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though, only computer disks, and she had gotten caught trying to find the right disk.
    Then she had searched every inch of Schooner Inne. She had even looked and measured for secret compartments and hidden backs on cabinets and bookcases.
    But there was nothing at Schooner Inne except the weird whistle of the wind off the Atlantic Ocean crying, “Fffffffffffff!” until Christina grew dizzy and sick trying not to hear it.
    But now she knew about the briefcase. A container Mr. Shevvington stroked like a pet.
    Christina could imagine Mr. Shevvington … the office door locked … his secretary told to hold telephone calls … she could see his fine suit, his gleaming vest, the dashing little scarf he liked to wear … taking a beloved file from the deep, dark leather. How well she knew that private, gloating smile.
    The power of adults! How they could humiliate a child in class. How easily they could manipulate and frighten. How they could control a child’s future by vicious rumor or carefully planned coincidence.
    Anya had been the hope and pride of Burning Fog Isle. And now, thanks to hard work on the Shevvingtons’ part, Anya was a high school dropout who worked at the laundromat, folding other people’s clothing … if she remembered how. And the Shevvingtons were so clever! They convinced everybody that it was Anya’s fault. “Poor Anya has a weak character,” they said.
    Before Anya, the victim had been Robbie’s sister Val. Christina would always remember Robbie’s warning, when school started last fall. “You’re new here, Christina. You’ve been out on that island, protected from things. You don’t know. Be careful of the Shevvingtons.”
    And Christina had said, “Why?”
    “I had an older sister,” he replied, giving the sister no name, no description, as if she were truly not a person, just a thing. Robbie’s eyes were sad and dark.
    But later Christina found out. Her name was Val. She was even worse than Anya. She’d been stuck in an institution. Was still there. “Why don’t your parents do something about the Shevvingtons?” Christina had cried.
    Robbie raised his eyebrows. “They are grateful to the Shevvingtons,” he said quietly. “For trying so hard to help Val. For finding her a counselor, and when that didn’t work, for helping them put Val away.”
    So among the files Mr. Shevvington would smile over would be Val’s. He had truly triumphed with Val. There was nothing at all left of her.
    Before Val, Christina had no knowledge. The Shevvingtons had not been in Maine before that.
    I will find out, Christina thought. I will get the truth. I will stop the Shevvingtons before they can fill any folders full of Dolly or me.
    A pink overhead light in the parking lot buzzed like a swarm of hornets. Christina gripped a wire trash basket and rolled it over the ice-pocked snow. She stood it up under the girls’ bathroom window.
    What if Mr. Shevvington had gone into the bathroom to check, once he’d spotted her coming out? What if he knew her errand? What if he had heard her sneaking out of Schooner Inne and gotten here ahead of her?
    The rhythm of her breathing was frantic. Her lungs slammed against her ribs. She climbed on top of the garbage can. With cold fingers she felt the window sill.
    Neither the janitors nor Mr. Shevvington had found her folded paper towel. She forced her fingers under the crack and opened the window.
    Swinging one foot in, Christina rested her stomach on the sill and then lowered herself sideways inside the school. Her heart was pounding so hard her chest hurt. She took the flashlight out of her inside jacket pocket and turned it on.
    The compartments and sinks of the girls’ bathroom glittered cold and metallic. The dozen mirrors threw Christina’s reflection back and forth. She crept out of the bathroom. The door shut silently and slowly behind her.
    There were no windows in the halls.
    The darkness was complete. As sick, as abnormal as the Shevvingtons.
    The