What Lies Beneath ▸ House of Anubis [1]

chapter forty-four. house of yesterday

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"To find the secret of the past," I mutter, walking to my locker the next morning at school, "look beyond this world through glass...what does it mean?"

How are you supposed to 'look beyond this world?' Is the riddle telling us we should buy a crystal ball or something? Unlikely, I think. Are these clues just getting deliberately more difficult for us to figure out? Secret of the past...look beyond this world...

I shake my head and open my locker up, grabbing my box of colorful pens I keep in here. I'm meant to be meeting Amber in the art room to help her with last-minute campaign stuff, since I foolishly put myself on her team. Only because Jerome made me mad and I wasn't going to let Mara win so long as he's her campaign manager. And Amber came into the race late so she needs all the help she can get.

A shadow appears over me. Glancing over, I see that it's Jerome, who looks suspiciously hesitant as he looks down at me. I roll my eyes at his presence, telling him, "Go away, Clarke."

I deliberately focus my eyes on the inside of my locker, determined to plainly ignore him until he takes the hint, but I hear him sigh and infer, "Still mad at me, then?"

My scoff comes out with incredulous laughter. "You say 'still' like you've done something to make me not mad at you. After that stunt you pulled yesterday—God, why would you even do that?" I question harshly as I turn to face him and slam my locker shut, my attempts at ignoring him failing. "I get you want your candidate to win and whatever but I know Mara and there's no way she would have approved what you did. What, is your default mode just to be a jerk who goes after a girl's looks? 'Cause if you want to play that game, I know for a fact Alfie has some less-than-flattering photos of you, and come to think of it, I do, too. And I know politics gets dirty but you've already lost the second you went after her appearance."

He doesn't go on the offense like I expected him to. He stares at me with an unreadable expression on his face, and then he goes, "I'm sor—"

"Save it," I interrupt sharply. "Apologize to Amber, not me. If she accepts your apology, then fine. But that's a big 'if' after what you did. One more strike," I warn, stepping a little closer to him, "and Mr. Sweet finds out about your homework trade business. You're lucky I haven't gone to him already."

With that, I turn around and start to follow the familiar path through the corridors to the art room. That felt good, I'll admit. I'd completely forgotten about my and Fabian's threat to him about his homework business from a couple weeks ago. Glad I remembered it now. Maybe the threat of suspension or even expulsion will deter him from anything else.

When I reach the art room, Amber's already inside having a chat with Mrs. Burton, the art teacher and my favorite teacher ever. It helps that we're pretty sure she's one of the few teachers (along with Mrs. Robinson) who isn't involved in whatever Sweet and Andrews are involved in. We've never seen her speaking to any of them unless it's regular school business.