Time Bomb(47)

Diana walked closer to the window while a commercial for insurance played on the radio.

“How about we put anything we find that can be useful in the center of the room? Like our captain said earlier, nothing is too crazy to consider,” Diana said, giving Frankie a sweet smile, even though his handsome face made her want to scream. “We can listen to the news while we’re doing that. And maybe, since Cas isn’t up to moving around a lot, she can make another sign with all of our names on it.”

“Why?” Rashid’s head snapped up.

“To let the firefighters know we relocated from the third floor down here with you. If they’re given the go ahead to enter the building again, we want them to know where we are.”

Without waiting for approval, Diana grabbed a poster off the wall, found a black marker in the teacher’s desk, and handed it to Cas. Then she walked over to the middle of the room where Frankie had shoved back a few desks to clear a space on the floor for dumping anything useful they found. So far there were two short extension cords, a couple of rolls of burlap-looking twine, and some metal rulers.

“Not a lot to work with so far,” she commented. Frankie glanced at her and shrugged.

He’d asked her out a bunch of times, and she’d dodged at first because she knew his reputation with girls. No one went out with Frankie Ochoa without putting out. Everyone knew that.

So when she finally decided she wanted to break free of her perfect mold, he was the ideal choice. Their first date was a movie. The movie sucked, but making out with Frankie more than made up for it. She’d actually looked forward to seeing him at her father’s Fourth of July party. Only not long after he arrived, Frankie told her he was going to the bathroom, and he never came back. No explanation. No apology.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out,” Frankie said. “I’m not the giving-up type.”

“Yes, you are,” she said as Cas asked Z for Kaitlin’s last name and for his real one.

“Alex Vega. And hers is O’Malley. Kaitlin O’Malley,” Z said as Frankie turned away from Diana. As if who she was wasn’t important enough to matter. Just as Diana’s father had so often done with her.

Well, Diana thought, they were wrong. They were both very wrong.

Cas finished writing. Diana helped put tape on the back of the sign while trying to decide what her next move should be. She didn’t like waiting around, hoping things would turn out the way she wanted. She needed to do something.

The poster ripped as Diana yanked it through the narrow opening and finally was able to slap it to the brick wall next to the window. She ran her hand over the front to get the thing to stick as best she could, then waved out the window at the people standing in the parking lot. The wind pulled at the paper, and Diana knew it wouldn’t stay in place for very long, but it would be long enough for the cameras to record the names. Then when the wind blew the paper off the wall, reporters would capture that image, too. It would make for a poignant moment of television. They would show the image over and over again while they read the names of those who were trapped inside, begging for help. Tim always said the framing of her father’s narrative was just as important as the message. It was why Diana always had to look perfectly all-American. A picture was worth a thousand words, because rarely did anyone bother to read the words that went with the picture. It was the picture that drove them to action.

“Why do you dislike Frankie?” Cas asked.

“What do you mean?” Diana kept her eyes directed out the window, but inside, she went still. “I like him fine. Everyone does.”

“You sound annoyed whenever you talk to him, and you looked worried when he got near your backpack.”

“Maybe you heard me being stressed when I talked to Frankie,” Diana deflected. “Or maybe you’re just upset because you told me something you wish you hadn’t.” Cas looked away, and Diana lowered her voice to ask, “You said you came to school to die. How did you plan on doing it? Do you have a gun with you?”

Once again, Cas pulled her own bag close against her side. It looked mostly empty, but clearly there was still something inside.

The fear in Cas’s eyes was all the answer Diana needed.

Diana glanced over her shoulder out the window, then turned back. “I think they’ve seen the sign,” she said loud enough to make sure everyone in the room could hear. Cas directed her attention toward the window, and Diana tried to decide what to do next.

Tim would have an idea. But as much as her father listened to advice, he was the one who made the tough calls. If her father could do it, she could too.

The rest of the group hurried toward the window to look as the radio news anchor reported that firefighters were still battling the blaze and explosive experts were using all methods open to them to get in and rescue those still trapped in the building—seven of whom were located on the second floor.

“. . . Members of the senator’s staff have suggested that the target of today’s ongoing attack is Senator Sanford’s daughter, Diana. While authorities will not confirm that speculation, Senator Sanford has been under attack from many who believe his Safety Through Education bill will usher in what has been called a new version of McCarthyism.”

“Well,” Diana said, “at least they know where we are now. My father says—”