Free Academy 7 by Anne Osterlund

tilt of his neck; the empty, frozen gaze in his eyes. She crouched there for an eternity, fighting her demons and not crying. She had not cried in the six years since his death and did not remember how, but she remembered enough to keep her there, her body shaking and shivering, by turns, until a soft glow lit the sky and she could once again bury the memory.
    Her sleeve had dried on her skin, and her eyelids weighed down. Aerin tried to get up. Her legs cramped, not wanting to unfold. She leaned back and stretched each limb, one at a time, then finally stood.
    Careful to avoid sharp stones and brambles, she picked her way through the garden and back to the ancient maple. Towering above her, it lacked some of its allure. Working her fingers to make certain they could clench a fist, she began to ascend.
    The climb took three times longer than the descent. Every twig seemed to catch her hair. Her footing slipped twice, and she knew her body was responding to the night’s trauma. How dare her feet betray her!
    With a final effort, she swung through the open window and landed in a crouch on the bedroom floor. At last.
    Relief was short-lived.
    “Ahem.” A low sound yanked her upright.
    The door was wide open. And in the gap stood Mr. Xioxang, a deep frown etching his thin face. For seconds he remained still, perhaps as stunned as she was. Then the frown cracked, and a harsh order whipped forth. “You will come with me to the Great Hall, Miss Renning. Immediately.”
     
    Briiing! The harsh sound shrieked in Dane’s brain. Not his alarm clock; he had not set it.
    Dane rolled over, burying his head under the pillow.
    The shrieking did not subside. Not a clock at all. A dorm fire drill? He considered lying there until the drill was over, but then memories from his recent nightmares came back—smoke clogging his lungs.
    He rolled out of bed, the floor clobbering his knees. More bruises to go with the ones he already had. He reached up for the light, but the bulb would not turn on. Fighting the urge not to slump back to bed, he staggered to his feet. Then shouts in the hallway drew his attention.
    “Lockdown!”
    “You can’t be serious!”
    “They can’t!”
    “They can and they—”
    Sheer force of will brought Dane hobbling to the Exit button. It failed to work. Overpowering the controls, he thrust open the door and stared out.
    At a strangely still crowd. Other male students crammed this end of the hall. They had moved toward the stairwell, leaving behind a row of open doors, yet the exodus had ceased to flow. Bodies slumped against the walls, some of them dressed in uniform but most, like Dane’s, in a haphazard mix of sleepwear and bare skin.
    “What,” he groaned, “is going on?”
    “We’re in lockdown,” came an answer in a female voice.
    Dane’s head snapped in the voice’s direction. At the entrance to the stairway, her slender body draped across the exit, was Yvonne Entera. What was she doing in this wing?
    “Lockdown from what?” Thoughts flashed through Dane’s mind, all drilled into him from a lifetime on a military base. Attack? Invasion?
    But the girl flipped her hair over her shoulder. “It’s for the Council’s protection,” she said, “not ours. Someone broke into the tech lab last night.”
    Of course.
    “We’re all trapped in here,” she said, “together, until Zaniels secures the files.” She pushed away from the door and took a step in Dane’s direction, but her path was blocked by a towheaded boy wrapped in a blanket.
    “Why would the Council care about a bunch of school files?” asked the boy, showing no inclination to move.
    Yvonne gave him a dirty look. “We all know there are more than school files at Academy 7. What do you think is the purpose of the Spindle?” She referred to the black rotating tower. “You don’t really believe it’s solely for decoration. What better place would the Council have for storing classified information?”
    Rumors. Dane schooled his