Sam stayed quiet, as her fingers lightly traced each letter in the book’s title.
“You…,” I continued, “you lead with empathy. With strategy. Like last week, when Gwen was heartbroken because the guy she liked bonded someone else. You were up all night with her, remember? Just listening while she cried and told the same lovesick stories over and over again. You didn’t roll your eyes. You didn’t rush her. You just stayed. You wanted to understand. That’s strength too.”
Sam nodded slowly, thoughtfully.
“That’s why this book seemed like a no-brainer gift for you,” I continued. “You like to know things, understand people, their motives. How everything fits together.”
She didn’t say anything at first, just held the book to her chest. Finally a quiet, “thank you,” had slipped out with a lift in her voice as if she was surprised to find herself in this position. Thankingmeof all people.
I know she was being sincere, because I’ve seen that book in her backpack. It’s got dog-eared pages now with annotations highlighted in pink. I thought maybe she’d want to discuss it with me, but Sam’s been silent. I have no idea if she’sdrawn the connection between that fictional dystopia and the one she actually lives in.
Now, she tells me, “We need to go and get those notes.”
“How?” I ask. “It’s only three o’clock. We aren’t allowed in Ashford House yet.”
Sam’s lips curve into a mischievous grin. “If they don’t catch us, they’ll never know we were there.” She grabs my wrist and tugs me to my feet. “Come on, Laurel. We’ll use the tunnel.”
My pulse kicks. This feels less like studying and more like sneaking behind enemy lines. The rule-following part of me says I should stop her, be the voice of reason, but there’s another part of me, reckless and curious, that wants to see. Maybe even wants to break some rules. Everything here is so structured. Same schedule. Same routine. Shaking things up, just a little, sounds kind of thrilling.
“I’ve heard about the tunnels, but I’ve never actually seen them,” I admit as we slip out of the library and down the back hallway.
“They’re as old as the houses,” Sam says, leading me past the double staircase. “They were originally used to move the girls,” she adds, “so no one could see.”
I blink. “You mean like for safety? Fire drills or something?”
She shoots me a look like I’m the dumbest person alive. “So the women could go to their bonded men at night. Back then it would’ve been scandalous. Unmarried women and men alone, no chaperone.” A pause. “Thatwastwo hundred years ago, remember.”
Oh. Right.
It hits me then, how long all this has been going on. The Order. Its hold over this town, these people.Jeez. Talk about multigenerational trauma.
Sam leads me into the sisters’ dining hall. It’s nothing like the one at Ashford House. That one’s all stone and stained glass and shadows. This one’s the opposite, with clean, white-paneled walls, bright sunlight streaming through tall windows, and French doors that open to the backyard the sorority shares with the fraternity. I catch a glimpse of the pool, the tidy lawn, and, beyond that, thecornfield.
The corn stalks are taller than me. Overgrown and wild. Now that it’s fall, their green has faded to a brittle yellow, the leaves curling at the edges. They rise in a solid, tangled wall, rustling gently in the wind.
“Does anyone ever harvest that corn?” I ask, mostly to fill the silence. “It looks ready.”
Sam glances that way, her voice calm. “It’ll stay up for another two weeks, until Halloween. Then they cut it into a corn maze for the big party we have.” She doesn’t miss a beat. “That’s where all the bodies are buried.”
I laugh, because what else do you do with a line like that? “Right. Creepy, Sam.”
She shrugs. “It’s tradition.”
Then she perks up, her voice brightening. “Did Carrson tell you about the theme we picked for the party?”
“Heaven and Hell, right? Everyone’s supposed to wear white, black, or red.” I let my hands swing at my sides as we walk. I’m honestly looking forward to the end of the fall quarter, no classes, no exams. Just one glorious week of pretending I have my life together and going to this infamous Halloween party Carrson keeps hinting at. Apparently even people from town show up. It’s a whole thing.
“That’s right. Everyone dresses up like angels, devils, demons, monsters. I’m going as a succubus,” Sam says proudly, grinning. “Already have my costume. It’s red, skimpy, and covered in sequins. Super slutty.”
I laugh. “As it should be. Halloween is the one day a year we get to channel our inner chaos gremlins in platform heels and extra-thick eyeliner.”
“Oh my god,exactly!” she agrees. She suddenly veers toward the far wall and presses her palm against one of the panels. It looks just like all the others, until it swings open.
“Oh, wow,” I breathe, surprised. Then I giggle. “This is so Scooby-Doo.”
“What?” Sam frowns.
“Nothing. Forget it.”
