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

programming software, on them. “Check the front for the program.”
    Cam scans the front. Mrs. Shareze is very organized with her labels.
    â€œNumber six it is,” he says, flipping the pencil over.
    I hear a squeak at the door. Cam and I both dive low as my heart catapults into my throat. Cam is shielded behind the door of the laptop cart, but he peers around it. I put my finger to my mouth.
    â€œWho is it?” he mouths. I swallow hard. Maybe it’s Mrs. Clementine. Maybe it’s Mrs. Partridge. And if it is, how the heck are we going to explain this?
    I lean down and set the canned air and the laptop gently on the tile. Then ever so quietly, I place my hands next to them and lean over to look under the desk. The door moves the slightest bit on its hinges, but no one is there. No hands, no faces, no feet. Not from where I can see. I sit up and peer over the top of the desk. Nothing.
    â€œAll clear,” I say, grabbing the compressed air again.
    â€œLet’s do this quick,” Cam says, echoing my thought.
    I give the laptop one more spray. Hoping it’s enough. Then I get up out of the thin layer of dust I’ve created. I hand Cam number eight and he hands me number six. I double-check the list on the top of the laptop. It says
Microsoft Office, Reading Buddy Solutions, Bot360.
    â€œMission accomplished, Mighty Hawk,” I say. “Let’s fly home.” Cam locks the laptop case and we drop the key in the top of the desk. I pull the bottom drawer open and place the compressed air gently inside. Then I kick a couple of clumps of dust and grass away from the desk, so it doesn’t look suspicious.
    We head toward the door. As we get there, Cam starts to turn left toward the entrance of the building, but I grab the loop at the top of his pack.
    â€œLet’s go down the back stairs and out across the playground,” I whisper. “Mrs. Ginesh knows we don’t do clubs.”
    We swing right. I’m thinking we’re scot-free as I slam the door to the stairwell open.
    I stop dead in my tracks. Cam careens into me.
    Destin.
    He’s standing in front of us, blocking the stairwell. A smile slips like a snake across his face.
    â€œWhat’s up, trailer trash? You guys get what you were looking for?” He crosses his arms.
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cam says.
    â€œI’m going to go tell Mrs. Partridge all about your little classroom raid and get you expelled from school.”
    â€œNo you’re not,” Cam says, as he comes out around me.
    â€œDon’t bother,” I say, grabbing his arm. Destin lurches forward and hits Cam in the chest and Cam flies back into the wall. I see his face crinkle up and without even thinking, I grab Destin by the collar and push him.
    I don’t think about the stairs. I don’t think about the tumble to the bottom of the concrete. As he flies back, his foot balances for just a moment, and his arms go out. Three flaps. Then he falls, thumps, clumps down, down, down. And lies still.

Eleven
    C AM AND I SIT OUTSIDE P RINCIPAL Partridge’s office and I press my hands underneath my thighs, trying to stop them from shaking, but I’m worried the trembling has transferred over to my arms to spite me.
Please don’t be dead,
I think.
    Mrs. Ginesh looks at me over her glasses like I’m some kind of a crook. It doesn’t matter how many times you try to explain it, when one person is at the bottom of the stairs basically looking dead and another person is sitting just fine at the top of the stairs it seems like there’s only one scenario. And in that scenario, I’m not coming up roses. I hear the siren come and then go. My legs get restless, like they want to carry me out of here. The principal’s office door opens and Mrs. Partridge comes out. I feel my bones getting heavy in my body as she looks at me.
    â€œPlease come and take a seat,