Page 38 of Sweet Nightmare

I punch in the code, let the system scan my eye, then wait impatiently for the gate to swing open.

The second it does, I race through it and down the central path. But when I get to the fork in the road that separates the student side of the island from the forest and abandoned remains of the sanatorium, I veer off the heavily used part of the path and straight into the large copse of trees that marks the other side. I mean, sure, Jude and I explored it when we were kids alongside Caspian and Carolina. But there’s not much out there—a few old buildings, an old well we used to toss quarters down, and a root cellar from the days before regular refrigeration, when people had to store vegetables underground to keep them fresh.

All of which fascinated us when we were kids, but none of which would be of any interest to Jude now.

Still, the Jude I used to know never did anything without purpose. Which means he has a very definite reason for being out here. If I could just figure out what it is, maybe I’d actually have a chance of figuring out where he is.

Deciding I might as well start at the decrepit old buildings that were part of the former sanatorium, I veer off the main path as soon as I get to the small, manmade lake they used for rowing boats. Unlike everything else in this area, it’s still in half-decent shape—mostly because the resident mermaids and sirens adopted it about a decade ago and cleaned it up for their own personal use. They can’t shift, but they obviously still love the water.

It’s the only part of this side of the island that students actually come to regularly. Plus, the admins don’t mind because it means they don’t have to maintain the swimming pool anymore.

I pass the lake and head to the old doctor’s office and “daily constitutional” hut. They’re shrouded by looming bald cypress trees, needles blanketing the roofs. But the doors are all padlocked with rusty chains that look like they haven’t been touched in decades—because they haven’t.

But I still remember how we used to get in when we were kids. So I slip around the side to find the small, second-story window with the faulty lock. The rickety trellis we used to climb to reach it is still there, but there’s no way it would support my weight now, let alone Jude’s.

Deciding the huts are a bust, I head farther down the path to the root cellar. But I’m barely halfway there when I see a flash of red.

When I look closer, I realize someone is cutting through the rocky ground to my right, but it’s definitely not Jude. Whoever is out there is shorter and much scrawnier—but it’s definitely a student.

I try to wipe the rain out of my eyes to get a closer look, but it’s no use. It’s coming down in sheets now, and there’s nothing to do but suffer through it. Still, the odds that this person—whoever they are—is out here for a reason that isn’t connected to Jude is pretty much nonexistent in my mind. Especially considering they’re risking a major storm and my mother’s ire.

So what the hell is going on? And how much trouble is Jude going to be in if he gets caught? Or, conversely, how much trouble is he already in?

It’s that thought that spurs me forward, that has me falling into step behind the person in the red shorts and hoodie. I tail close enough that I don’t lose them in the storm but also stay far enough away not to call attention to myself.

But unlike Jude, they’re definitely not in stealth mode, so they don’t seem focused on anything but getting to their goal. Which, apparently, is the root cellar they’re leading me straight to.

What the hell?

There was nothing there the last time I was in that place. Just some old shelves, a few empty burlap bags, and a few broken jars. So what on earth could this person want—

I freeze as they bend down and throw open the door buried in the ground. Because as they do, I get my first good look at their face. And realize that I’ve been following Jean-Luc, self-appointed leader of the Jean-Jerks and asshole extraordinaire.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

TIME TO GET TO THE ROOT

CELLAR OF THE PROBLEM

What is he doing out here?

And what could it possibly have to do with Jude? They hate each other. I saw proof of that in class yesterday. And yet they’re both out here in the middle of this storm doing God knows what… It makes no sense.

Something definitely isn’t right here—and while I’m the first to acknowledge that can be said for all manner of things at Calder Academy, there’s something about this that really freaks me out.

Curiosity—and more than a little worry—is burning inside me as I take off running toward Jean-Luc, no longer caring if he or Jude see me. Something very not okay is going on out here, and I may be pissed off at Jude, but I still have trouble believing he’s somehow mixed up with the Jean-Jerks.

I watch as Jean-Luc disappears inside the root cellar. The thought of him in there with Jude has me sprinting toward it—or as close to sprinting as I can get over the slick, rocky ground. As I run through the low bushes and weeds, sand gives way to mud that sucks at my shoes and makes it impossible for me to move quickly.

But Jean-Luc is long gone—and the root cellar doors closed behind him—before I even make it to the structure.

A frisson of unease skitters down my arms, has goose bumps rising all over my body. Nothing about this place feels like it used to—nothing about it feels right—and every cell in my body is suddenly screaming at me not to touch anything.

To back away.

To run away.

But what if Jude isn’t involved? What if he’s in some kind of trouble? If he’s in there, I can’t just leave him, can I? I don’t know a lot about what got the Jean-Jerks sent to Calder Academy—there are a million stories circulating, most of which I’m pretty sure were started by them—but I do know who they are.

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