"Don't bother taking aseat," Mr. Solomon said as Anna started toward a desk in the back of theroom. "Your classmates were just leaving."
We all looked at our recentlysynchronized watches, which showed the exact same thing—we had forty-five minutes of class time left.Forty-five valuable and never-wasted minutes. After what seemed like forever,Liz's hand shot into the air.
"Yes?" Joe Solomonsounded like someone with far better things to do.
"Is there anyhomework?" she asked, and the class turned instantly from shocked toirritated. (Never ask that question in a room full of girls who are allblack belts in karate.)
"Yes," Solomon said,holding the door in the universal signal for get out. "Noticethings."
As I headed down the slickwhite hallway to the elevator that had brought me there, I heard my classmateswalking in the opposite direction, toward the elevator closest to our rooms.After what had just happened, I was glad to hear their footsteps going theother way. I wasn't surprised when Bex came to stand beside me.
"You okay?" sheasked, because that's a best friend's job.
"Yes," I lied,because that's what spies do.
We rode the elevator to thenarrow first-floor hallway, and as the doors slid open, I was seriouslyconsidering going to see my mother (and not just for the M&M's), when Istepped into the dim corridor and heard a voice cry, "CameronMorgan!"
Professor Buckingham wasrushing down the hall, and I couldn't imagine what would make the genteelBritish lady speak in such a way, when, above us, a red light began to whirl, and ascreaming buzzer pierced our ears so that we could barely hear the cries of theelectronic voice that pulsed with the light, "CODE RED. CODE RED. CODERED."