“We should go back and move the ramp anyway.”

“Oh my God,” Dash said. “Fine. Just let me finish eating for a second?”

Gretchen turned ever so casually toward them, her gaze passing like a cloud overhead.

What had she and Hayes been talking about earlier? What did Hayes owe Gretchen? And did being associated with Hayes cause this kind of turmoil? Maris was nervous, all of them were working on something that really benefited Hayes, Gretchen was literally seeking some kind of retribution.

How did some people lead these kinds of lives?

Dinner was finished quickly, much to Nate’s chagrin, and the four of them—Maris, Dash, Stevie, and Nate—made their way back to the sunken garden.

It was now just coming on nightfall, the sky turning an electric blue with the trees standing out in stark relief. As they walked, Stevie heard someone approaching briskly, then turned to see Germaine Batt next to her.

“Where are you guys going?” she asked.

“To the sunken garden,” Nate said. “To move a ramp. Or something. I don’t know. I thought I just had to write.”

“Can I come?”

“You want to move a ramp?” Stevie said.

“It’s everyone’s dream,” Nate said, tugging his backpack higher on his shoulders. “Come to Ellingham Academy, move a ramp out of a hole in the dark.”

“I just want to see what you’re doing,” Germaine said.

“More Hayes news?” Stevie said.

“I got fifty thousand views on that last one.”

“That would be good on a tombstone,” Stevie said. “I got fifty thousand views on that last one.”

“Say what you want,” Germaine said, a frosty edge in her voice. “I honestly don’t care.”

When people say they honestly don’t care, they care. Germaine hadn’t done anything to Stevie. There was no reason to be spiky with her. Sure, it was a little unsavory what she was doing, but it didn’t seem to be hurting Hayes any. If anything, he literally had a new girlfriend running after him right now, in front of them, in the gathering dark.

“Sorry,” Stevie said. “Just kidding.”

“It’s fine,” Germaine replied crisply. It did not seem fine.

The last lightning bugs of the season were dancing over the lawn as they entered through the gate. The hole in the ground looked a bit more ominous in the dark, and the dirty glass of the observatory caught the rising moon. There were piles of poles, and folded tarps, and the ramp.

“Hayes?” Maris called.

No reply. An unseen bird rustled in the treetops overhead.

“Where is he?” Maris said.

“Who knows?” Dash said. “He’s probably on the phone somewhere and left us with this to clean up. Come on.”

“He’s got to be here somewhere,” Maris said. “Hayes!”

Her bright, operatic voice rang from end to end of the garden.

“You’ll figure this out fast,” Dash said, picking up some poles. “Hayes is never around to do the dishes.”

Maris shifted around, and for the first time, Stevie saw a first year like herself, someone who’d fallen for someone fast and was rapidly realizing things were not equal on both sides.

On their return home that evening, Nate went right to his room. Stevie decided to sit in the hammock chair in the common room and wait for Hayes to return. She could not fully explain why she did this. Maybe it was irritation. Maybe it had something to do with the tunnel. Had Hayes gone back there? Why had he turned like that and gone off on his own so deliberately?

Whatever the case, the hammock chair was a good place to sit and watch some episodes of Stormy Weather. She had earned them. The hours passed. Nine became ten, which was when Janelle returned, her face flushed.

“Hey,” she said, dropping to the floor by Stevie’s feet with a wide grin. “I was just doing some work with Vi. I saw you brought my poles back.”

“I’ll always have your pole,” Stevie said. “And working with Vi?”

“Studying,” said Janelle. “In the yurt.”

“Yurt studying?”

Janelle smacked Stevie’s shins playfully with the cord of her headphones.

“I’ll get my stuff,” Janelle said. “I’ll sit with you.”

Ten became ten thirty. Curfew was eleven, and there was no Hayes yet. Stevie began to think more about the tunnel. Hayes had clearly been in it before. Was it stable? It had been packed with dirt for many decades. It had been through all kinds of weather. It was locked. There were cracks. What if he’d gone down alone? What if it had gone down on his head?

No. Hayes was just being Hayes.

He wasn’t with Maris, though. Maybe he was with Gretchen?

It didn’t matter where he was. So why was she so anxious?

Because she had anxiety.

Pix also moved into the common room wearing a flowing pair of cotton pants and a black tank top showing off her muscular arms as she knitted away and watched a documentary on her computer. Ellie and David floated in at just before eleven, both grinning. They dropped onto the sofa together.

“So,” David said to Stevie, “exciting Saturday night?”

“What’s the matter?” Ellie said. “You look kind of freaked out.”

Before Stevie could reply, Pix pulled off her headphones and looked at the group.

“Anyone know where Hayes is?” she asked. “He’s about to be late.”

Everyone else replied in the negative. Stevie decided to look blank and ignore the question.

Pix pulled out her phone and started texting.

Stevie felt the electric zing of anxiety shoot down her arms. He would come in at any second. He was just being stupid. Don’t mention the tunnel. It would get everyone into trouble, probably, for no reason.

Eleven became eleven thirty.

“I hate calling Larry because people are late,” she said. “He’s not answering my texts. He didn’t tell anyone where he was?”

Stevie felt a vein beating in her forehead.

“Look,” Stevie said, “I don’t know where Hayes went—I don’t—but a couple nights ago? We went in the tunnel.”

David and Ellie jerked their heads up at this. Janelle had headphones on and did not hear.

“You need to be more specific,” Pix said. “There are a lot of tunnels.”

“The one under the sunken garden.”

“That one is filled in,” Pix said.

“Not anymore,” Stevie said. “It was fine, but . . . I don’t know. Maybe he went back there?”

“Are you kidding me?” Pix said. “Oh God.”

Ten minutes later, Larry was at the door of Minerva.

“Mark is already on his way to the tunnel,” he said to Pix. “Stevie, coat on. Come with me.”

A few minutes later, Stevie was out in the cold alongside Larry, their breath puffing out in front of them, their flashlights making long, dancing dots on the ground.

“I knew someone would try to get in there,” Larry said, gesturing for Stevie to get into the waiting golf cart. “I knew we should have welded it shut.”

Stevie wrapped her arms tight around herself as the cart rumbled down the path.