What Happens After Midnight, page 7
“Now the real fun begins,” Alex whispered as I walked straight into Tag’s back when he stopped short near one of the windows. Both his arms swooped back to steady me in case I wobbled. It was like being wrapped in a backward hug; I had to fight the urge to lean into it. He smelled faintly of chlorine and his flannel shirt was so soft.
“Headlights,” Tag murmured. Alex motioned for us to retreat to the nearby stairwell before we listened for the mechanic hum of an engine to pass. Once Tag had double-checked that the nocturnal streets were again quiet, we slid out a side exit.
“Harvey is on duty tonight,” I told Tag. “With Guardhouse Gabe shadowing him. He told me the other day.”
“I know,” Tag said.
“You do?”
“Lily, you aren’t the only one who talks to Gabe.”
“We mostly discuss chess,” Alex cheerfully chimed in. “Believe it or not, he’s really into it. Sometimes we’ll play during my free periods. Taggart comes and watches…”
I rolled my eyes. “And subtly takes pictures of the weekly guard schedule?”
“I’ll neither confirm nor deny,” Tag said.
“You knew but didn’t plan this for Mr. Harvey’s day off?” Manik asked. “Or during his retirement party?”
“Oh, shitballs,” I said. “My mom and I are supposed to bring dessert to that.”
Tag chuckled. “Leda wears an apron now?”
“Only for dramatic effect,” I said. “I’ll whip up brownies or something while she supervises and then taste tests. Same as always.”
Tag was silent for a beat. “She’s going to miss you next year.”
A lump formed in my throat. I was going to miss her too once I left for Georgetown. “She’ll be okay,” I whispered. “She has Josh to keep her well fed.”
Especially since he was finally moving in this fall. It was perfect timing because I’d be gone, and he’d have fulfilled his five-year housemaster requirement. Most Ames faculty members lived in a dorm before they graduated to the neighborhood. At twenty-four, my mom had arrived on campus with a toddler on her hip and became housemaster in the junior girls’ house. “Everyone was very eager to babysit you,” she once told me. “Although after you turned six, it became difficult wrangling you into bed with Taylor Swift blasting on the other side of the door. You always wanted to go dance with the girls in the common room.”
Honestly, it explained why my go-to karaoke song was “The Story of Us.” One of the girls must’ve been going through a tough breakup.
The Galloway Observatory sat atop the big hill behind two boys’ houses, and while it sounded grand, alas, it was not. White brick with arched windows and a small rotunda, it desperately needed a new paint job, and sections of brick were eroding.
No one spoke as we crossed the Circle toward the dorms. Biting my tongue, I felt like we were in the Hunger Games, creeping through the arena with all eyes trained on us. There were no Campo cars in sight, but dorm housemasters…they were different from neighborhood faculty members. They kept unusual hours since they both parented and policed students. I caught Manik glancing over at the darkened Bates House and knew he had the same thought. My mom and I’d lived there once upon a time, and now it was home to the Epstein-Foxes. My physics teacher was probably asleep, but I couldn’t help but imagine her and her fellow housemasters armed to the teeth with knives, ready to hunt us down and skin us alive.
Get a grip, I told myself, hugging my pullover closer. The breeze had picked up and I again wished I’d worn a sweatshirt.
A second later, Tag was behind me and draping something over my shoulders. The flannel he’d been wearing over his sweatshirt. “Right on schedule,” he said after popping the collar for the finishing touch.
My eyes prickled a little. Tag—he’d remembered how easily I became an icicle. When we were together, I’d always be running my hands up his sleeves to get warm. “Thank you,” I told him, slipping into the shirt. It felt like chestnuts roasting on an open fire.
We kept walking until we reached the base of the hill. A twisting and turning stone stairway had been carved into the side; it was wide with repurposed driftwood banisters, and tonight it felt like Mount Everest. Save for Tag’s iPhone flashlight, we were surrounded by darkness so there was seemingly no end in sight. “God, I’m so happy my parents never let me take astronomy,” Alex commented. “This climb is…”
He went silent. We’d reached the top of the hill, and while the observatory was dark, the cedar-shingled cottage just a few leaps and bounds away was not. It was entirely illuminated, as if expecting someone.
As if expecting us.
“Holy hell,” Alex breathed. “Was he supposed to be home?”
Nobody responded; we were too busy staring speechless at the house…Bunker Hill’s house. Several years ago, he’d informed Ames’s administration that he was going to have a cottage built on campus. “It’ll have a classroom too,” he’d told my mom. “I’m tired of teaching in the language building after all these years.”
“No, he was not,” Tag eventually answered as a man’s silhouette became visible through one of the front windows. “He’s supposed to be in New York. He’s been bragging for months about these opera tickets he scored—opening night of La bohème at the Met. Just the other day, I asked if his tux was ready, and he told me it was looking better than ever.”
“But he changed his mind,” I whispered. “I helped him sell the tickets on StubHub this afternoon because he’s sick. His seasonal allergies have evolved into a sinus infection.”
Alex groaned. “Hasn’t he heard of Zyrtec?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “If I’d known…”
If I’d known the Jester’s plan, I would’ve warned him.
“Well, we’re screwed,” Manik declared, pointing to the house as Tag rubbed his forehead. Bunker was now comfortably settled in an armchair with a glass of something and a book. “There’s no way he won’t see us.”
We stood there at a loss. “No, screw being screwed,” I said a few moments later, my stomach spinning. “We’re not. We can still do this.”
The boys gave me incredulous looks. “Come again?” Manik squeaked.
“We’ll go on with the Jester’s plan.” I swallowed hard. “Bunker…” I felt guilty for what I was about to say, but it was true. “That glass he’s holding isn’t filled with water. Even if he does see us—which he won’t, because it’s not like we’re going to ding-dong-ditch his door—he won’t remember it.”
Manik took an audible breath. “Should we all go?” he asked. “Even if he is drunk, four people on your front lawn is a lot to miss.”
“Agreed, so you guys wait here,” Tag said. “I’ll hide the clue.” Alex opened his mouth in protest, but Tag shook his head. “You need to stay. We can’t risk it.”
We can’t risk it.
I didn’t need to ask to know what that meant. Ames had a two-strike disciplinary policy, and Alex already had one tally in his file. He and some guys had been caught red-handed with a six-pack after a dance last year, so if he got caught tonight, he’d be making an early exit from campus.
“Plus, you take Russian, Alex,” I quickly said. “Not Latin.”
“Da.” He smirked. “I don’t study your dead language.”
Tag and I rolled our eyes. Latin students were teased on campus because we had all the basics of a dark academia novel down, including an enigmatic professor who taught a coterie of seven seniors in his own home. Bunker wrote on an old-fashioned blackboard while we sipped freshly brewed tea. “When’s the murder happening?” everyone always asked.
“No body, no crime,” we always answered.
I didn’t think Bunker would catch us, but if he did, my hope was he’d cut two of his students a break and at least give us a head start before calling Campo.
“Fine,” Alex said once I’d explained. He nodded. “I’ll chill with Manik.”
“Ready?” I asked Tag, already picturing us doing some sort of army crawl to stay in the shadows.
He hesitated. He didn’t want me to come.
And to be honest, I didn’t really want him to go. He had a strike too. A strike for something stupid. If anything, this clue should be my responsibility.
But that was out of the question.
I pretended to cough. “Keys.”
“Are you kidding?” Alex said as Tag sighed. “Don’t tell me Leda has a key to the gate too?”
“But of course.” I shrugged.
And then tugged Tag out of the trees.
EIGHT
After indeed army crawling our way to the observatory, Tag and I stood up and brushed ourselves off before swiping into the spooky building and climbing the spiral staircase that led up to the telescopes. Its outer wrought iron gate barred us from the balcony, so I shuffled through my mom’s collection of metal keys until I found the right one. But Tag hadn’t spoken since we’d left the trees, so I did what first came to mind once the gate creaked open. “Tag!” I whisper-yelled, then slapped his arm and took off down the long flagstone overlook.
I heard him let out a surprised laugh before hightailing it after me. My heart was still racing when we’d both made it to the end of the line and the last telescope in the row. “Lux,” Tag said. “Light” in Latin, so I moved close to shine my mom’s key chain flashlight into his backpack. He pulled out another unsealed envelope, marked with a hodgepodge of letters spelling out
“Where did you get all the magazines?” I asked when he handed me the envelope.
“Here and there,” he replied vaguely.
“Shall we do a dramatic reading?”
“Eh, I don’t think so,” he said as he retrieved a roll of duct tape from his backpack. “I’ve read these clues a hundred times.”
“But I haven’t,” I said.
“You don’t need to.” He tried reaching for the envelope. “They’re stupid.”
I held on tight. “I highly doubt that.”
Then I pulled out the envelope’s contents: another sturdy piece of cardstock, but this time adorned with red-and-black letters. I shook my head at Tag’s meticulous handiwork, cleared my throat, and began to read:
Let’s talk about sex, baby.
You know who’s doing it and you know where.
If you don’t hurry, Tag and Blair might even beat you there…
My voice was a whisper by the end, and afterward, I put the clue back in its envelope and licked the flap to seal it. “Lily, they’re stupid,” Tag repeated, but his voice was gravelly this time. “These riddles…” His throat bobbed. “They’re all ridiculous.”
I acted like everything was fine, like there wasn’t a chord being painfully plucked in my rib cage. “No, they’re not,” I said. “I actually think this one’s pretty funny.”
A beat of silence, and then, “Really?”
“Yeah.” I nodded and handed the envelope back to him. “I mean, I don’t understand why you’d put yourself in a clue, but…” I shrugged. “Whatever.”
Again, Tag didn’t immediately respond. All I heard was the sound of duct tape being unrolled. “It’s so people don’t guess I’m the Jester,” he said while securing the clue to the telescope’s underbelly. “Like Manik said earlier, I’m a front-runner.” He ripped the tape with his teeth. “I figured a joke about myself would throw everyone off.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. He was right. If I read this riddle as a bystander, I’d never guess Tag was the Jester. Blair either. It made too much fun of them.
When did he write this? I wondered. Before or after they broke up?
Then something else struck me. “Wait, throw everyone off?” I said. “You think Daniel is going to show Ames these clues? After he solves the mystery?”
Tag half shrugged. “Debatable.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Debatable?”
“Yes,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at me. His focus was still on the tape and telescope. “Part of me can see him keeping it professional and close to the vest, but another part…” He paused. “Well, I’ve never laughed at his jokes, but he does have a sense of humor—or at least a shred of one—so I can see him showing some people. His prom date, definitely.”
“Lucky her,” I replied offhandedly before remembering that I was Daniel’s prom date. There was way too much going on right now to remember anything except right now. I bit my pinkie nail, then said, “I’ll make sure my laugh is convincing.”
“Convincing?” Tag stuffed the duct tape roll back into his backpack before rising up to his full height. He cocked his head. “Didn’t you say this clue was funny?”
I pulled my baseball hat brim lower, which made him chuckle. “It is funny,” I admitted, because it was—objectively. Objectively speaking, Tag and Blair’s roller-coaster relationship was flipping hilarious. Ames would eat it up like Tag did his scrambled eggs with ketchup. “It’s funny, but not to…”
Me, I wanted to say. It’s not funny to me.
Even if they’d broken up for good, I hated seeing their names linked.
“Not to…?” Tag tried to tease out when I dropped off, but my stomach swished. I didn’t have the guts to tell him the truth.
And we didn’t have time. There wasn’t time for the truth. We had a mission to accomplish.
“Blair,” I mumbled. “It won’t be funny to Blair.”
Like I really cared.
Tag snorted. “Believe me,” he said, “Blair will not only survive, but she will thrive.” I raised my brim to see his brows comically furrow. “You truly haven’t noticed how much she likes her name in the papers?”
Blair Greenberg did love people buzzing about her, whether it was thanks to one of her bylines in the school newspaper or a TikTok. Or even better, school gossip. She lived for the publicity.
I couldn’t help but give Tag a tiny smirk.
He gave me a tiny smirk back. The exchange was so natural that I wasn’t surprised when his hand suddenly swiped my arm. “You’re it!” he said and went dashing down the balcony.
I followed as fast as I could, hoping to leave all thoughts of Blair Greenberg behind us.
Although I swore I saw her ghost ahead of me.
Tag beat me to the gate but chivalrously held it open before I took over, slamming it shut and then wincing at the wrought iron clanging against its frame. The echo made me fumble with my mom’s key. How was Daniel going to get through later? I had no idea but knew he would figure something out. He was Daniel Rivera. “His ID has full access,” Tag said, reading my mind. “The administration gives the president full campus access. As for the gate…” He eyed it. “I think he can climb it. I could climb it.”
“Oh, really?” I said airily but also kind of annoyed. “Care to demonstrate?”
It took him less than fifteen seconds.
I refused to acknowledge it. “We should hurry,” I said once his feet were firmly back on the ground. “The sculpture sanctuary isn’t exactly close.”
Ames’s sculpture sanctuary, where Tag and Blair were infamous for doing “yoga” early in the mornings and reconciling from fights on Saturday nights. Even the faculty was aware of their routine because they knew everything. “If it affects his performance in the pool,” Josh once said, “I’m going to—”
“You can’t knock his teeth out, Josh,” Headmaster Bickford had interrupted. She sighed dreamily. “The boy has such beautiful teeth.”
Yes, the many wonders of orthodontics! I’d thought. Tag had spent freshman year in braces but sophomore year searching for his retainer. Alex constantly hid it.
But somehow his smile had stayed straight.
Soon, Tag and I were spiraling back down to the observatory’s first floor. I led the way with Tag’s hand latching onto my flannel to better navigate the staircase. When his fingertips grazed the back of my neck, I wondered if he felt the goose bumps bursting on my skin. They were breathtaking like fireworks. That initial jolt of surprise, but then a dazzling crackle.
Together we raced across the worn black-and-white tile floor toward the door and exploded into the night. Still dazed from the twisting stairs and Tag’s touch, I stumbled over the building’s crumbling front steps. Tag stayed silent as I dramatically dropped every expletive in the book, but then he broke down laughing and said, “Man, I’ve missed your mouth.”
I took one step forward and then froze, going as still as a statue…but my mind did not turn to stone with it. Man, I’ve missed your mouth.
I told myself not to overanalyze; I knew what he meant. “You’ve got a real seafarer there, bud,” I remembered Josh joking when Tag and I’d started dating, because while I didn’t curse in front of the neighbors, I swore like a sailor at home.
Tag had always found it hilarious.
A deep ache settled in my stomach. Because I missed Tag’s voice too. I missed his confident cadence. I missed his soft whispers. I missed his easy laugh.
I also missed kissing him. Sad, maybe…but true. I missed his lips on mine and my skin. “Isn’t it a bit warm for a scarf, Lily?” Zoe and Pravika giggled two Septembers ago, and all I could do was smile at the ground. The picnic Tag and I’d packed the day before had gone untouched; we’d spread out the blanket on a far-flung stretch of campus but then ended up devouring each other instead of the food. “Best picnic ever,” Tag said while we’d walked back to main campus hand in hand. His hair was a mess and his Henley on backward, but he twirled me around in his arms before I could tell him. We both laughed when his stomach rumbled halfway home.
Man, I’ve missed your mouth.
I stood there, waiting for the tips of Tag’s ears to burn red and for him to backtrack and clarify what he meant. “We need to hurry,” I said when it didn’t dawn on him. “Alex and Manik are probably wondering where we are.”
Tag murmured something that sounded like, “I don’t think Alex is worried.”
