Page 24 of Stop and Seek
Waiting.
Listening.
Less than a minute later? Two bracelets down.
Noah moved on, his steps quicker now, more confident.
The adrenaline and fear in the air tasteddamngood. High school always smelled like ink and desperation to him, but this was so much nicer.
Every catch was more exciting than the next, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Inside was too closed in, too predictable. His voice echoed in the hallways.
Instead, he headed toward the glass doors—the shuffling and flashlights drawing him outside.
Through the exit, it was all sticky humidity and the distant rumble of traffic. The courtyard was dimly lit, floodlights casting long shadows over the benches and trees.
Noah spotted movement near one of the tall hedges.
Soon he had three bracelets in his pocket.
He was getting there. Slow, but steady.
Crossing the courtyard, he stuck to the less lit areas. His ears strained, listening for any hint of someone hiding—breath, movement, a phone’s chirp or buzz.
Then, he saw it.
A blob of a shadow crouched low beneath the bleachers.
Noah paused, tilting his head.
The person shifted, and in that moment, the faint glint of glasses was the only thing he could focus on.
Noah’s heart slammed against his ribcage, blood roaring, drowning out everything else.
That familiar shape—tall and lanky as it adjusted—it wasBenji.
Benji was crouched low, shoulders rising and falling. He didn’t look like he’d noticed a single thing. Too sure on his hiding spot. Probably thinking he had outsmarted everyone.
Typical Benji.
Noah inched forward, silent against the dirt, every step deliberate.
Less than an arm’s length away, he struck.
Yanked Benji backward by his collar until he heard the choking gasp.
“Time for us to talk, Ben-Ben,” Noah whispered, lips brushing against his ear.
But something was off.
He couldn’t smell Benji’s usual cheap cologne.
The realization hit Noah as a solid elbow slammed into his stomach.
His world dissolved into a splatter of white dots. Shock washed over him first, then the nausea came.
“Get off,” the voice didn’t belong to Benji either. “Getoffme.”
