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’dneverguess 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, throweveryoneoff?” 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 thatIwas Daniel’s prom date. There was way too much goingon right now to remember anything exceptright 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. “Itisfunny,” 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.
