I shuffled various things as I dug my way to the very back to confirm that we indeed had no Gatorade, which probably would’ve been expired by now. We’d only ever bought it for Tag.
Two minutes later, I crawled back out the doggie door to find Tag sweating bullets. “Here,” I whispered, offering him both an unopened jug of Ocean Spray’s ruby red grapefruit blend and a sandwich-ready pretzel bun. “Take your pick.”
As an incentive, I also produced a bottle of ketchup andsquirted it all over the pretzel roll. A glop even dripped onto my thigh. “You know me,” Tag said with a bemused tilt of his head.
“Yes, I do,” I deadpanned. “Quite well, it seems.” I handed him the ketchup-drenched bread. “Now eat, please.”
Tag didn’t argue. He devoured the roll in only a few bites, then licked the excess ketchup from his fingertips. My gut twisted, half sick to my stomach but also half lovesick. Even after four years, I was still completely and utterly unable to fathom his ketchup obsession, yet without it, he wouldn’t be his ridiculous self.
“You ready to go?” I asked a couple minutes later, after he’d taken a sip of juice to wash down the bread and I’d stuffed a Capri Sun in his heavy backpack. Just in case.
Tag opened his mouth, but instead of his voice, I heard a distinctmeow. “Was that a cat?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced around the dark yard. “That sounded like a cat.”
“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled as a familiar ginger cat leapt up on the stoop. His hazel eyes were deceivingly innocent in the dusk-to-dawn light’s glow. “Good evening, Mr. Goodfellow,” I said, then turned to Tag. “Robin here is the neighborhood stray, but he favors our house because my mom pampers him.”
“Josh mustlovethat,” Tag said before coaxing the cat over to the tree. It took a moment, but after I blinked a few times, the cat let him pet his head. “Pleased to meet you, Puck.”
Robin Goodfellow, or “Puck,” was the mischievous sprite from William Shakespeare’sA Midsummer Night’s Dream. Ithad taken my mom all of three visits to christen him. “Leda, I love you,” Josh had said. “You know I love you and everything about you, but I can’t condone this arrangement. First you feed him, then you continue to feed him as well asnamehim…” He groaned. “Soon he’s going to think he lives here!”
Josh wasn’t fond of cats.
“Okay, I’m good,” I heard Tag say while I tracked Puck. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him stand up and stretch. “One of us should text Alex we’re on our way.”
I nodded but then saw Tag unscrew the grapefruit juice’s plastic cap and take two full-onglugs. “Shouldn’t you stop?” I asked him. “Won’t it be too much?”
From what Tag had told me about his diabetes, I’d brought out the bread and juice as an either/or option. Both were high in carbohydrates to raise his blood sugar, but together they might send ittoohigh.
“Lily, it’s cool,” he said as I felt a twinge in my chest. “Believe me, I’m fine. I feel better—way better than earlier.” He smiled at me. “You ready?”
SEVENTEEN
Ames’s Admissions building was in the school’s academic village, so Tag and I took deep breaths before setting off through my neighborhood. It was the fastest route to main campus, but while I’d felt safe and secure when making my dash to meet the Jester at midnight, I now felt less confident. Even though every house was asleep, the moon still gleamed, and I’d pulled my baseball hat low.
It might’ve had to do with Puck the cat following us.
“Pleasego,” I begged him. “Go to the DeLucas’ house. I know you hate their pool, but remember that nice swing set they have? Mrs. DeLuca has sent photos of you on the slide!”
“He might smell Stevie on me,” Tag said when he stayed on our tail. “She kept winding herself through my legs before I left tonight.”
“Or he might just like you,” I grumbled.
Tag chuckled. “Maybe Alex and I can take him off the faculty’s hands.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, pressing closer to him. We werewalking with our arms tightly hooked together, as if expecting to be pried apart any second. It went unsaid that we were both on edge about returning to campus, with its roaming Campo cars and shining dorm lights. I thought of Pravika and her habit of rising before the sun to finish assignments. Had her alarm gone off yet?
And what about Daniel and Manik and their freshmen? Where were they? For all we knew, Josh could now be involved.
“Are you sure we shouldn’t text Manik?” I asked Tag. “To see what’s happening there?”
“Positive,” he answered as we rounded a bend in the road. “It would be unwise to distract him from his imperative search-and-rescue mission.” He paused. “Not to mention very unfair to steal his attention back to our little prank.”
I bumped his shoulder with mine. Goofy Tag was coming out to play, which made me smile. It was reassuring that he hadn’t gone overboard with the juice, that he really was fine. “Do you regret tapping him?” I said suddenly. “Manik?”
“No way,” Tag replied. “I meant what I said back at King’s Court. He put his heart, soul, and every last bit of hissanityinto being editor…he deserves to know the Almanacs are safe. I don’t want him to waste one second worrying.”
Our phones buzzed with a new text.I’m home, Zoe had messaged.Alex helped me into bed before going back downstairs and grabbing ice packs from the kitchen’s freezer. He’s now wrapping my mashed ankle in an ACE bandage.
RICE, baby, Alex chimed in.Rest, ice, compression, and elevation!
