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I cast a look left. A janitor must be in there. I’m not sure how many there are, but there has to be more than one with a school this size.
My school, Thunder Bay Prep, is a bit smaller but, in many ways, a lot nicer. Falcon’s Well has almost no security—I glance up at the cameras that are being installed but are not yet active—and the Athletics here suck.
The hallways are dark, classroom doors are closed, and since we noticed the parking lot was nearly empty on the way in, that means the lacrosse, cheer, and track practices must be done for the night.
Maybe a few teachers are lurking on the second and third levels, but other than the janitors, only Ryen is left, teaching down in the pool.
I walk up to the front office doors, glancing around me to make sure we’re alone, and hand the notebook to Dane. “Hold this.”
“What are we doing?” He pulls up the hood on his black sweatshirt, nervously looking up at one of the dead cameras.
I slip out a tension wrench from my jeans pocket and immediately dig back in, feeling for the paperclip I swiped off a page in Ryen’s notebook. I unwind the clip and straighten it, bending the end just slightly.
Dane watches as I insert the wrench, applying pressure and feeling which way has more give, before sticking the paper clip into the lock and working the pins, pressing all five of them up until they click. I add pressure to the wrench and then…
Click.
The lock turns, and the door opens.
“Where’d you learn that?” he whispers, sounding surprised.
“YouTube. Stop talking.”
We both dive into the dark office, quickly scanning the area to make sure it’s empty. The desks behind the counter sit vacant, and I shoot my eyes left, seeing Mrs. Burrowes written on a door. I walk over and jiggle the handle, finding it locked as well. Inser
ting the wrench, I work quickly and feel relief when the handle finally gives way, the door opening wide.
I stare into the office, amazed that this actually worked. I’ve never picked a lock before, until I Googled how this afternoon and practiced on some rusty old doors at the Cove.
“The Principal’s Office.” Dane inches in, filling the doorway with me. “I spent a lot of time in one of these. I think they gave me my diploma just to get rid of me.”
His voice is thick with humor, and I stuff the tools back in my pocket. “Shhh.”
Stepping inside, I immediately go for the cabinets and begin opening drawers, looking for anything even close to resembling what I’m searching for.
I sift through student files, budgets, receipts, teacher records, disciplinary records…
“What are you looking for?”
I open drawer after drawer, dragging my fingers over the files as I quickly scan. It has to be here. Annie told me once she mailed the stuff here.
“Dude, we should get out of here,” Dane urges, sounding nervous.
And then I see it. A thick, brown pocket folder labeled Private with a rubber band wrapped around it.
I grab it, quickly opening it and peeking inside. It’s filled with pink envelopes and a small photo album, and an ache shudders through my chest as I force down the lump in my throat.
Annie.
I close the folder and wrap the rubber band around it again, shutting the drawers and walking out of the office. There are people still in the building, and I don’t want to get caught.
Dane following in my wake as I turn around and push the button, locking and closing the door behind us.
Unfortunately, the double doors in front are locked with keys, so I can’t cover my tracks on those. Hopefully the office staff will just think they forgot to lock them on their way out this afternoon.
Dane looks down at the folder in my hand. “What does this have to do with the notebook?” He holds up Ryen’s diary.
“Nothing.” I walk down the hallway toward the locker rooms at the back of the school, taking the book out of his hand. “Not a damn thing.”
