I walk around the back of the building to the door that’s inset at the bottom of the slope. It’s nondescript, painted the same color as the wall, but I know where it goes. I could sleep in the rooms under Willow Heights, where I’ve slept before, but too many people use that room. Obviously, my key is not the only one, but there’s nothing interesting in this room.
I unlock the door and step into the musty darkness that smells of dirt and cobwebs. I take a few breaths, letting myself adjust to the close feeling of being underground. I know it’s not actually a tight space—three tunnels open into the large room—but being underground still activates my claustrophobia a little. I turn on my phone’s flashlight and do a lap around the space, making sure there’s nothing creepy down here. After I’ve calmed my racing heart, I go back and pull the door closed. Then, I curl up on the dirt floor, wadding up the down jacket for a pillow.
It takes a while to fall asleep in the cold, strange space. I’m not sure how long I’ve been asleep when something wakes me. I sit up with a start, sure there’s a scream echoing in my ears. From somewhere in the tunnels, the sound of a droning chant echoes. Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I grope for my phone, scooting back until I’m pressed to the wall. I reach into my boot, pulling out the small switchblade and turning on my phone’s light. I’m still alone, but the creepy chanting makes my skin crawl, especially because I can’t tell which direction it’s coming from as it echoes through the underground tunnels.
Suddenly, I’m sure I hear running footsteps.
I shoot to my feet, scrambling to shove the key into the lock and turn. My knife slips from my hand, but I don’t bother retrieving it. If someone catches me, my fists will do as much damage. I bash my shoulder against the door, my heart racing. It flies open, and I just about tumble out, barely keeping my feet under me. I slam it shut, pressing my back to it for a second. Then I turn and lock it, my fingers still shaking.
Back in my car, I lock the doors and turn on the heat, rubbing my arms until the goosebumps disappear. It’s after midnight, so I must have slept a while, but I’m wide awake now. I crawl onto the back seat and lie there for a while, jumping every time a leaf falls on the car and skitters across the roof. Finally, when the light is starting to creep into the sky, I fall asleep.
I wake to the sound of someone tapping on the window. I startle awake and sit up, instantly reaching for my boot, only to remember I dropped my knife in the cave room. Outside, Gideon and the librarian are standing next to my car, talking. I run my fingers through my hair before opening the door.
“Harper,” Gideon says. “I thought that was you. What are you doing?”
“Iwassleeping,” I say before I can think better of it. No matter how nice they are, there’s no way in hell I’m going to explain to two preppy rich guys that my mother’s an addict whose dealer is going to take me or my car the next time he comes over, and I’m not willing to give either of those things for some fucked up street-drug version of Viagra mixed with crystal.
“Why are you sleeping in your car?” Gideon asks, a troubled frown on his brow.
“I got here early,” I say. “I was waiting for school to open, and I fell asleep.”
“Oh,” he says, looking confused. “Why are you so early?”
Mr. Delacroix looks less than convinced by my excuse, and he frowns at me as I stumble through a nonsensical explanation about going for a run and thinking it would take longer than it did. I avoid their eyes, grab my backpack, and head in with them, though. There’s not much they can do about it. I’ll have to remember to move my car to the student lot if I sleep here again.
There are obvious problems with that, too, though. Now that Gideon’s seen my car here, he’ll probably notice it in the student lot by itself, even if I park at the back. Plus, I’m going to need a shower and a place to freshen up every morning. I’m too groggy to think it all through, but I go to my locker and then sit on the floor at Gloria’s locker doing homework until she shows up. Of course she has breath mints, and even better, a travel sized bottle of mouthwash in her purse.
“Everything okay?” she asks in the bathroom as I rinse my mouth.
I spit and turn on the sink, more awake now than when the Delacroixs roused me. “I just got in a fight with my mom,” I say. “I left without brushing my teeth.”
“Ew,” she says, wrinkling her cute, freckled nose.
“I know, right?” I say, forcing a little laugh.
“Well, at least you got dressed,” she says, looking me over. “Is that a Gucci belt?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, looking down. “It was worth it to break dress code and wear jeans on Monday just to show it off. I mean, what’s one more write-up at this point?”
“I can’t believe you skipped a whole week of school to run off to New York with Royal,” she says, digging through her purse. “That’s so romantic.”
“Well, it was a college visit,” I say. “We’re not together.”
“Sure,” she says, rolling her eyes and leaning into the mirror to check her mascara.
I relax, relieved that I got off without more questions. Gloria might be on scholarship, but her family is obsessed with looking perfect. She wouldn’t understand sleeping in my car any more than Gideon would.
“I’m just saying,” she says. “If you wanted to be queen, last week was your chance, while the D-boys were suspended. You could have claimed the throne once and for all, put in the new world order or whatever.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking, and that’s not really me,” I say. “You have my blessing to be the queen you are. I’ll be the rebel I was meant to be.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “You don’t want to be queen anymore?”
“Nope,” I say. “It’s all yours. I’ve got too much on my mind to focus on school politics.”
“If you say so,” she says, dropping her lipstick back into her bag after freshening up. “Hey, you don’t think that’s why Royal took you away, do you? To make sure you didn’t displace his brothers?”
“No,” I say, giving her a funny look. “Royal doesn’t care about high school drama.”