Page 71 of They're Watching You

“Turns out the tea was some sort of herbal sedative. We were both knocked out.”

He squints up at me, trying to lift his head. “Then why aren’t we back in a cell?”

I dig my fingers under his back to help him up, the way Paul helped me moments ago. When he’s situated against the side of the couch, I turn to search for my leftover water, but Remington catches my arm and pulls me toward him. He hesitates a second, his stare latched on to mine.

Then he kisses me. I startle, unsure if it’s a thank-you or a we-might-die-tonight kiss, but his lips are warm, and his hand on my cheek blurs whatever sharpness of mind I’d regained in the last few minutes, putting me back in my drug-induced state. Remington is undoubtedly feeling it too, because his body sways beneath me, and he has to pull away to catch his breath.

I turn to find my glass of water, and Paul is sitting there, watching us like we’re a riveting television program. “I’ll explain later,” I tell Remington quietly as he notices the other presence in the room with a head-jerk. “The Gamemaster has granted us a reprieve until tonight.”

“He’sthe Gamemaster?”

“Uh, sure. Maybe?” I hand him the water glass. “I have no idea.”

“So what?” Remington asks, taking the glass. “We spend thisreprievehere, I’m assuming. Where this freak can watch us?”

“Not at all,” Paul says without flinching at the name-calling. “The door is unlocked. You may see yourselves to your rooms.”

Remington casts him a tired glance. “You’re going to trust us,” he says dryly, “out there.”

“The Gamemaster is certain you won’t try anything.” Paul stands and walks over to the front door. “Go on, get your rest.” His gaze fastens on my fingers entwined in Remington’s. “Spend time together. I have a feeling that after tonight, you two won’t be quite as”—his lips twist—“close.”

He holds the door open for us, and I resist the urge to demand what he means by that. Speaking to Paul is getting us nowhere. And my head is pounding, a remnant of whatever special herbs the headmistress stuck in our tea. “Let’s go,” I say, standing and tugging on Remington’s hand.

He nods, but his legs are too unstable and I’m not strong enough to pull him up. “Come on.” I help him try again until he’s on his feet, blinking like he’s dizzy, leaning an elbow on the couch. I dip my shoulder beneath his arm for support and trudge toward the door. We have to get out of here before Paul—Gamemaster, crazed acolyte, whoever he is—changes his mind.

I grab my backpack from the foyer floor and sling it on. As we cross the threshold, I hold my breath, waiting for Annabelle to pop out of the dark. But it looks clear, so I nudge Remington to the steps.

“Oh, and you’ll find the dining hall available for your convenience,” Paul adds, his figure a silhouette behind us in the bright doorway as I crane my neck to glance back. “The Gamemaster understands you must be famished.”

“Thanks,” I mutter wryly, taking the steps as Remington seems to be regaining equilibrium. His weight transitions off of me. One after another, we hurry through the garden.

Ahead, the orchard is shrouded in mist, filled with the sound of crickets. It stands like an army of monsters beneath the watery moonlight. We push ahead in silence, unwilling to chance a word until we’ve placed some distance between ourselves and the cottage. Once out, we round the pond, our feet sloshing through the mud and goose droppings on the bank. My heart thunders in the open space. It will be sunrise soon.

“So what’s the plan?” Remington asks, keeping pace at my side. “You aren’t really going back to your dorm—or the dining hall—where they can keep tabs on you.”

“They can keep tabs on us everywhere. They’re always watching us. Even in the headmistress’s living room.” Ahead, a puddle glistens in the moonlight, and I hop it, landing on the slick, silty ground.

Remington, either unsteady on his feet or past caring, clomps straight through it. “So we’re just going to give up, like they want us to?”

“They don’t want us to give up,” I say. “The opposite, in fact. Paul said he’s pleased by how much of a fight we’ve put up. The society finds us entertaining, and as long as we stay that way, we’re safe.” I duck an overgrown pine branch, and Remington swats at it. We slip into the shadows between the fitness center and the health building. “But Polly and Jane aren’t. So we’ll have to come up with a plan.” Remington opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “We can’t afford to put our trust in the wrong person again. So we’ll have some food and some non-drug-induced sleep, and then we’ll decide what to do.”

“We’re really going to waltz into the dining hall? Was I the only one who heard the horror movie music playing while Paul told us the place would be open for us? As inonly us? You and me, alone in that massive dining hall they invited us to. Without working phones, by the way.”

“I heard the music,” I say, scanning the final walkway between this cluster of buildings and the dining hall. Remington catches up with me, and I slip my hand into his. “It hadThe Shiningvibes, like, if the Carpenters were also providing vocals for the score.”

“That was it!”

“Only I’m so hungry, I don’t even care if this is the part where the society finishes us off and bakes us into tomorrow’s menu while the ghosts of the Carpenters serenade us. I’m eating leftover dining hall food, whether you join me or not.” The wind kicks up the spicy scent of the daphne shrubs bordering the dining hall as I release his hand and veer up the path.

Remington growls and kicks a rock, which clanks against a sprinkler. I scold him with a glance, and he ducks his head into his shoulders. “Of course I’m coming.” He marches behind me as I try the door, which, unsurprisingly, opens.

The place is dark and still. It’s also surrounded by windows; turning on the lights would be a mistake. Instead, we maneuver our way through the tables and chairs to the kitchen to scrounge up some leftovers. When I reach for the handle, Remington tugs on my arm. “What’s that?” he whispers.

At the back of the room, beams of light play over the wall. They flicker and oscillate across the shadows. Like fire.

Twenty-Seven

We tiptoe to the back, stopping to peer around the corner, to get a view of the small windowless alcove where Remington and his bros usually sit.

---