“You forget where breakfast room is, Miss Tenley?”
Tenley started at the sound of Sahara’s voice. The maid was balancing a tray of croissants and fruit on her hip as she glowered down at Tenley.
“Shhh.” Tenley pressed a finger to her lips, fixing Sahara with her most withering stare. “I was just on my way out,” she whispered. “Tell my mom I was in a rush to get to school.”
Sahara didn’t bother masking her disgust as she bustled into the dining room. Tenley waited a beat, smoothing down the striped maxi dress she was wearing under a black cardigan. As soon as she heard Sahara start speaking, she slipped quietly out of the house.
An hour’s drive later, she was walking through the stained-glass doors of Danford’s main building. The lobby was filled with dark mahogany wood and had a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The left wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a rolling ladder propped up against them. Tenley skimmed over some of the leather-bound titles. There was everything from The Great Gatsby to The Encyclopedia of Mosquitoes. A framed sign sat on one of the shelves, declaring it Danford’s lending library. TAKE A BOOK, LEAVE A BOOK!
“Are you a visitor?” Tenley turned around to find a skinny, pimply-faced guy watching her from behind the front desk. He was clearly a student volunteer, a freshman most likely. “Because all visitors must sign in.” He said it snootily, as if he wasn’t sure he deemed Tenley worthy of visiting his precious school. Normally, she would have been quick to tear into him with a retort, but she forced herself to hold back. She needed his help if she was going to find Joey.
She smiled prettily as she walked over to the desk. The boy was wearing a khaki-and-blazer uniform, and he had a name tag pinned to his lapel. “Hi, Jeffery,” she said. She leaned against the desk, looking up at him through her lashes. “I was hoping you could help me.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I’m here to surprise this guy I have a crush on.” It was the story she’d come up with on her drive into the city. “I decided it was finally time to tell him how I feel. Seize the day, you know?” She beamed up at him. “Could you just tell me his room number? His name’s Joey Bakersfield.”
“I’m not supposed to do that,” Jeffery said. But there was a hesitancy to his voice, and by the way he was shifting from foot to foot, she could tell he wasn’t used to being this close to the female of the species.
“Oh.” She infused her voice with disappointment. “Are you sure you can’t make an exception? Just this once?” She leaned even closer, until she was practically whispering in his ear. “I swear I won’t tell anyone.”
Jeffery’s eyes darted uneasily around the empty lobby.
“It would really make my day,” she continued. She grabbed his hand in a last-ditch effort. “Please?”
Jeffery’s cheeks blushed bright red. “A-all right,” he stammered. “As long as you don’t tell anyone it was me.”
Tenley pressed a finger to her lips for the second time that morning. “Not a soul.” She waited as Jeffery made several clicks with the mouse.
“Make a left out of the exit and walk three buildings down,” he whispered. “Dorm Saturn, room 3C. Use code 7777 to enter.” He cleared his throat, looking relieved that that was over. “And make sure no teachers see you! It’s one of the male dorms, and we have very strict dorm visiting hours here. You’ll stand out, being, you know…” His eyes darted over her, making his skin turn an unflattering shade of strawberry red. “… a girl,” he finished falteringly.
“I’ll be invisible,” Tenley promised.
Outside, the buildings were swathed in ivy, and a brick path wound between them. A sign proclaimed Danford OUT OF THIS WORLD! and she soon understood why. The plaque on the first dorm declared it Dorm Mars, the second, Dorm Jupiter. She stopped in front of Dorm Saturn. It was an old stone building layered with ivy and speckled with maroon-and-white signs in almost every window. DANFORD ROBOTICS! DANFORD WRESTLING! DANFORD DANCERS! DANFORD GOES GREEN! Tenley smirked. Apparently Danford accepted all types—as long as they had school spirit.
Her smirk faded as she typed the code into the keypad and stepped into the building. The nerves she’d been fighting the whole trip multiplied instantly: a flock of birds attacking her insides. It wasn’t as if this was the first sketchy thing she’d ever done, she reminded herself. She’d certainly done worse, often in the name of a pageant win. But it had never involved a boy she’d falsely—strongly—accused of being a deranged stalker.
She tried to distract herself as she climbed the stairs to the third floor, admiring the carved wooden banister and oil painting portraits that lined the walls. Engraved into each step was an elaborate crest, featuring a large D. This place made Winslow look almost shabby.
The distractions didn’t help as she arrived on Joey’s floor. She remembered how desperate she’d been the last time she’d seen him. She’d accused him point-blank of being a criminal. She knew that dropping the charges couldn’t make up for what they’d put him through. “Gabby Douglas, London,” she murmured under her breath. “Nastia Liukin, Beijing.” She was in the middle of Carly Patterson, Athens, when a noise from behind startled her.
Footsteps.
They were rounding the corner, brisk and clipping. “I expect to see your essay by the end of the day, Mr. Seabourne!” a voice rang out. An adult, teacher’s voice.
She spun frantically around, looking for a hiding spot. Her eyes fell on a bathroom nearby. BOYS, the sign read. Of course it did; this whole dorm was one big BOYS sign. The footsteps drew closer. She had two options: possible naked boys versus definite teacher run-in. She lunged for the door. Naked boys she could handle.
She pulled the door shut behind her just in time. She sagged against it, breathing hard as she listened to the teacher’s footsteps click-clack their way toward the stairwell.
“I think I just stepped into my Ultimate Bathroom Fantasy.”
At the sound of a male voice, Tenley whipped around with a yelp. A short, freckly guy was standing next to the showers on the other end of the bathroom, nothing but a towel wrapped around him. He had a mop of bright red hair on his head and a thin line of red hair running down his bare chest. He also had a very pleased grin on his face.
Tenley quickly composed herself. “Here’s some friendly advice,” she said after a beat. She kept her voice frostily matter-of-fact. “If you go around telling girls you have a ‘bathroom fantasy,’ you’re never going to have anything but fantasies.”
She spun on her heels without waiting for a response and stalked out of the bathroom. Before she could get waylaid again, she hurried over to Joey’s room and knocked on the door.
No answer.
She tried again, listening hard. The door stayed closed. Inside the room, nothing stirred. Either Joey was still sleeping or he wasn’t there. Slowly, she twisted the handle. It was unlocked. She glanced furtively over her shoulder, then pushed the door open before she could change her mind.
The room was empty. It was also tiny, with a single twin bed against one wall and a doll-size desk and dresser against the other. The bed was swathed in an ugly plaid blanket, and on the wall were several of Joey’s drawings, which he’d clearly taped up in a weak attempt at decorating. The desk was OCD-esque clean, with just a single framed photo sitting on it. In the photo, Joey and his mom were standing with their arms around each other on Great Harbor Beach.
Tenley wandered around, unable to keep from admiring Joey’s drawings. They were actually kind of amazing: intricate illustrations of everything from old, gnarled trees, to Echo Bay tourist sites. She paused by one hanging next to the window. In it, a pretty girl was walking her dog, her long blond hair stirring in the breeze. Caitlin. Tenley recognized the drawing immediately. It was a page from the Winslow comic book Joey had been drawing, the one that had been so eerily focused on Caitlin. She leaned in, studying the picture. In it, Caitlin had her head tilted toward her dog, a tiny smile tugging on her lips. She looked relaxed, happy. The old Caitlin, unencumbered by dares and pills.
“Having a drawing of someone is not stalking, you know.”
Tenley whipped around. Joey was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed against his chest. He looked different from a month ago. His long, sandy-blond hair had been cropped close, making it impossible for him to hide his face, and he’d swapped his ever-present hoodie for Danford’s khaki-and-blazer uniform. It was strange to see him like that. Without all the freak-boy trappings, he was almost cute.
“W-what are you doing here?” he stammered.
She took a deep breath, mustering up her friendliest voice. “Your door was unlocked,” she said. “I saw your drawings and just couldn’t resist. They’re… amazing.” She glanced back at the page on the wall. The image was so lifelike that she almost expected Caitlin to lift her head and smile. She tore her eyes away. “You really captured Caitlin.”
Joey gave her a guarded look. “Is this a setup?” He glanced sharply over his shoulder. “Are the cops about to swoop in on me again?”