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ran his fingers through his hair until it returned to its normal, artfully-messed style and then used a clean part of his shirt sleeve, one that would be hidden under his coat, to clean up the rest of his blood. I found a mirror, blotted away the blood on my lip and smoothed down my wind-tossed hair. We deemed ourselves presentable and turned back toward the stairs only to find two rather large men blocking our path.
    “Is everything okay up here?” One of the big men asked. They both wore serious expressions and dark suits. If I had to guess, I would say they were security. They studied Brent and me and looked around the silent hallway. “We thought we heard something.”
    “Oh, that was the air-conditioning vent. It made a horrible sound,” Brent said.
    The two men exchanged an unreadable look before one of them turned back toward us. “Students are not supposed to be up here.”
    “Sorry.” I grabbed Brent’s arm, slipped past the two beefy men and led him down the stairs. When we reached the first floor I said, “Let’s find Steve and Cherie and get out of here.”
    Brent nodded and we went into the backyard to look for them. A tapping on the microphone had us all looking toward the platform at the far end of the event tent as Headmaster Farnsworth took the stage. Like cattle being corralled into a pen, the crowd pressed forward. Brent and I had no choice but to go with the flow or be trampled in the process. My adrenaline had worn off and my body began to shake. Brent noticed. He grabbed two glasses of sparkling cider and pushed one of them into my hands.
    Our headmaster smiled out at the audience, and began a long-winded speech about the importance of the internship program, thanking all of the people who had planned the event. I didn’t care what he had to say. All that mattered to me was leaving the house before Sophia came back.
    The headmaster’s voice droned on in the background, “I’m pleased to turn the stage over to Bryan Pendrell, our Board President and CEO, and the sole living descendant of our school’s founder.”
    That got my attention. I’d never seen Bryan Pendrell except for his picture on the school website. Everyone clapped while Mr. Pendrell stepped up to the microphone. He appeared to be in his mid thirties with wavy, dark brown hair, a smile far too white to be natural and dark eyes. He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief and then clutched the sides of the podium.
    “Um, thank you ah, for coming tonight. We’re glad we uh, had such a great turn out.” He cleared his throat again as he leaned closer to the mike and I cringed at the static feedback.
    “Wow, he never would have passed Mr. Cooper’s public speaking class,” Brent commented. “This is painful to listen to. He even makes your public speaking skills look good.”
    I almost choked on my apple cider. Brent laughed as he took my glass from my hand.
    “Jerk,” I said between coughs, patting my chest. Brent winked when he handed me back my drink.
    A scattering of polite applause erupted around the tent and I tuned back in to Mr. Pendrell’s speech. He had paused to dab sweat from his forehead and glanced off to his left as though searching for someone. “When Dr. Marks, uh, our assistant headmaster left us last year, we were um, saddened, but we were ahh, lucky enough to have lured uh, enticed Mr. Jamie Crosby to fill that position . . .”
    “Wow. They got Crosby to come back? The man is a legend.” Brent took a drink, his eyes now glued to the stage.
    “ . . . to take the vacated position. As most of you know he um, lobbied for the, p . . . pa . . . passage of the new um, education proposition that you will all vote on um, during the next election, and had even ah, deferred, his own campaign to help out his alma mater. We—”
    In an act of mercy for all involved, Mr. Crosby cut off the rest of the introduction. “Thank you Bryan.” He patted the CEO on the shoulder and took control of the mike. He gave