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She’s bugged that I broke into her story. Tessie enjoys the flow of a narrative. “Never mind. Sorry. Forget it.”
She tells the story to the tiles at her feet. About how Hayes has been planning this amazing adventure date for them to celebrate midterm tests ending, and how he knew where to find the entrance to the ancient steam tunnels.
I heard about the tunnels, of course. Everyone heard about them. Year after year the stories get more intense, or maybe the students tell the more intense stories as we all get older. People say the tunnels connect all the original buildings at Chamberlain, and that they’re totally haunted and spooky. It’s supposed to be the site of some terrible accidents, and only a few people know how to find the doors. Which are all locked, of course.
“He unlocked a door, and when we got inside, he sent his flashlight up and around so we could see the brick and metal walls. The sound of the door clanking shut behind us freaked me right out, and he had to comfort me until I could catch my breath.”
I bet he did,I think, but I don’t say anything. Just nod and rub her back.
“A few steps into the tunnel, he pretended his flashlight stopped working, but when I got too scared, he admitted he was teasing and turned it back on.”
He’s a charmer, that’s for sure. Seduction through terror. What a winner.
“The floor was wet, and he told me it was probably propane, or whatever they used to use to make the lamps and heaters work before electricity. I was so scared that I’d cause a spark that I kept my arms out to my sides so my coat wouldn’t rub together like a flint.”
I bet he told her that, too. I can totally see it. Milking the situation for all it’s worth. He’s such a drama queen. It’s usually kind of cute, but I hate that he played this all up to make Tessie feel scared.
“There were all these clanging sounds, like someone banging on pipes. It was so spooky.”
It was probably Hayes’s bros, actually clanging on pipes. They probably took turns being the atmosphere and being the main characters. Anyone cool enough to be in Hayes’s group has likely been in on the whole arrangement. Would I have loved that a few years ago? It seems stupid and dangerous now. I suddenly feel so old.
“When he started shivering and shaking, I figured he was playing up a new element of the experience, right? Like he was possessed or something.” Tessie looks up at me. “But then he was sick. Like, sick-sick. In front of me.”
“He threw up?” I asked. That’s harder to fake.
She nods. “And he was moaning and holding his head, and even if he was pranking me, I was done. I grabbed his hand and pulled him back to where we came in. I made him keep talking, but he wasn’t making any sense. I know he might have still been faking it, but when we got to the clinic door, he slumped over. Just fell onto his butt and kind of passed out. Dr. Mercer and I had to pick him up and carry him inside.”
Tessie is so pale even her lips are colorless. Her eyes, huge and scared, reflect the off-hours lights in the waiting room. Grayson must have been really worried about Hayes if he didn’t even turn on the lights.
“So what is it?” I ask. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Dr. Mercer thinks maybe carbon monoxide poisoning.”
I sit up straighter. “So you could have it, too. You could be a sick as he is.”
Tessie shakes her head. “I’m not. I’m fine. I only went down to the tunnels once. Hayes has been in the tunnels for hours. All last night. All day today. He explored a whole bunch of the connecting branches to find just the right one for us to go into.”
“How romantic,” I mutter, but she doesn’t hear my sarcasm.
“I know,” she says, and the crying starts up again. “He just wanted to make the night perfect for me.”
I don’t argue. I don’t say anything, because there is nothing I can say that’s both helpful and honest. I mean, he’s cute, and he’s funny, and some people love a crazy prank, but this is not about creating a special moment for his girlfriend. He was posing and showing off and he put her in real danger.
No matter how true it is, she’s not going to hear any of that from me.
But once again, I feel old.
And I’m still very worried about the air she was breathing down there under the school.
I pull out my phone and look up carbon monoxide poisoning.
I stand up. “Let’s take a walk.”
She looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. “I’m not leaving him, Sage.”
“No, of course not. Let’s just do a couple of laps around the building.” I need to know she’s inhaling as much fresh air as possible.
I don’t sit back down, and I tug on her hand hard enough that she’s going to have to get up. She eventually does, and I drag a chair over to prop open the clinic door. As we walk around in the dark, I ask her a few questions, checking the details of the story and listening for any hint of confusion. She’s not stumbling or acting dizzy, and her breathing is normal for a person who keeps bursting into tears.
