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better off dead anyway. She'd have hated being stuck in a bed in some nursing home being fed by tubes and not knowing whether it was Monday or Friday. Not even knowing what a Monday or a Friday was. She would have especially
    hated never being able to dance again. That girl did love to dance.
    She should have stuck to only one partner.
    The thing is, I didn't mind so much that they had shut me out. I had other friends. What I really hated was what she was doing to Dante. She was totally ruining his life, and his family's life. It wasn't right. It just wasn't right.
    Someone had to stop her.
    So I did.
    But now, Dante was being blamed for her mur* der.
    I didn't know what to do about that.
    and the scurrying sounds in the walls got to her then. Her pounding became more frantic, her shouting more panicky, and she began kicking at the door, hoping its age would help her break it down.
    Her hands were already sore and raw when she heard, over her own voice, Alex calling her name. She stopped pounding, shouting, and kicking, to listen.
    "Maggie? Maggie, you in there?"
    "Get me out of here! Hurry up, Alex!"
    The door opened and Maggie stumbled out into Alex's arms. A moment later, Whit, Helen, Lane, and Scout came around a corner and joined them, all asking questions at the same time.
    "What were you doing in there?" Alex asked when Maggie had calmed down. Her trembling had subsided, and, embarrassed now, she stepped away from him, careful to avoid the door to the coal bin.
    "Trying on shoes," she answered caustically. Then, because it wasn't his fault, she added soberly, "I went in there to check it out and someone thought it would be funny to lock me in." She couldn't see anyone's face clearly, but she knew by their questions that they were all there. "Which one of you is the guilty party?" She managed a shaky laugh. "I think I'll just have to jail you in one of the cells for a while, show you how it feels."
    One at a time, they all denied having any part in her confinement. And Scout, especially, didn't like being accused. "Like I would ever do that to you!" he said indignantly.
    Maggie didn't know what to think. Someone had locked that door behind her. If it wasn't any of her Mends, then who?
    "I'm out of here," she said firmly. "I've seen more than enough. I need fresh air and sunshine. You guys coming? And can we please stay together this time?" she asked as they began walking.
    They promised, but it was impossible to see them in the dark. All she could do was assume they were still with her.
    They hadn't gone far when a veil of soot descended upon their heads and shoulders. Unable to see anything, Maggie stopped walking, clapping her hands protectively over her nose and mouth. She realized that everyone else must have stopped, too, because in place of footsteps padding along the passageway, all she heard was more coughing and sneezing.
    They were so lost in the discomfort of the coughing fits, they didn't hear the faint groaning sound near them. They didn't notice as the groan gained strength, growing louder until it had become a full-fledged tearing, ripping sound.
    By the time they did hear it, it was too late. The ground beneath their feet shook and shuddered as the upright, wooden beam stretching from the ground to the ceiling gave way, toppling to one side in a shower of wood chips and chunks, dirt, bugs, and dust.
    Maggie was the first to realize what was happening. She screamed a warning, but her throat was so
    fu.ll of dust, the sound that came out was little more than a hoarse cry.
    Still, the others heard her, and realized that something bad was taking place. Instinctively, they jumped backward.
    Just in time.
    There was a second, mightier shudder when the beam slammed into the ground. A thick spray of brown, musty-smelling dirt flew upward upon impact, spraying all of them as they stood frozen, mouths open, watching disaster strike. The floor above had no choice. It had to follow. It sank downward slowly in a thick