She tossed her hair over her shoulder, then spun around and stalked away. As her footsteps pounded down the hall, I considered going after her for about two and a half seconds. She only thought she wanted to come. If she’d known what was going on, she would have run the other way.
When I could no longer hear her footsteps, I returned my beanie to my head and slid the door open a crack. Luckily, the coast was clear, so after adjusting my sketchbook (which was part valuable tool, part security blanket), I headed down the hall behind her.
When I got to the boys’ rooms, I stopped long enough to check the time. According to my phone, it was 9:30 on the nose, but Graham was still nowhere in sight. I pressed my lips into a line and stuffed my phone back in my pocket. Leave it to a math nerd not to take a death threat seriously.
I was still fuming to myself when Cabin Gamma’s door jerked open and a pair of chalk-white hands dragged me into the room. I instantly dropped into a squat, grasping for a foil that wasn’t there, but it was only Graham—not to mention Munch, Marshane, and the boy with the pierced ears.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, then motioned toward the other math nerds. “And what are they doing here?”
At least Graham had the decency to blush. “Sorry about the snatch-and-grab,” he said. “We’ve been monitoring the hall, and it sounds like someone just went by. We didn’t want them to catch us.”
“That still doesn’t explain what they’re doing here,” I hissed.
Marshane grinned. “Oh, that’s easy,” he replied, folding his arms across his chest. “You’re not the only one who found a clue.”
I stiffened. “Where’d you find it?”
The boy with the pierced ears, who was still guarding the door, glared at me over his shoulder. “Do you really want to talk about it here?”
I swallowed, hard. “You’re right.” One of the counselors could come along and hear my voice at any moment. “All right, then, let’s get going.”
“And where are we going?” he asked.
“To the girls’ bathroom,” I replied.
The boy with the pierced ears stopped.
“We can’t go in there,” Graham said.
“Sure we can,” Marshane replied. “We just stick our arms out and push.”
Graham’s nostrils shriveled into slits. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“You two sound like old hens,” I said. “What are you, brothers or something?”
I’d meant it as a joke, but that wasn’t how Graham took it.
“We’re not brothers,” he replied. “But we go to the same school, so we … bump into one another.”
I sent Munch a sideways glance. “Do you guys know each other, too?”
The boy with the pierced ears shook his head at the same time Munch replied, “I don’t know any of these guys—or any of the girls, either.”
At least that settled that. I flicked my thumb over my shoulder. “Well, are you coming or not?” When they didn’t respond, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “It’s not like the girls’ bathroom is the final destination. Even I’m not dumb enough to hold a super-secret meeting in a room that Brooklyn uses.”
Graham stuck both hands on his hips. “What is the final destination?”
I couldn’t help but smile smugly. “It’s right out there,” I said, pointing at their sliding door.
Skeptically, they huddled around it and squinted into the darkness. Though the rain had (finally) stopped, the glass was streaked with water stains, so it was hard to tell what you were looking at. But when I pointed out the storage room—and its still-open window—they drew a collective breath.
“It’s the most secret place around,” I said. “No one ever goes down there, and the door’s locked from the inside. But there’s a handy-dandy ledge between the girls’ bathroom and that storage room. It’s like walking on a sidewalk.”
The boy with the pierced ears made a face. “A sidewalk twelve feet in the air.”
I clapped him on the back. “Hey, no one said you had to come.”
Graham shoved open the sliding door. “Forget the girls’ bathroom.” He hopped out onto the balcony. “We can catch the ledge from here.”
“But won’t we have to sneak past Director Verity’s room?” the boy with the pierced ears asked.
Graham motioned toward the door. “Well, then, go ahead and sneak into the girls’ bathroom, Oliver.”
At least that sealed the deal. One by one, the math nerds tiptoed out onto the balcony. Maybe there was something to be said for peer pressure after all.
“Do exactly as I do,” I said as I climbed over the railing. “And don’t get too spread out. But don’t clump so close together you take the rest of us down with you if you start to slip.”
Shudders rippled through their shoulders, but they didn’t try to bail. I had to give them props for that. After wiping off my hands, I transferred over to the ledge and inched my way along the wall, giving the math nerds ample room to make the transfer behind me. They climbed over the railing using a variety of techniques, Graham and Munch by straddling it, Oliver by squeezing through the widest part, and Marshane by vaulting over it as nimbly as a cat.
“Show-off,” I muttered through clenched teeth, returning my attention to the ledge. The stretch between the balconies wasn’t hard to navigate, but when I got to the next balcony, I raised a hand to halt the others. Candlelight was dancing out onto the balcony, spotlighting the silhouette of either Ms. Gutierrez or Director Verity. At least the blinds were closed, but if we crossed her balcony, she might be able to hear us.
I was still working out this problem when Graham tapped me on the shoulder. He pointed at the storage room, then pointed at the ground and mouthed, Climb down here instead?
I opened my mouth to answer, then snapped it shut again. I could think of several reasons not to climb down at this spot, but most of them amounted to, Because it wasn’t my idea. Grudgingly, I mouthed back, Fine, then got down on my hands and knees and lowered myself over the edge.
This time, I landed in one of the flower beds, which was less muddy but more painful, since they were lined with chunks of tree bark. After dusting off the larger bits, I glanced up at the ledge to see how the others were doing. Two pairs of skinny legs were already dangling over the edge, and before I could tell them to take it slow, a third pair of legs appeared.
We were still one math nerd short.
I stepped back, and there was Munch. He was still standing on the ledge, his shoulders wedged against the wall. If he was trying to impersonate a statue, he was doing a great job.
I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Hey, Munch!” I whispered. When he didn’t budge, I tried again: “Listen, you don’t have to come with us, but you can’t stay on that ledge. Just go back the way you came!”
I barely had a chance to finish before a flashlight flickered on in Cabin Gamma’s nearby window. Now he was hemmed in on both sides.
Graham landed in a heap of arms and legs, but he popped back up at once. “You can do it, Munch. We’ll catch you.”
Marshane landed next to Graham. “Are you crazy?” he replied as he got back to his feet. “How are we gonna catch him?”
Graham glared at Marshane. “Well, we can’t just leave him up there.”
I stepped between Graham and Marshane as Oliver hit the ground. “You two need to shut up.” Then I set my sights on Munch. “Listen, Munch, we’ll talk you through it. All you have to do is get down on your hands and knees, then ease yourself over the edge. Once your arms are fully extended, it’s only, like, a three-foot drop.”
This was a bald-faced lie—it was more like a four-foot drop, and that was only if you were as tall as I was—but that didn’t seem worth mentioning.
I was looking for a way to climb back up when Munch finally made a move. He popped something in his mouth—it looked like a fun-size Snickers—and squeezed his wide eyes shut. I was trying to decide if he was savoring the candy or sendin
g up a last-minute prayer when a flicker of movement caught my eye. The silhouette was getting bigger.
Graham and Marshane had noticed, too. “It’s now or never,” Graham whispered at the same time Marshane said, “You’re running out of time, Fun Size.”
I flicked Marshane in the ear. “Don’t pay any attention to them, Munch. You’ve got to get down on all fours, then find something to hold on to.”
He waited for an extra second, then got down on his hands and knees. I couldn’t help but be relieved.
“Now you have to lower yourself down,” I said. “Then you just have to let go.”
“I just have to let go?” Munch squeaked.
“We’ll catch you, won’t we, Graham?” When Graham didn’t answer, I elbowed him. “Won’t we?”
Graham licked his lips. “Uh-huh.”
While Munch mustered his courage, my eyes flickered back and forth between the outline in the window, which was fumbling with the drapes, and Munch’s quaking legs, which were still dangling from the ledge. A crinkly wrapper floated down, glinting silver in the moonlight. If he didn’t speed this up, we were going to get caught.
“Go now,” I said through gritted teeth. “Munch, you have to go right now!”
As soon as I got the last word out, Munch let go of the ledge. Graham and I scrambled to catch him, but Marshane was in the way. Munch landed right on top of him; he couldn’t have hit him any better if Marshane had had a bull’s-eye painted on top of his head.
They went down in a clump of arms and legs and fun-size wrappers. Marshane started to howl, but I clapped a hand over his mouth. The sliding door was sliding.
I seized Munch’s sleeve and dragged him and Marshane underneath the ledge. Luckily, Graham and Oliver had the good sense to follow us. One second passed, then two, then ten, and it was all that I could do not to make a single sound. Finally, the sliding door slammed shut, and the drapes went still again.
I released a held-in breath and let go of Munch’s sleeve. Oliver fell, gasping. A bead of sweat rolled down my nose and dripped into the flower bed.
Graham massaged his chest. “Why are we doing this again?”
“To stop a killer,” I said darkly.
Munch struggled to sit up. “Oh, is that what we’ve been doing?”
“Funny,” Marshane said, “I thought we’ve been clobbering each other.”
I rubbed the sweat out of my eyes. “Come on,” I said tiredly as I led them toward the storage room.
After everything we’d just been through, getting past the window was a breeze. While Oliver double-checked the lock—he certainly was a skittish one—Graham and I rearranged the boxes to create a makeshift fort. When I flicked my flashlight on, the math nerds huddled around it like a roaring campfire.
“I’m gonna give it to you straight,” I said once everyone was settled. “What I’m about to say could be dangerous and maybe even deadly, so if you’d rather bow out now, no one will think any less of you.”
This was another bald-faced lie—I’d definitely think less of them if they scuttled out that window with their tails between their legs—but if it would get rid of a few of them, I was prepared to sing and dance. Unfortunately, no one moved. Their faces gleamed in the flashlight like perfectly polished coins, some with excitement, some with fear. Oliver looked like he might barf (and since we’d just had lasagna, it wasn’t going to be a pretty sight), but he managed not to blow.
I drew a deep breath, then pulled the note out of my pocket. “If you have one of the clues, now’s the time to get it out.”
The math nerds hesitated, but when I smoothed out my note and set it next to the flashlight, they slowly pulled out theirs. Except Graham and Oliver were the only ones with clues.
I slugged Marshane in the shoulder. “I thought you said you guys had clues!”
“Oliver does,” Marshane replied. “I was with him when he found it. And Munch was with Graham when he found us.”
I knotted my arms across my waist. They weren’t supposed to be involved. More math nerds equaled more targets.
Graham held up his hands. “What was I supposed to tell them?”
“You weren’t supposed to tell them anything.” I shone the flashlight at my note. “Did you think this was a game?”
The math nerds leaned over the note, their wide eyes flicking back and forth as they rushed to take it in.
“What’s a manticore?” Munch asked before they were even halfway through.
“A beast,” Oliver said. “Lion’s body, scorpion’s tail. Definitely not a household pet.”
Munch shuddered. “What’s a sphinx?”
“Lion’s body, human’s face.”
Marshane threw up his arms. “Will you at least let us finish reading before we have to do vocabulary?”
Munch let them finish reading.
Graham must have finished first, because he was the first one to lean back and scratch the back of his head. “Oh, man, that’s …”
“Messed up,” Marshane finished.
I nodded ruefully. Graham set the two clues side by side:
Satyr and Minotaur share a cabin with two other monsters.
Siren has a nickname.
Neither said much on its own, and they didn’t say a lot when they were smooshed together, either. But I didn’t want to say that. What if I was missing something?
Thankfully, Graham said it for me: “If there’s an answer, I don’t see it.”
“Me neither,” Munch admitted.
“Me neither,” I admitted, too.
Oliver took a step back. “Maybe there isn’t an answer because there isn’t a problem.” When we just stood there gaping, he added not-so-patiently, “Maybe they’re faking us out.”
My thoughts instantly leaped to the Fenimore Forger, who also had a nasty habit of faking naive people out. But before I could get more worked up than I already was, Marshane batted that away.
“Or maybe we just need more clues.”
“We’ll keep an eye out,” Graham replied.
“No, I’ll keep an eye out.” I pointed a thumb at my chest. “I was the one who found the note, so I’m the one who should solve it.”
Marshane rolled his eyes. “Stop trying to sacrifice yourself. The killer probably knows we found these clues, so we’re in as deep as you are.”
I opened my mouth to answer, then snapped it shut again. Marshane was right. Whether I wanted their help or not, they were in as deep as I was. The killer had made certain of that.
CHAPTER 9
After I jotted down the clues and a few ideas in my sketchbook, we left the storage room in shifts, first Graham, then Marshane, then Munch and Oliver, then me. Graham had tried to get me to go first—he’d even called me a lady—but I wanted to make sure we left everything exactly as we’d found it. After rearranging the boxes and double-checking the window, I returned my flashlight to my pocket and eased the door shut on my heels. I braced myself for impact as I tiptoed up the hall, but the common room was empty. The mess hall was empty, too.
I tiptoed up the stairs and scurried over the first bridge, each step less cautious than the last. We’d outwitted the killer and Director Verity. But no sooner had I slipped into Cabin Epsilon than someone fumbled with the light switch.
Not that the lights turned on, of course.
“That would have been much more dramatic if the power weren’t still out.”
I whirled around despite myself. Angeline was looming over me in pink pinstriped pajamas. How she managed to loom when she was barely taller than a garden gnome, I had no idea.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
I glanced down at my jeans, which were caked with mud and bits of tree bark, then back up at Angeline. “I guess you won’t believe I was looking for a midnight snack?”
“Since it’s just ten thirty, no.”
Brooklyn rolled over in bed. “If you two yahoos don’t shut up, then I’m going to eat you.”
Angeline ig
nored her. “You’ve got three seconds to spill.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Did you sneak out with the boys?”
I felt my cheeks get hot. “Not quite.”
She yanked me down onto her bed. “Tell me everything,” she said.
I dusted bits of tree bark off my jeans while I decided what to tell her. I’d already exposed half of the math nerds by letting them in on the secret. It seemed stupid to expose another. But a part of me—a stronger part—wanted her to believe me.
Ignoring the rumbling in my stomach, I pulled out my sketchbook and silently handed it to her. She took it without saying a word and calmly flipped through the clues until she landed on my note. I could tell when she got to the end, because she snapped the sketchbook shut.
“Where did you find these?” she demanded.
I couldn’t help but blink. “I found the note down by the truck. We found Graham’s clue in the sitting room during Mr. Pearson’s workshop. I don’t know where they found Oliver’s, but he or Munch could tell you. Or maybe Marshane was with him?”
“Who’s Munch?” Angeline asked.
“I don’t know his real name,” I admitted, “but he’s the one who likes Swiss Rolls. Oh, and I call Wyatt ‘Whistler’ for, you know, obvious reasons.” When she batted that away and leaped off the bed, I asked, “Do you know what’s going on?”
“Who cares?” Brooklyn replied. “Now, will you please shut up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep.”
If Brooklyn was using the word “please,” she was deadly serious. Angeline must have thought so, too, because she lowered her voice.
“There’s an old legend,” she said, “about the man who owned these woods.”
The hair on the back of my neck prickled. “Yeah, Munch mentioned him,” I said.
Angeline nodded knowingly. “The man’s name was Archimedes, and he was a brilliant mathematician. Some say he was a professor who took the ancient thinker’s name after he found another way to calculate the value of pi, and some say he was Archimedes, who somehow used mathematics to unnaturally extend his life.”
Brooklyn huffed under her breath.
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