Spy School by Stuart Gibbs Read Free Book Online Page B

kill you. Tonight.”
    “You don’t believe me?” I asked.
    The principal stared at me for a bit. It was hard to tell if he was being careful with his answer or was just sleepy. It was 2:05 in the morning. The principal had been roused only ten minutes before and appeared to be in desperate need of caffeine. As he lived on the school grounds, he had merely wrapped a thick robe over his pajamas and hurried right to the dormitory. His fluffy slippers were soggy from the snow.
    “There’s no sign of the killer,” he said. “Or the weapon.”
    “He shot through my window,” I countered.
    “Lots of things could have broken that window.”
    “There must be a bullet.”
    “Sure. Somewhere outside under five acres of snow.”
    I grew exasperated. It probably wasn’t the smartest move, but I was tired too. “You really think I trashed my own room and smacked myself around to make it look like someone tried to kill me? Why would I do that?”
    “I don’t know,” the principal replied. “To get attention, maybe. The more important question is: Why would someone want to kill you ? You just started here. You barely passed your SACSAs today. If someone wanted to go to the trouble to get past all our defenses and break into a dormitory to kill someone, you’d think they’d go after somebody worth killing.”
    I paused to think about that. Although the statement was offensive, I had to admit there was some logic to it.
    The principal had commandeered Tina’s room to question me. My room had been sealed off until a team of expert crime scene investigators could arrive. I hadn’t even been allowed to grab my own clothes. I was still wearing Tina’s fluffy bathrobe. Together, the principal and I looked like a page from a Bed Bath & Beyond catalog.
    There was a knock at the door.
    “What is it now?” the principal snapped.
    “Thought I might be of service.” Alexander Hale slipped inside. Unlike the principal, he was wide awake. In fact, it appeared he hadn’t gone to bed yet. He still wore his tuxedo, though the bow tie was undone and the collar was unbuttoned. There was a tiny red smear of what looked like lipstick on his neck. “I came as soon as I heard.”
    The principal probably would have chewed out anyone else who barged into his interrogation, but he shrank respectfully before Alexander. “Where were you?” he asked.
    “Doing a little undercover work at the Russian embassy.” Alexander gave a sly wink, then turned to me. “But that’s not what’s important right now. Are you all right, Benjamin?”
    “Yes.”
    “How’d you escape? Who rescued you?”
    “I did it myself.”
    Alexander whistled appreciatively. “Really? How? Karate? Jujitsu? Krav Maga?”
    “Tennis racket.”
    “Ah! I told you that’d come in handy. Nice work.”
    The principal shrugged, unimpressed. “It would’ve been really nice if he hadn’t allowed the killer to escape.”
    “It’s his first night here,” Alexander replied. “He hasn’t even had Intro to Self-Defense yet, let alone Enemy Subjugation and Apprehension.”
    “And yet he fought off a professional assassin? With a mere tennis racket?” the principal asked incredulously. “Maybe there wasn’t a killer at all. Maybe it was just some of the older boys hazing him and he couldn’t take it.”
    My thoughts briefly flickered to Chip Schacter. He seemed like a big enough jerk to think threatening someone with a loaded gun was funny.
    But then something occurred to me. Something I’d forgotten about in my panic.
    “He asked me about something called Pinwheel,” I said.
    The principal and Alexander both turned toward me, surprised. Then they both tried to hide the fact that they were surprised. Alexander did a considerably better job.
    “Pinwheel?” the principal asked, acting as though this was the oddest thing he’d ever heard.
    “What is it?” I asked.
    “I don’t know,” the principal replied in a way that suggested he was lying. “I’ve never