Abby and the rest of her friends go international as they embark on their first “official” Center mission in this second book in the Mrs. Smith’s Spy School for Girls series. After discovering the truth about her spy school/boarding school—and her super-spy mom—Abby Hunter is ready for her next adventure, but what’s about to happen is something she never would have guessed… Everyone at The Smith School is obsessed with Monster Mayhem, the latest reality video game craze. But when Drexel Caine, the mastermind behind the game, is suddenly kidnapped, it becomes clear that the kidnappers are playing for more than just special badges. After Drexel’s son—who is Abby’s friend, Toby—receives a cryptic message, Abby and her friends discover the kidnapping is part of a bigger scheme that could take down The Center for good. With the help of Abby’s frenemy (and reluctant mentor), Veronica Brooks, the group tackles their first official Center Mission. They tangle with the world’s most notorious hacker, get in trouble for the possible theft of the Mona Lisa, and prepare for the ultimate showdown in London. But not before they have to contend with one more hurdle: the agonizing Smith School Spring Formal. Along the way, they discover they are much stronger as a team than they can ever be alone. And with a little luck, they might just save the world. Beth McMullen is the author of the Mrs. Smith’s Spy School for Girls series; the Lola Benko, Treasure Hunter series; the Secret of the Storm series; and several adult mysteries. Her books have heroes and bad guys, action and messy situations. An avid reader, she once missed her subway stop and rode the train all the way to Brooklyn because the book she was reading was that good. She lives in northern California with her family and two cats. Visit her at BethMcMullenBooks.com. Power Play Chapter 1 LEVEL UP OR GET BUSTED TRYING. THERE IS NO WAY THE alarm code for the McKinsey House dormitory door is wrong. I enter it again—7-A-4-3-P-X-*—but the light stays red and the door doesn’t budge. I stomp my foot in aggravation, quietly of course, because breaking out of a locked Smith School dorm on a school night, or any other time, for that matter, is frowned upon. If I enter the wrong code one more time, the alarms will blare so loudly they will wake the dead and certainly the McKinsey House dorm mother, who will find me here in the entryway, looking guilty. Toby swore by this code sequence. When he slipped it to me on a piece of paper in the dining hall earlier today, he even went so far as to give me a shaky thumbs-up and a slightly nauseous-looking smile. I smiled back, feeling it wasn’t appropriate to mention he looked like he’d been run over by a bus. After all, Toby’s one of my best friends and he did spend twenty-four seven for a week hacking the new alarm code generator before his dorm master noticed he wasn’t showering or changing his clothes (gross) and Toby ended up doing a lot of dancing before the interim headmaster, who remained unconvinced of his innocence. But now it seems the effort was for nothing. I have to go out the window anyway. The dorm is dark and smells like leftover pizza and this weird organic cleanser they use in the bathroom. That was one of the interim headmaster’s changes. Plus she got rid of the gooey, creamy joy and happiness that was the dining hall’s macaroni and cheese! Who does that? It was the only eatable thing they made. So what if it had zero nutritional value? Now they serve quinoa. We might as well eat cardboard. It has more taste. I slip into Izumi’s first-floor room. My room is on the fourth floor. To rappel out the fourth-floor window, a girl needs to tie together four sheets, increasing the risk of grave personal injury exponentially over, say, the first-floor window. Izumi lies on her back, jaw slack, snoring like a freight train. I’m silent as the night until I trip over her rugby uniform, in a heap on the floor, and crash headlong into the bed. “Abby!” she barks before her eyes even open. How does she know it’s me? As if reading my mind, she says, “Of course it’s you. Who else would be wandering around in the middle of the night? What happened to Toby’s code?” “Didn’t work,” I whisper. Izumi pulls a pillow over her head. “The sheets are in the closet. Close the window when you go. I have a calc exam tomorrow. Good night. Go away.” I poke her in the thigh. “You’re the best,” I say. “I know,” she grumbles. I dig through her closet and find two sheets, still tied together from the last time I had to make a midnight window exit. I knot them around the leg of the desk and climb out the window, descending in the cold March darkness to the grass below. Now, the interim headmaster got rid of the mac and cheese, and that was bad. But she also fired Betty and Barney, the drooling, vicious, bloodthirsty nighttime guard dogs, and that was good. I’m no longer at risk of being torn to bits by animals lower down on the