you, Max.”

“Fine,” she said. “Then I’ll have to find my own.”

“Max?”

“Just obeying Sir Newton’s first law, Charl. I’m a body in motion. I need to keep moving.”

She disconnected the call and powered down her phone so Charl couldn’t call back.

When she reached Martin Luther King Boulevard, she turned right and headed into Harlem.

As the boulevard angled into West 125th Street, Max saw a group of happy kids outside a bodega. They were jumping through the sideways stream of water gushing out of an open fire hydrant, trying to cool down.

“Hey, you kids!” shouted an angry old man on a stoop. He had a towel wrapped around his waist. “I’m trying to take a shower upstairs! You’re making the water pressure drop!”

The kids just laughed and splashed some more.

“That does it! I’m calling the cops.”

The old man shook his fist and headed inside, no doubt to pick up a phone and punch in 911.

Max sprang into action. She had to. She couldn’t lie low or play it safe. Not when a bunch of kids were about to get into trouble for just being kids.