Chapter 27

CHAPTER 27 "Stop it! Who's doing that?" Jonah screamed as pebbles rained down on him. "I'll have you know —this face is insured!" He automatically looked around for a bodyguard to protect him, but Jonah had left all his bodyguards behind when he'd sneaked off without telling his parents. When he'd decided to be true to his own self. Jonah imagined his mother there, taunting him, And you thought you could win this on your own? Ian and Natalie dropped to the stairs together when the first stone hit. "It can't be her. It can't be her," Natalie chanted. "Please tell me it's not her." "Of course not," Ian said. "That would be impossible." He glanced at his watch. "We've still got time."

Another stone clattered past them. "It's just one of the riffraff, right?" Natalie asked anxiously. "Absolutely," Ian agreed. He'd never realized what a lovely word riffraff was. The riffraff were beneath his notice. They didn't matter. They couldn't hurt him because he was superior to the riffraff of the world in every way. But what if the riffraff beat Natalie and him to the prize? Dan swung his flashlight around as soon as he heard Jonah and the Kabras screaming behind him. Stones were falling from the ledge high above, where the elevator was. Dan didn't care about stones. He was more interested in the dark figure that had dislodged the stones— a figure now swinging on a rope, past the staircase. "No! No! He— she— whoever— they're getting ahead of us!" Dan screamed. The black figure made a perfect arc and landed

at the bottom of the spiral staircase, only a few paces from a door. Then the figure turned and raced toward it. "No!" Dan screamed. "We! Can't! Lose!" Hamilton blinked, confused. Why hadn't he thought of tying a rope somewhere and swinging down past the spiral staircase? I couldn't see where the bottom of the staircase was, he thought. It was too dark. He noticed that the figure by the door was wearing the same kind of night-vision goggles that soldiers used. He felt a burst of pride that someone in his family, someone on his team— Reagan? Madison? His mom?— had been so prepared. "Hold on! I'm coming with you!" Hamilton hollered. "I'm on your team!" He shoved past Alistair, who was still looking back. Ian, Natalie, and Jonah were easy to jump past, since they were crouched down on the stairs. "I'm coming, too!" Dan screamed.

"Not while there are stones falling," Hamilton said, leaping past both Cahill kids. Hamilton didn't stop to think if he was protecting Dan or just delaying him. Five huge steps later, Hamilton was close enough to grab the dark figure's arm. "Reagan? Madison?" he asked. "Wait! It's me! Where are the others?" Hamilton had probably grabbed his sisters' arms a thousand times apiece during their childhood, even if you only counted games where he held them down until they promised to do what he wanted. As he squeezed his hand tighter and tighter around the dark figure's arm, he thought, Not enough muscle to be Reagan or Madison. Then he thought, Or Mom. Or certainly not Dad. This arm was scrawny. And— scarred. "You're not a Holt!" Hamilton accused. "Sure, I am!" the figure whispered. "Hammy, uh… bro! Let go! I'll run ahead. You hold off the others." She was trying to pull away. Hamilton tightened his grip.

"No, you're not. You're— you're—" In his mind, Hamilton ran through the hundreds of scrawny arms he'd grabbed over the years, mostly belonging to little kids back home in Wisconsin who'd proved to be incredibly eager to give him their lunch money. Somehow, he didn't like thinking about that now. He narrowed his mental search to scrawny arms he'd grabbed during the Clue hunt. At the Globe Theatre, the ninja in breeches… "You're Sinead Starling!" Suddenly, Hamilton understood why he could feel scars through the girl's sleeve. She really did get hurt in that Franklin Institute explosion, Hamilton thought guiltily. The one my family caused… His grip on Sinead's arm faltered.