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impatiently for the elevator, then jogged back to the Media Center. They slid into their seats just in time. “Why do they tape at a different time every day?” Nancy asked. “It’s kind of a weird schedule, isn’t it?”
    â€œSusan told me why,” George replied. “It’s because they have to work around the guests’ availability. It doesn’t much matter because the show airs at five every day. Just as long as it’s taped by then, it’s okay.”
    The music came on for the start of the show, and Marcy made her entrance. “We’re talking today with people who’ve stopped talking—to each other,” Marcy told the audience, plopping down on the sofa. Across from her sat three teens and three adults. Nancy thought they all looked pretty uncomfortable.
    â€œMeet Trina Myers and her mom, Barbara. And here are Amy Jeffers and her mother, Linda, and Phil Dugan and his dad, Phil senior. These teens and their parents all have something in common. They don’t speak to each other! Phil, when was the last time you talked to your dad?”
    â€œUm,” the boy said, “it must be a couple of months now.”
    â€œIt’s been over six months, Marcy!” his father corrected angrily.
    â€œTell us about it,” Marcy said to them. “How did it happen?”
    What followed were fireworks and tears. The teens and their parents directed their comments to Marcy, almost as if they were communicating through her. It seemed to make it easier for them all to open up.
    â€œTrina claims you never loved her,” Marcy told Barbara Myers, who was staring stonily in front of her. “That’s a heavy accusation.”
    â€œIt’s totally wrong, too!” Mrs. Myers protested. “Of course, I love her!”
    â€œHold on to the rest of your thoughts while we break for these messages.” Marcy was reading the rolling TelePrompTer that was off to the side and out of camera view. It contained messages for Marcy, such as reminding her of commercial breaks.
    All at once, Nancy saw Marcy’s face turn white. “Folks, I-I’m terribly sorry,” she stammerednervously to the audience. “Please don’t panic, but we’re all going to have to get out of here right away. I just received a message that there’s a bomb planted somewhere in this studio—and it’s set to go off any minute!”

Chapter

Six
    N ANCY SPRANG FROM her seat in the audience and made straight for the talk show host’s side. Nancy read the message on the TelePrompTer: “You didn’t quit, so now you’ll be blown away. Bomb goes off at 11:23 sharp.”
    Pandemonium had broken out in the studio as the audience pushed for the exits. Nancy, too, could feel panic rising within her. She quickly checked her watch. It was 11:16.
    â€œPlease, don’t panic!” one of the ushers warned everyone. The look of terror on her face didn’t exactly inspire confidence. Nancy scanned the mob for the other usher and saw him speaking into a walkie-talkie. She figured he was warning security to evacuate the building and call the police.
    â€œGeorge, help everyone get out!” Nancy yelled to her friend. She noticed that the warring parents and teens were helping each other.
    Nancy grabbed Marcy’s elbow and guided her to one of the wide exits at the back of the studio. There, Nancy recognized the security guard encouraging people to get out quickly.
    â€œMarcy, head for the street!” Nancy yelled, giving her a nudge forward. Across the lobby, she could see George and Brenda Fox holding the doors open to let people exit.
    â€œDo you need help?” Nancy stopped to ask the security guard.
    â€œNo, just get out. Please,” he urged. “The police will be here any second.”
    Elevators kept opening, discharging hordes of people from the upper floors, and dozens more poured through the fire-stairs doors.