BEJEWELED ★ CONNOR STOLL

TWO

THIS MIGHT BE THE craziest thing Tilly Beaumont has ever done.

She's wearing black, for gods' sakes. It's completely unlike her—she'd had to borrow Lucy's clothes, and she's so much taller that the black sweatpants are rolled twice and tied tightly at the waist.

"Shut up!" Lucy hisses to Torrance, slapping a hand over her mouth. "Stop laughing. Please. The harpies are about to eat our faces off if you don't keep your mouth shut."

Tilly can't help but wheeze in laughter, trying her damndest to stay quiet. The lawn between cabins sprawls endlessly in the dark of the night, and every shadow has the wicked features of the harpies that snack upon wayward campers after dark. The only beacon as to where they're going is the moonlight that glints off of the caduceus on the roof of the Hermes cabin.

"Are you sure Jules is awake?" Lucy whispers, dark eyes focused on the warping shadows.

Torrance nods fervently, her red-brown curtain bangs falling into her face. "She promised she'd stay up until we got there. Her bunk is next to Baby Stoll's." Her voice is still too loud, and Lucy nearly tackles her to the ground.

The three girls keep low to the ground, half-sprinting the rest of the way to the Hermes cabin. When they reach it, Tilly taps the wooden door twice in quick succession, then another two times after a brief pause.

The door opens a crack, black-lined brown eyes peeking through the opening. "Hey, Beaumont."

Tilly gives Jules a beaming smile. "Hey, Jules. Is he asleep?" Her voice is little more than a breathy whisper, and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, thankful that her skin is no longer flaming red.

"Snoring up a storm." Jules cracks a grin, a dimple in her cheek. "Come on. He's a heavy sleeper, but Travis isn't."

Lucy glances between them all. "How do we know they'll all stay asleep?"

With a smile that glints like pearl in the darkness, Torrance peers past Jules into the quiet cabin. "They will."

"Alright," Tilly says. "You guys stay out here. I'll be out in a minute."

She creeps on silent feet—silent feet that wear Lucy's shoes—through the small opening, sliding in past Jules, who holds up five fingers. Five minutes.

She nods, and when she ducks into the cabin, she doesn't make a sound.

The moonlight filtering through the narrow windows lights up the floor plan in a way that reminds her of her little step-brother's favorite action movie. She sees dozens of bunk beds, half of them filled with sleeping campers that are little more than lumps under blankets. There are a few beds that have arms or legs hanging out from under the warmth of quilts and duvets, but no one moves apart from a slight twitch here and there. The bunk spaces are lined with heavy white curtains for privacy and soundproofing, but the late-spring heat has everyone leaving them open, desperate for some circulation without air conditioning.

Tilly finds Connor's bed soon enough—she sees the worn leather bracelet tied around the wrist that hangs over the edge of the top bunk, about halfway down the row of beds. His snores are the loudest in the room, and he mumbles in his sleep.

"Leave me alone, Sandman. Stop chasing me with snakes."

She presses her fingers to her lips to prevent herself from laughing. She owes Valerie Greenwood a bouquet of flowers, or a fruit platter. Something to thank her for the image of Connor's face screwed up in fear that has engraved itself into her head.