Mr. Doyle calls us to attention, and Gabriel disappears to the back of the room. The principal speaks about my friend, his kindness, his talents, his easy smile. He shows us videos of Shadow, his movies, his reporting on the boardwalk. He talks about the huge web community he built, sharing with the world what we see in the Zone every day. He calls him special and remarkable, and it’s sincere. He ends by showing us a video of Shadow break dancing with some other kids. He was good, another marvelous layer to my friend.
I look around, hoping Bex is here, watching her boy dancing and laughing and being eminently cool. I know she’d want to see this, see him one last time as she knew him, but she is not here.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Why am I still at school? My parents went home hours ago, and every class is just another memorial service. I suppose I’m hoping Bex will materialize. Or maybe I just don’t want to be at home with my mother. I can’t help but feel like she’s a traitor to us as well.
I’m starving, so I head to the cafeteria. I haven’t eaten in a day and a half, and with my migraine I’m feeling very shaky. I need to get something inside me so I don’t pass out. I snatch some kind of sandwich, not bothering to find out what it is, and head to a table to sit by myself. I haven’t sat by myself since the third grade. As I chew, I fight back the tears again.
“I thought we were going to be friends.”
I turn to find Governor Bachman standing over me.
“Um—”
“You made me look very foolish the other day. I bet you thought that was funny,” she says. It takes me a second to realize she has figured out there is no Sendak Island. “You’ve made a mistake, kiddo. I’m the last person you want as an enemy. You and your friend Mr. Doyle kept me busy while he emptied the school. He’s not the only one who has tricks up his sleeve, though.”
“Just leave me alone,” I beg. “My friend was murdered. Can’t you just be kind? Is there nothing in you that is human?”
A reporter and a cameraman enter the cafeteria, and she waves them over. “In here, please. Yes, you can set up over there. Let me know when you’re ready.”
“We’re all ready,” the reporter says eagerly. “We’ll do this hand-held.”
“Good!” Bachman looks so pleased with herself. She straightens her suit, then turns to face the camera just as Doyle and thirty soldiers dash into the room. His face is both shocked and angry, and he’s out of breath. He must have run all the way from his office.
“Governor, I understand you need a little attention, but this is no place for your publicity stunts. My team is outside, and we’re putting a stop to this game.”
“What game?” I ask.
Bachman grins and waves a white envelope in the air like it’s a conquering flag. “See, that’s the thing, Mr. Doyle. You can’t stop a court order. I didn’t think you had the power to expel all those students, so I went and talked to a judge, and he agreed with me. So they’re coming back to get the education they so richly deserve. This school was built for the children of Coney Island—all of them.”
She pushes the emergency-exit door. On the other side is an army, all in red T-shirts. Each of them wears a wicked grin that matches the governor’s, and they file through the door.
“Welcome back, kids,” she continues. “Please step all the way in. We need to make room for everyone.”
“I have the power to expel anyone who disrupts the learning process,” Doyle says.
“Maybe, but today these kids are going to school.”
Doyle gives a look to one of his soldiers and watches as he runs off, while the Niners continue to enter. I see Jorge pass by, then Svetlana, even Deshane. There are others—Lara, Luiz, so many I had almost forgotten about—kids who were sent packing to keep the rest of us safe. Now they’re back, like a cancer spreading through Hylan’s bloodstream. Six hundred kids walk through the door, and every one of them is trouble.
“This place is going to explode,” someone says.
He’s right.
The governor turns to me. Her sneer is triumphant. “Today I am righting a wrong in Coney Island. Let no one think that monsters come before a human child.”
She takes off her suit jacket, revealing her very own Coney Island Nine T-shirt. Her teenage army claps and cheers as she flirts with the camera.
Doyle spots Bonnie among the soldiers. “Take Ms. Walker out of here. Fast.”
She grabs me by the arm, and we race out of the cafeteria and into the halls, but the Niners are everywhere, pouring through the main entrance and the fire exits. They roam the halls in packs, shoving around anyone not wearing a red T-shirt. The soldiers and cops seem helpless to stop them. There are just too many.
“This is insane,” Bonnie barks into her radio. Someone shouts back, but I can’t make out what the other person said. “Damn! The front doors are blocked. We need to go out the exit in the rear.”
We make a U-turn but have to push our way through a sea of red shirts. They spit on us as we pass, and one tries to punch me, but Bonnie aims her rifle at him.
“Be smart!” she shouts, and the kid takes her advice.
A dozen soldiers run past, and another dozen come the other way. Someone is shouting through Bonnie’s radio. I hear a gunshot. When we get to the rear exit, we find another gang of Niners waiting for us.