Free Chasing the Milky Way by Erin E. Moulton Page A

corner and come to room 221. Principal Partridge comes out the door and we nod and hold out our notes so she knows there’s no funny business. She just hurries past us. We hang up our bags and take our seats.
    â€œHello, class, I’m Mrs. Clementine, your teacher for today,” she says as she spells out her name on the board. As she makes a final flourish at the end of her name, I can’t help but feel a little bit of gratitude. Even the sky out the classroom window has a little ray of light splitting through a cloud.

Ten
    T HE BELL RINGS. W E LINE UP with the rest of the herd and head out toward the front doors. My hands seem to be jumping around on their own. Snapping and tapping my legs and acting all suspicious. I jam them in my pockets to keep them still. As we pass the water fountain I stop.
    â€œHang here,” I say. Cam slips out of line, too. He leans over and starts sucking down water while I stand against the wall. Once he’s had his fill, I get some. Then we take time staring at the cheery mural and let the halls empty out a little bit. Just as most of the kids are leaving, just as I’m about to give up hope all together, Mrs. Clementine walks out of 221 and heads toward the office.
    â€œNow, Cap’n?” Cam whispers.
    â€œLet me go first,” I say, “then you follow in two minutes.”
    I grip the strap of my pack and head back to the classroom. I look both ways before I slide the door open again and step in. Mrs. Shareze isn’t going to like this when she gets in tomorrow morning. What a mess. I pick up a crumpled piece of paper and chuck it in the garbage as I head for her desk. I step around it and look at the tables and chairs. The whole room is different from this angle. It’s kind of like a captain’s control station. I scan the top of the desk for some compressed air. A notepad with some random scribbles sits to one side. Her computer is off, and there’s a calendar resting right below her keyboard. She has multicolored Post-it notes everywhere. Worksheets we did today sit next to a letter from the sub.
    The door opens and I dive down.
    â€œIt’s just me,” Cam hisses, stepping in and sliding the door closed behind him.
    I jump back up as he heads around the side of the desk.
    â€œI can’t find the compressed air,” I say. “It’s usually up here next to her keyboard, isn’t it?”
    Cam pulls the top drawer open.
    â€œWell, we’ll need this,” Cam picks up a little key that says
laptop lab
on it. It’s the key for the cart. I’ve seen her use it a thousand times.
    â€œI don’t know how I feel about going through all her stuff . . . ,” I say, looking at the picture of her and her daughter sitting next to a jar of pens and pencils. They both stare at me.
    â€œDisregard that,” Cam says, placing the picture facedown.
    I pick it up and put it right back. This is all sorts of badness. But then I remember this is for PingPing. This is for BotBlock. This is for Cam and Izzy and Mama and our futures. And for my promise to Gram.
    â€œAll right,” I say as Cam goes over to the rolling cart in the corner. I open the next drawer. Nothing but a bunch of extra pencils, pens, paper clips, a few push pins. I close that one and go to the other side. One of the drawers is locked. There’s probably no reason to lock up compressed air, so I drop to the next one and try the handle. Bingo. There, sitting among bouncey balls, stickers, cool pens, and erasers, is the can of air. A straw sticking out of the nozzle. Thank god.
    I grab it quick, take the laptop from my backpack, open it, and start spraying the keyboard. Dirt flies everywhere. I pinch my mouth closed so it doesn’t get on my lips and tongue.
    â€œWhich number do you want?” Cam hisses from behind me. I turn real quick and see he is holding the clipboard.
    I think numbers six through ten have Bot360, the robot