Cragbridge Hall, Book One: The Inventor's Secret by Chad Morris Page A

He always wore his rings. She disconnected and tried again. “I’m still not getting anything.”
    “Me, neither,” Derick added.
    “Try again,” Abby ordered.
    For once, Carol was silent.
    Nearly a minute later, Derick reported that still no one answered.
    Abby burst into a sprint down the hallway.
    “Abby!” Derick ran after her, Carol close behind.
    Abby didn’t look back.
    The three teenagers rushed down the hall and out of the building. Abby sprinted down the long sidewalk. She approached the looming outer walls of the school several yards ahead of the others. A large gate was surrounded by several guards. On her way inside yesterday, she’d noticed they were all armed.
    A guard approached her. Abby slowed down, not wanting to excite him. She wiped her face with one sleeve.
    The guard was muscular and well over six feet tall. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
    “I was told I could leave to visit my grandfather when ...” Abby paused as a sleek robot with arms as thin as bamboo rods seemed to be scanning her. It rolled around on a single wheel.
    Just like when they’d passed through the gates the first time, the guard explained that the scan was for both the safety of the students and the protection of the inventions inside.
    “You see,” the guard said, humdrum, “no one can leave without permission.” He didn’t seem interested in the rest of her explanation. “Especially when the next classes start in just a few—” A green light flashed on the side of his booth. The man stopped midsentence. “I’ve never seen that before. The man used his rings for a moment, obviously double-checking the information. “Huh?” he grunted. “I’ve never.”
    “Please, sir, I really need to leave. It won’t take long.” Abby wiped her face again.
    Derick arrived, and the thin robot scanned him. Carol followed behind, talking despite the run. “You know we aren’t going to be able to leave. This place is like a prison. Don’t take that the wrong way—I mean, it’s an amazing educational prison with fantastic opportunities. It’s just that we can’t—”
    “Oh,” the guard said. “Looks like that last name of yours comes with some privileges.” The man’s all-business attitude broke a little as he looked at Abby again. “Are you sure you want to leave?”
    “I’ll be fine. I just need to check on something,” Abby said.
    “You can go, but lunch ends soon and classes will start, so you’d better hurry. If you’re late, they’ll mark you truant and track you through your rings—for your safety, of course. They want to take good care of you.” He motioned with his hands, as the large gate opened. It had to be at least six inches thick and made of heavy metal. Abby walked forward through the open doors. When she heard the gates close behind her, she looked at another set of gates in front of her. The protective system let students out gradually; no one could rush out when the large gates opened. They had to get permission, step through one set of doors, and then another, before they reached the large front gate. Abby could hear the guard’s voice reminding her to hurry.
    The third and last set of doors opened, and Abby broke into a run. She raced up the street and turned left at the light. She passed a string of cars in recharging slots. She glanced over her shoulder; Derick followed after her, but not Carol—she wouldn’t have the same privileges as a Cragbridge.
    Abby ran with everything she had. Her sprint up the monk mountainside was a jog compared to this. Derick couldn’t keep up. Soon Abby’s legs felt rubbery, and her lungs half their normal size, but she pushed on.
    She told herself to stay calm. Everything would be fine. Grandpa fell asleep or got too involved in another project. Mom and Dad would be there, working so hard that they didn’t sync back. She was getting all worked up over nothing. Abby consciously lengthened her stride, trying to get a few more inches