“Entirely our fault,” Tag said back, “but I hate this too.”
More silence.
“Have you talked to Daniel?” he ventured. “Told him about having to abort prom?”
I shook my head. “I’m guessing he already knows it’s no longer happening, though, thanks to whatPeoplemagazine has been saying about us.”
He avoided my eyes, and I too looked away to silently contemplate our situation. We needed to figure out how to leave this building. It would make or break the prank.
“Manik said he and Daniel are meeting in the yearbook office around lunchtime,” I said.
“Okay, good.” Tag nodded. “Manik plans to be late, right? So Rivera’s alone when he discovers they’ve disappeared?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Jester.”
“I’m mulling over when to deliver the first clue,” Tag said, still half in his head. “It depends on how this first part plays out, then the envelope will hit his mailbox.”
“We also need to rethink our alibis,” I said, making eye contact with him again. His cloudy gray irises had returned to their natural green. My pulse quickened. “As criminally evil as those two clues about us are, they’re looking a little flimsy now that everyone knows we snuck out. Because when it gets out that the Almanacs are missing…they’ll wonder…” I winced. “We should assess our options.”
Tag gave me a flatlined, almostboredlook. “Assess our options?”
I suddenly felt the urge to shove him, so I did. He was goofing around, pushing my buttons, and I fell for it every time. “Come on!” I exclaimed when he grinned. “Options, Tag!”
“There are no options, Hopscotch,” he said lightly. “There is anoption.”
My stomach somersaulted. Yes, there was, and I knew it was agonizingly waiting for us. Ames was under the impression that Tag and I had been caught hooking up, and we had the chance to run with it. Everyone, including old Bunker Hill, thought we had gotten back together.
How could I be the Jester?Tag would say if questioned.I was with Lily.
And I was with Tag, I’d tell others.How could I have known about the Almanacs?
I’d never been able to pretend with Tag; it had always been all or nothing with him. But for the Jester’s sake, I knew I had to try, no matter how treacherous it already felt and how painful it would be in the end. He might not bleed, but I would.
“Lily.” Tag held out his hand. “Do you trust me?”
TWENTY-TWO
Hand in hand, Tag and I sprinted up the hillside’s curving stone staircase. Consultation had ended, and there were only a few minutes before third period, so not many students had seen us leave Admissions. There had been a few whistles as we crossed the Circle together, along with an over-the-top catcall, but I was pretty sure that had been Alex on his way to Russian.
Even though we already knew our fates, it felt like we were holding on to each other for dear life. “You’re cutting off my circulation,” I said as we took the stairs two at a time.
“You’re cutting off mine too,” Tag replied.
Neither of us loosened our grip.
Because ofallthe classes on our schedules, Tag and I had Latin.Latin!It was so painfully farcical that I almost wanted to laugh.
I remembered the bright beam of Bunker’s flashlight last night, the way it had captured Tag and me after we’d hidden the Jester’s second clue. We had wanted to avoid his cottage at all costs, even army crawling across the grass to stay out of sight!
Yet now here we were, racing for his front door. I gently unwound my fingers from Tag’s once we reached the porch. They were so tangled together that it felt like undoing one of those complicated sailing knots Tag had been so good at tying. “Lily—” he started but was interrupted by our phones pinging.
I sighed and pulled out my iPhone to silence it. Bunker always confiscated phones at the beginning of class, storing them in a lacquered cigar humidor, but if one still went off, he held it hostage for the rest of the day.
The Jester’s group chat, I figured until I tapped and saw the notification—an email from Ames’s student council president. My stomach swished. “Tag,” I breathed.
He didn’t respond, already skimming his screen.
I glanced down to read mine too.
