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Today’s youth is different though.
When I go to check on them, they’re already in their respective rooms, playing video games, texting, scrolling through social media. ONE OF THEM IS READING A BOOK, like with pages you turn and everything.
Still, I go through my drill sergeant routine: “No leaving your rooms after 10 PM unless it’s to use the restroom. I’ll know if you’re being sneaky. There’s a security guard who’ll be in the hall, watching and waiting for you all to break the rules. I hear he has a taser on his belt. I’d hate to see him have to use it.”
“Uh-huh, okay, bye” is their collective bored response.
Back in my room, I grow suspicious. Who do they take me for? That was all clearly an act. They wanted me to see them behaving like perfect angels so I’d let my guard down and be less suspicious of them going forward.
They must think I’m an absolute idiot.
I walk across the hall to run through this idea with my only ally here, Noah.
He answers the door in a heavenly black t-shirt and sweatpants.
His mouth opens, but before he can speak, I hold up my hand.
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to interact with you outside of designated hours. I’m here on official business.”
He crosses his arms over his broad chest and leans his shoulder against the doorjamb.
It’s uncanny. His mannerisms are so good sometimes I forget he’s a cyborg programmed to annoy.
“I think the students are being deviant, and here’s why.”
After I give him the rundown, I expect him to shake his head in sheer disbelief of my genius, clap me on the shoulder for a job well done, and say, Sherlock, you’ve done it again!
Instead he says, “So far you’re the only miscreant in the bunch. I saw you pilfer that tiramisu at dinner.”
Singular—good. He doesn’t know I stole two.
“Are you coming or do I have to do everything myself?”
I turn and head down the hall, and he heaves a deep sigh. He wishes he could chuck me off the roof, but we’re in this together. Co-chaperones whether we like it or not.
A moment later, his door slams, and with his long strides, he catches me.
“So obviously we’re going for stealth,” I say, raising a brow pointedly at his feet.
“Just worry about yourself, Nancy Drew.”
Side by side, we walk, me taking two steps for every one of his.
We’re about to round the corner toward the kids’ dorms when I reach out and yank him back. Well…that’s what I try to do, but my strength is no match for Noah’s size. His momentum drags me forward and my face smashes into his exquisitely toned arm.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
Not Are you okay?
“I’m trying to make sure you don’t give away our element of surprise,” I hiss, working overtime to push away from him and put distance between us.
“Have you considered—”
“Yes I’ve considered everything, now be quiet.”
I butt him out of the way, scoot in front of him, and oh-so-carefully peer around the corner toward the dark hallway.
He steps up behind me, unnecessarily close. His chest presses against my back.
“Well? What do you see? Are they committing all the heinous acts you were imagining? Having an orgy? Shooting up drugs? Learning TikTok choreography?”
Words gurgle up in my throat, but nothing makes it off my tongue because I’m acutely aware of what it feels like to be cocooned by Noah’s body. To my utter horror, it’s not…awful. First of all, he smells like…and his muscles are…and the way he…
I need to force a restart on my brain.
Then, I see it: tendrils of smoke drifting out from a cracked door halfway down the hall.
Those little shitheads! How’d they get cigarettes without me noticing?!
I leap into action, sprint down the hall, and slam the door open before they have a chance to hide the drugs. Obviously, I immediately regret not taking the opportunity to kick the door open with my foot for added finesse. There’re so few chances in life to do that. You have to seize every one fate affords you.
My triumphant “Aha!” is drowned out by Kylie screaming at the top of her lungs.
She drops her steamer—the one she was using to get the wrinkles out of her clothes—and it clatters to the ground. The smoke cuts off.
I have exactly half a second to come up with an explanation and I settle on, “So you see, Noah? These doors are so flimsy! This one just flew open on its own. We need to call Lorenzo right now and have the school replace every last one—”
Noah takes me by the shoulders and drags me back out into the hall.
“Good night, Kylie. Sorry about that,” he tells her before gently shutting the door. “Proud of yourself?” he asks me.
I shrug him off. “Every good detective gets it wrong now and then.”
