Zosia stayed at school after choir rehearsal. The corridor smelled of chalk and a wet jacket, and the fluorescent lights buzzed over her head. Bartek, her neighbour from the bench, waved at her from under the lockers. - 'I left my whistle from PE. Can you help? - he asked. Zosia nodded and ran over to the yellow lockers. The row of metal doors stood quietly, only the yellow one, number 27, trembled like a telephone. - 'I didn't put anything in there,' muttered Bartek. Zosia carefully touched the metal handle. It was warm, as if someone had held it a moment ago. A whisper came from inside, almost like the wind in a bottle. - Do you hear? - Zosia looked at Bartek. When she opened the door, instead of backpacks she saw a a staircase of blue light. They flowed down like a waterfall, and luminous letters rushed down them. The letters formed their names. The air smelled of a storm, and the announcement cards moved without a breeze. - 'It must be a projector trick,' Bartek tried to joke, but his voice trembled. A quiet voice came from the depths of the cupboard: - Help... please... - and something lit up far below, like a lantern in the mist. Susan put her foot on the first luminous step. It did not disappear; it was as hard as ice. The stairs twitched, as if waiting. - If it's a trap? - Bartek squeezed her hand. - If it's an invitation? - she replied. Suddenly the number 27 began to flash and all the other cabinets responded with a short beep, one after the other. The luminous letters broke apart and flowed towards Zosia. They enveloped her shoes, her ankles, her knees, pulling her downwards. From below rose a shadow, tall as a man but with a heart that shone through. The shadow raised its hand and pointed straight at her.