Kade nods. “Definitely me.”
I grin and head for the wall. We discovered a chink in the room’s armor a while back. We were bored, lying on our beds and tossing a football between us. Kade said something insulting, can’t even remember what, and I hurled the ball at his head. He deflected it with his elbow and it smashed into the wall behind his desk.
Turns out the prestigious Eton isn’t as high class as everyone thinks it is. That wall was an obvious patch-up job, and we took advantage. Ripping the wood away, we unearthed a short passage between our room and the one at the end of the hall. Don’t know who put it there, but we’re all grateful.
Sliding Kade’s desk to the side, I shift the poster-covered plywood and get down on my knees. Room inspections happen every Saturday morning, which includes a search for items we aren’t supposed to have. Thanks to the empty room next door and our secret passageway, we never have to worry. All contraband is stored in our spare room, which we also use as a lounge for late-night TV and any holiday weekend we decide not to go home.
We’ve yet to be caught and are confident we’ll make it to graduation with our secret firmly intact, especially since Riley went the extra mile and improved the design. I don’t know how the guy smuggled the materials in, or if he just stole them from the caretaker’s shed or what. He’s taking it to the grave just in case we ever get busted. He doesn’t want Kade or me getting any blame.
The idiot still doesn’t get that we’ll stand beside him no matter what. He’ll figure it out eventually.
Anyway, thanks to his genius, the hidden doorway into our contraband storage closet now has these smooth rail sliders which means it opens without a sound and can be closed from either side.
Sliding the door open, I crawl through the space and close it behind me. Riley gets pissy if I don’t.
“What if you get busted in there?” he asked the first time I didn’t close it.
“By who?” I argued back.
Riley rolled his eyes. “Dean Cockhead’s a sneaky bastard. He’s like a panther waiting to pounce. Just close the door behind you every time and cover our bases, okay?”
Kade and I smirked at each other but agreed.
Riley’s always the cautious (or suspicious) one. It’s just his way.
But he really shouldn’t worry. The end room hall isn’t a coveted space. No one comes in here. The school’s all about forming friendships, blah, blah, blah, so hardly anyone bunks alone. Only the special needs cases end up on their own—either as punishment or because their parents want their precious offspring rooming alone.
It’s smaller than the usual rooms, like the builders were working without a plan and went, “Aw, crap, what are we gonna do with this end space here?”
It wouldn’t surprise me if it started out as a big storage closet and was then converted into a room one busy year when the roll was higher than usual. The only form of natural light is a narrow rectangular window near the internal wall.
I flick on the light, checking that the piece of black plastic we attached to the bottom of the door is still intact. The light doesn’t shine into the hallway, so we can be in here well past curfew and the dean won’t know it.
I pull open the closet, reaching into the back corner for our stash of candy bars. Our beer cooler is stored beneath the floorboards under the bed. Riley tutors kids in town on Tuesday nights, so he can restock it for us on his way back. We’ve perfected the art of concealment. He’s gotten past the gate guards every time, his backpack loaded with Bud Light.
Snagging the black bag, I pull it down and grab a can of Pringles, some Three Musketeers bars, and a packet of Reese’s Pieces. Dinner’s in twenty minutes. We can wolf this down and still have room for healthy eats.
Retying the bag, I make a mental note of our stock before throwing it back in the corner. Closing everything up, I head for the secret door and pause. Something’s caught my eye and it’s not a good sign. I should get out of here double-time, but I have to check out the suitcase I just spotted beneath the bed.
My brow furrows.
Who else is storing stuff in here? I have to know…and then warn them to stay the hell off our turf.
I tug it out and am about to open it up for a look when an idea hits me.
Wait. No frickin’ way.
The new kid. Mr. Skin and Bone. Ivan’s next victim.
They wouldn’t put him in here, would they? He can’t be a senior.
The door clicks open and I shoot to my feet, kicking the bag back into place.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I cram the candy into my pockets. The Pringles can sticks out of my sweatpants, impossible to hide.
It may seem ridiculous to be worried about getting busted with candy, but Dean Hancock is a strict SOB and I only have one strike left. I wouldn’t put it past him to use this small misdemeanor as an excuse to kick my ass to the curb.