What Happens After Midnight, page 20
I wouldn’t suspect him for a second, I thought while trying to ignore the ache in my chest. God, I wanted nothing more than to leave the dining hall and sneak into the student center’s secret storage room so Tag could pull my braid loose and really tangle his hands in my hair. I wanted to grab hold of his blazer lapels and laugh before—
“I have to go,” I said suddenly, even though no one was listening. They were too caught up in accosting Alex. Zoe and Maya were playing their parts well. “I’ll see you guys later.”
Tag’s hand dropped to my shoulder, warm fingertips grazing my neck. “Wait, what?” he said as I shivered. “Where are you going?”
“I’m not sure,” I murmured, “but this is too much.”
“Okay, then let’s go,” Tag said, then winked. “I know places.”
The collection of clues we’d scattered across Ames flashed through my mind, and I felt my heart twist into a knot. He was the Jester, and I was undeniably a fool for him. “No, no, stay here.” I forced a smile. “Alex needs his wingman.”
By now, a few of my theater friends had edged in front of the lacrosse guys to question Alex themselves.
“Alright. Okay.” Tag nodded slowly. “But I’ll see you later, right? Before I have to…” He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
Before I have to report to my room, I knew. For house arrest.
I still couldn’t believe it. House arrest? Seriously? I couldn’t remember the last time any student had been put under house arrest. Did the rule even actually exist?
I was going to find out.
“Man, was that a day,” Anthony said on our walk home. The sun was sinking in the sky, rays of light ringing halos around the white clouds. “Do you think Alex expected everything to blow up like that?” He chuckled. “It was chaos.”
I hesitated before answering, feeling my mouth turn up at the corners. Anthony—well, perhaps he had suspicions that Alex had been involved in the prank, but I knew that unlike the rest of the school, he didn’t believe Alex was the Jester.
He knew Alex wasn’t the Jester.
“Did you see Daniel around at all? I heard he’s already on the warpath.”
I battled back my smirk. Yes, I had seen Daniel; we’d had physics last period, and even though I hated his guts, I’d sat next to him. Neither of us said a word to each other, but I’d caught him surveying Alex across the classroom. Daniel was staring at him with as much intensity as I had when I’d believed he was the Jester.
But naturally, Alex saved himself from any post-class confrontation by going to the bathroom before the bell rang and then simply not coming back. I assumed he’d returned to grab his backpack later.
“I know Alex is the obvious choice,” Anthony said as we neared his house, “but he’s taking a lot of hits. People need to stop punching him in congratulations. He bruises easily.”
I smiled a bit. Oh, Anthony.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Alex is now safe and sound in his room.”
Because after I’d given Tag a short and sweet good-night hug, Alex had been all too eager to follow him inside their dorm.
“I know.” Anthony straightened his shoulders. “He asked me to FaceTime during the Bruins-Rangers game later.”
“Ooh…” I elbowed him. “Spicy.”
Anthony went scarlet.
I laughed, then he laughed too before we said goodbye. Josh’s car was in the driveway when I reached the cottage. “We’re in here!” my mom called from the kitchen once I shut the front door behind me, and even though whatever Josh was cooking smelled incredible, my stomach churned. Were we going to talk about my disciplinary hearing?
My mom was attempting to dice bell peppers while Josh monitored multiple pots on the stove. It looked like a lot of food. “What’s all this?” I asked.
“Dinner,” Josh answered, moving to stir something that had started sizzling.
“For a hundred?” I joked. “Are we expecting the whole neighborhood tonight?” I noticed the Tupperware on the countertop, along with the empty YETI cooler on the floor. Josh was not only making dinner for us but also dinner for Tag. I shouldn’t have been surprised; Josh had always treated Tag like a younger brother. He took care of him.
“Of course,” my mom said after I asked. “Would you want to eat delivered dining hall food?” She looked up from the cutting board and flashed me a half smirk.
Which somehow sent me over the edge.
“Well, it’s your fault he has to,” I said, more sharply than I’d meant.
My mother raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“It’s your fault,” I repeated. My heart hammered. “House arrest, Mom? In the whole history of Ames, has a house arrest ever happened? Did you really need to—”
“Yes, Lily, I did,” she interrupted as Josh diplomatically taste-tested what looked like Bolognese sauce. “I did need to be that harsh.” She put down her knife, having truly butchered the poor pepper. “Penny was going to kick his ass off campus, and no one around that conference table had any objections.”
“Except us,” Josh jumped in.
My mom nodded. “His parents were hopeless too. They argue for a living, and they didn’t even try to put up a fight, not even for their son.” She sighed. “Everyone was in agreement, so I needed to play another bad cop in order to be the good one.” She gave me a long look. “Does ‘aut viam inveniam aut facium’ ring a bell?”
Her words slowed my heart to a near stop.
Aut viam inveniam aut facium.
I shall either find a way or make one, I thought, closing my eyes to see the words inked on Tag’s bicep. There had been no straightforward way to save him from expulsion, so my mom had made one. A merciless one, but still—a way.
“Please say you’re not mad at him anymore,” I whispered, eyes prickling. “Please say his punishment is enough.” My voice wavered. “You can’t be angry with him.”
My mom picked up her knife to continue brutalizing her vegetables. “Does it look like I am?” she said. “I’m making him at least a week’s worth of dinners.”
Josh pulled a pan of mac and cheese out of the oven, one that Tag would drizzle ketchup all over. “Oh, you are, are you?” he asked dryly. “We must’ve gotten our wires crossed.” He set the pan on a cooling rack, then gestured to it. “Because I thought I was cooking him dinner.”
In the cozy kitchen, my mom turned and planted a kiss on the back of Josh’s neck. He smiled and blindly reached back to crook an arm around her waist. “No, I’m not angry with him anymore,” she told me. “I’m still upset with him, but I no longer want to set him on fire.” She dropped her voice. “Because he never ceases…”
Josh and I exchanged puzzled looks, but when my mom spoke again, my pulse spiked.
“I want to frame it.” Her frustration melted into a reluctant but bemused smile. “I want to frame that email. One of my students showed it to me.”
“Mom,” I started, ready to come clean at the same time as Josh said, “Leda, care to share with the class?”
She sighed. “The Almanacs, Josh. The stolen Almanacs? The Jester’s prank?”
“Yeah, yeah, Alex Nguyen is a criminal mastermind,” he said. “But how does that connect…” His shoulders suddenly straightened, and he whirled around to face me.
I held my hands up in surrender. “Listen, I’m not the Jester.” I swallowed hard. “Neither is Alex.” My heart pounded. “But we helped him.”
Josh sat in shock as my mom and I ate dinner. “I don’t want to know,” he said before almost immediately changing his mind. “Actually, I want to know.”
“These fajitas are amazing, hon,” my mom commented at one point, so casually that it was clear she had zero interest in hearing about my involvement in stealing the Almanacs. In fact, she’d told me she didn’t. At least not yet. “It’s a fantastic prank,” she said while Josh delivered Tag’s culinary treasure chest, “and I’ll admit that half of me is amused—and impressed—you played a part.” She sighed. “But it ended with you getting caught, Lil.” She shook her head. “I’m still very frustrated and disappointed, so I don’t want details.”
My eyes pooled. It felt foreign not telling her something and stranger still that she didn’t want to know.
After dinner, I dumped my backpack in my room and changed into pajamas while my mom sliced us huge hunks of the chocolate chip cheesecake Josh had begrudgingly baked us. “Just promise to practice proper portion control,” he’d said. “Don’t eat half of it in one night…”
“Should we watch the new Project Runway episode?” I asked on the way back downstairs. “Or are you feeling—” The words died on my lips upon entering the living room.
Because Penny Bickford was sitting on our couch, still wearing today’s elegant cream pantsuit with her legs crossed like she meant business. “Good evening, Lily,” she said.
“Good evening, Headmaster Bickford,” I replied, knowing now was not the time to call her “Penny.” Something told me she was not here in a grandmotherly capacity.
Where was my mom?
“Your mother has stepped out for a moment,” Penny said, reading my mind. “I requested that the three of us speak privately.”
“The three of us?” I asked.
“Yes.” She nodded. “I would like you to FaceTime Mr. Swell since he is currently housebound.”
My stomach sank. Oh—oh, no. Daniel had said he was working with the faculty to find the yearbooks, and because Tag and I’d been caught last night, we were Headmaster Bickford’s first lead. “Of course,” I said, trying to keep calm. “Just, um, let me grab my phone.” I pointed upstairs. “It’s in my room.”
It was really in my sweatshirt pocket, but I had to warn Tag.
“Pick up, pick up,” I muttered a minute later, back in my bedroom. He wasn’t answering. “Pick up, goddammit…”
Three tries proved not to be the charm, so I switched to my next best bet. “You’re lucky I like you, Lily,” Alex said by way of greeting. “I don’t hang up on Anthony for anyone.”
“Where’s Tag?” I asked a bit frantically. “He isn’t answering his phone.”
“Well, yeah, because he’s asleep. He’s been knocked out for like two hours.”
I glanced at my alarm clock, eyebrows then knitting together. It was almost 9:00. What had Tag done? Gone to sleep at 7:00?
“Honestly, I don’t know how you’re still standing,” Alex said. “With your disciplinary hearing first thing—”
I groaned. Holy shitballs, how was that only this morning?
It suddenly felt like weeks ago.
Alex hummed. “Mm-hmm.”
“I need you to wake Tag up,” I said, pulling myself back together. “It’s an emergency. Shake him until he speaks more than gibberish, tell him to put on a shirt, and then to please FaceTime me…”
“Hello, Taggart,” Headmaster Bickford said when I returned downstairs and joined her on the couch, close enough that we could both see Tag’s face on my phone. He wore a faded and frayed Chicago Cubs T-shirt and sat at his desk with sleep-rumpled dark hair and heavy-lidded eyes. My throat thickened, and I tried to will away the need to be with him right now—the need to bury myself in his warm chest and listen to his heartbeat while he softly kissed my forehead.
“Hello, Headmaster Bickford,” he said. “How are you?”
“Ready for a glass of wine,” she said bluntly, her headmaster façade falling away and Penny coming to life. “I’m simply going to cut to the chase so I can go home and pour myself one.” She sighed. “Did you steal the Almanacs last night?”
A puzzled expression crossed Tag’s brow. “Uh, I was with Lily,” he said. “Like I told you this morning, she and I were together. We were, um—you know, together.” He somehow summoned a blush to further evade the question.
Nerves needled the back of my neck. “It’s the Jester’s prank,” I told Penny. “The Jester took the yearbooks.”
“Yes, Lily, I’m aware,” she replied. “President Rivera made that quite clear.”
“Then why are you asking us?” Tag said. “If you want to know if we saw anyone—”
“I am asking for the obvious reason,” Headmaster Bickford interrupted. “The Almanacs were seen in the office yesterday but not today, which means they disappeared sometime within the last twenty-four hours.” She looked from Tag to me. “And the only other event of significance within that time frame is your tryst. I wondered if they could be one and the same.”
She cleared her throat. “Because to be honest, Taggart, while Mr. Nguyen certainly has an imagination and more than enough enthusiasm, I always thought you would make the better Jester.”
My heart lurched, but Tag kept a cool face. “Alex isn’t the Jester, Headmaster.”
“I know,” she said as I heard the squeak of the back door. My mom was home. “Though he is considered a likely candidate, so I will be speaking with him tomorrow.” She flicked an invisible piece of fluff off her jacket. “Thank you both for your candor.” My mom stepped into the room with a bottle of chilled white wine. No matter what the situation was, she knew how to defuse it. Headmaster Bickford smiled gratefully, then advised Tag to get some rest. “You look very tired, dear.”
In her heart of hearts, she did have a soft spot for him.
TWENTY-FOUR
The Almanac intrigue was stronger than ever on Saturday. Whispers about the yearbooks’ hiding place filled the hallways, and everyone’s eyes met during mandatory morning class, trying to decipher whether the Jester was in the room. Alex was officially out of the running, since the entirety of Ames had woken up to an email from him:
To: Group_All_Students@ames.edu
From: ANguyen@ames.edu
Subject: Please stop punching me
Ladies and gentlemen!
While I am extremely flattered that you think me worthy of wearing the jingling jokester’s cap, I am NOT the Jester. I know it’s a nearly impossible realization to face, but you all must look deeply inside yourselves and come to terms with the truth.
Repeat after me: Alex Nguyen did not touch the Almanacs!
I will not be taking any questions, concerns, arm punches, or fist bumps at this time. Please respect my privacy.
Cheers,
Alex
Zoe and I’d agreed that he was good—almost too good. Alex Nguyen did not touch the Almanacs. Because indeed, he hadn’t laid a hand on the yearbooks; instead of helping us move the boxes on Thursday night, he’d held back Maya’s hair while she hurled in the bathroom.
Classes concluded at lunchtime, and by that afternoon, Blair Greenberg was the newest nominee. Underclassmen twittered like birds around her Adirondack chair, and surprisingly she wasn’t loving it. Pravika, Zoe, Maya, and I were halfway across the Circle, sunning ourselves on beach towels, but we simultaneously sat up when we heard her eruption. “No!” she shouted. “I am not the Jester, so back the hell off!”
“Someone’s salty,” Zoe commented after Blair burst from her chair, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and then stormed off to her dorm. Zoe smiled teasingly at me.
“Well, there’s my brother,” Maya said, “on a mission to intercept her.”
She pointed to Daniel, who was all but sprinting toward Blair. He was the only one who hadn’t welcomed the weekend, still wearing his Ames blazer, a striped tie, and khakis. My guess was he was sweating bullets under his jacket.
And not just because it was almost eighty degrees.
“Daniel, don’t!” Blair barked at him. “Don’t you dare!”
“But—” Daniel started, although before he could continue, Blair swerved around him and even flashed him the finger in her wake.
Pravika sucked in a breath. “Okay, she’s definitely not the Jester.”
“Nope,” Zoe said. “Just a mad woman.”
I bit my pinkie nail.
We went back to soaking up the sun, but before long, my phone buzzed with a text from Alex. Just got out of my meeting with Penny, it said. We talked more about my salutatorian speech than the prank. She also asked how Taggart was doing under lock and key.
What did you say? I wrote back.
That he was just dandy, he said. Because you were visiting him.
My heart twisted and I started rolling up my towel. “I’ve gotta go,” I said to my friends. “Update me if anything interesting happens.” I nodded at a nearby circle of sophomores, who were currently theorizing that the Almanacs had somehow been swindled away during the day. Because how else would the Jester have gotten into the yearbook office?
My friends exchanged amused, knowing glances.
We’re not really back together, I almost said. It’s only an act.
Although after our “interview” with Penny last night, Tag and I’d fallen asleep on FaceTime together. We’d done that all the time while we were dating. Neither of us ever wanted to be the first to say good night.
Grundy House, or the senior guys’ dorm, looked like a converted Georgian manor: faded red brick with a side-gabled roof, four chimneys, and a symmetrical grid of tall, white-framed windows. I bypassed the front entrance and went straight for the first-floor corner room. Rather than transparent windowpanes, Tag and Alex’s were stained glass, so you couldn’t catch much movement inside their inner sanctum. I battled my way through the bushes to find a nondescript wooden stool waiting underneath the window. How convenient, I thought, shaking my head before climbing up to knock on the colored glass.
“I’m sorry,” Tag wearily called, “but per the order of Ames, I’m trying very hard not to connect with people right now.”
“Have you been rewatching Schitt’s Creek?” I asked when he hoisted up the window, recognizing David’s famous line.
“Possibly,” he replied, unable to make eye contact. I blushed; he was checking me out in my bikini top and shorts. My friends and I had really committed to getting our vitamin D.
I licked my lips. “Possibly?”
Tag blinked and ran a hand through his hair before our eyes locked. Today’s sunshine brought out the green in his irises. “I’m halfway through season four,” he admitted.
