And then we laughed as I pressed down on the gas.
FIFTEEN
My pulse set the pace on our way to the boathouse. Instead of creeping along at a snail-like speed, I quickly turned onto the gravel driveway, soon flew over a speed bump. Our golf cart caught some serious air. “Iswearyou just took us to outer space,” Tag said through his laughter. The fruit snacks seemed to have done the trick. “We went to the moon; we went to Saturn…”
I smirked and took one hand off the wheel.You’re funny, I said by knocking my knuckles twice against his knee. Our old code again.
Tag shifted in his seat.
We couldn’t see it in the dark, but Ames’s boathouse was beautiful. “Traditional,” our school brochures liked to say, “with a modern twist.” Its faded cedar exterior was classic, but the glass statement wall that let you see the sailboats and surfboards systematically stored inside was brand new. A glass-sided overlook had also been recently added; there was no better view for a regatta.
Ocean waves swishing and swirling, I sucked in a deepbreath of salt air after parking the golf cart. Tonight’s wind really ripped this close to the water; I had to keep a hand clamped down on my baseball hat so it wasn’t suddenly stolen away and flung out to sea.
My mom didn’t have a key to the boathouse, but that was okay because Tag knew the garage door’s code. “Once a sailor, always a sailor,” he said, because Ames’s sailing coach never changed the keypad’s passcode. It was the same as when Tag had been on the team. Nothing creative, just the last year Ames had won Nationals…way too long ago. “It all comes down to coaching,” Josh once insisted, a comment my mom deciphered to meanhewanted to take over the team. “Josh, you don’t know the first thing about coaching sailing,” she said, to which he casually responded, “I can learn.”
Once the door had groaned to a stop and Tag and I crossed the threshold, overhead lights flickered on, courtesy of a motion sensor. Surfboard racks lined the walls and various victory flags hung from the ceiling.NATIONAL CHAMPIONS 2010was the most prominent, but its colors were beginning to fade.
“Hello, old friend,” Tag said, and I turned to see him by one of the sailboats. He held his duct tape and the next clue but was lovingly looking at the boat. I immediately knew it was the one he used to sail with Daniel, the one Daniel now sailed with my fellow fac brat Anthony DeLuca. Even though swimming was more important, I’d never quite understood why Tag had given up sailing. “This won’t hurt, I promise.”
“Wait,” I said as he dropped into a crouch. It looked like he was going to tape the clue inside the hull. “I want to read the riddle.”
“Ah,” he replied. “I already licked the envelope.”
“Then unlick it,” I said, moving toward him. There was no way I was missing a clue. Because while their scansion would probably make a poet laureate cry, they were perfect for the prank’s scavenger hunt. Jesters made fun of their kingdoms.
Ames was a kingdom of sorts.
Tag stilled when I held out my hand for the envelope. After a few beats, he stiffly handed it over, but the serious expression on his face…
My stomach sank. “You sealed this on purpose,” I guessed. “Whatever’s in here…” I sighed. “You don’t want me reading it. Just like you didn’t want me reading the clue about you and Blair.”
Let’s talk about sex, baby, echoed in my mind.
Tag didn’t correct me. “Of course you can read it” was all he said. So without thinking twice, I did. The envelope’s seal was still damp from Tag’s saliva, and I had to finesse the flap back open, taking care so it wouldn’t tear. The cardstock was covered in its familiar jumble of letters, and I couldn’t read the clue fast enough:
Roses are red,
The ocean is blue,
Go to the Hoppers’ mailbox…
Where clue six waits for you!
“Oh my god…” I said, shock shooting up my spine. “Whatisthis?”
Tag didn’t say anything. I waited for him to again reassure me that the riddle was ridiculous—thatallthe riddles were ridiculous—but he didn’t.
Blood thumped through my ears. “What is this, Tag?” I repeated sharply. “What the hell kind of clue is this? Some shitty Valentine?”
He rose from his crouch. “Lily—”
“You said this prank wasn’t a dig against Daniel,” I cut him off before he could begin. “But it is—ittotallyis!” I gestured to the sailboat. “This, for example. Every team member and clue location is connected to him.”
“Yes,” Tag said simply.
“What?” I blinked, having expected the Jester to put up more of an argument.
“This prank revolves around Rivera’s ties to Ames,” he continued. “You called me on it while we were moving the Almanacs.” His voice was level. “None of this is new information, and I maintain that if Alex were president, we would be hiding a clue in the commentator’s box in the ice rink right now.”
