Yeah, I thought, my blood suddenly burning through my veins. Quite.
There was no choice but to devour the other half of my brownie. It was my only option. Favorite Fac Brat? Teacher’s Pet? Everyone’s Friend? Best to Bring Home to Your Parents?
The theme was really fucking clear here. I was nice, well-liked, respected, and polite.
But I was also a goddamn Goody Two-Shoes.
After classes that afternoon, I went straight home. Won’t be back until after dinner, my mom had texted earlier. Have a department meeting and then will probably stay to draft some exams.
Meh, I replied.
Bleh, she countered, and understandably so. Writing exams was no fun, but I was relieved to have our house to myself for a while. I’d had a one-track mind since lunch with Daniel and didn’t want anything or anyone to interrupt my racing thoughts. I was so distracted that I’d accidentally left my umbrella behind in the English building and was soaking wet by the time I walked into my bedroom. It was now absolutely pouring outside. The ocean waves were churning like my stomach.
“Okay,” I said to myself as I sat down at my desk and fired up my laptop. “Okay, here we go…” I opened a new Chrome window with one hand while using the other to fumble through my desk’s top drawer. My pruned fingers tingled when they found my taped-together prank summons. The twenty-four-hour clock was rapidly winding down, and my confidence would soon do the same.
Email [email protected] with your answer, I read for the hundredth time, noting the Roman numerals. XXIII—or in other words—twenty-three. How formal, how old-fashioned. How Alex. Before dashing off a response, I logged out of [email protected] and decided to create another account—just to ensure there wouldn’t be an electronic paper trail leading back to me.
Several email creation attempts later, [email protected] was born. Alex was our Jester, and I was one of his bells and whistles. Ready and willing to help pull off his master plan, ready and willing to help him entertain.
I can’t believe I’m doing this, I thought with gritted teeth.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Answer to your disturbing ransom note
Hi,
Yes, I’m in…as long as we aren’t wearing those stupid jingly hats.
- Lily
I shut my eyes and hit Send, then opened them and stared at the screen for a good while. I even clicked to refresh my empty inbox, although when no response appeared, I admitted defeat and went to take a hot shower.
It wasn’t until I was in dry clothes and about to reheat leftover chili that my phone lit up with a new email. I’d made sure to log in to my new account.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Answer to your disturbing ransom note
Lily,
Welcome. No, we won’t be wearing festive hats (they’re NOT stupid). I thought about it, but unfortunately, they make noise, and we want to avoid noise.
Yours with merriment,
The Jester
PS: Please do not diss your invitation. Each one took a lot of time and patience to make. Crafting skills at their finest, no?
I rolled my eyes. Alex.
Who else is in on this? I asked.
Please not Blair Greenberg, please not Blair Greenberg…
A new email appeared within a minute.
Hard to say, he said. Not every fool has answered yet.
That was surprising. I’d thought for sure I’d be the last to respond. Alright… I typed. What are we doing then?
Oh, that’s confidential.
My thumbs flew frustratedly across my screen. But your note said that if we said yes, we should expect further instructions!
Yeah, the Jester wrote. FURTHER instructions. Not IMMEDIATE instructions.
I stirred the chili on the stove top. Same thing.
Are they, though? came his response when the chili had begun to simmer, and I saw that he’d included definitions for “further” and “immediate.”
The tips of my ears prickled, suddenly unsteady. The two words weren’t synonyms, but of course I’d known that. What was throwing me off was the message itself. It didn’t read like Alex. He wasn’t…a dork. Or at least a dork who used the dictionary.
Alex isn’t the Jester, I realized. It was someone else.
Pulse pounding, I took a few steps back from the stove to lean against the kitchen’s small butcher-block island.
I hate you, I wrote to see if my inkling was right. I used to tell Tag I hated him all the time and he always had the same comeback.
I don’t believe you, read the next email.
Tears prickled in the corners of my eyes. Why not?
The minute that passed after I pressed Send might as well have taken an entire day.
Twenty-four hours.
My heart lurched when an answer finally appeared.
Because you’ve got my favorite smile on your face, Tag had written.
Tag. Taggart Swell, this year’s Jester.
FOUR
I didn’t respond to Tag’s last email, and he didn’t offer a follow-up message or any sort of “further instructions.” The conversation ended, so I went back to stirring my chili, blinking away my stupid tears and annoyed with myself that I’d never considered Tag as a Jester option. His other half was the obvious choice—popular, whimsical, and always up for a good time—and I knew how much Alex wanted the title. I guess I’d wanted that dream to come true for him.
And how did I miss it? I berated myself. His Jester email address’s Roman numerals! Tag and I both took Latin; the XXIII should’ve been an easy tip-off.
Ugh, Tag—oh, I could see it now. He too was popular but perhaps the previous Jester saw a little bit more edge in him. While Alex and Tag were both smart, Tag was also clever and calculated. Alex could be too spontaneous, but Tag was his perfect counterpart, a careful planner. Together, no one was funnier than they were. But Alex was a goofball twenty-four seven while Tag could easily dial his humor back and become thoughtful and serious. “That kid is a true leader,” I’d once overheard Josh telling my mom during swim season. “He never fucks around on the pool deck; he gives the meet his all. Hell, his pump-up speeches are better than mine.”
The Jester knew him, I thought. Whoever had tapped Tag knew all this.
I hated that my mind immediately went to the senior girl he’d hung out with last year whenever he and Blair weren’t together. She’d been a star on the swim team and absolutely gorgeous and—
Shut up, the now-boiling chili told me. I moved to take the pot off the burner. You broke up with him, remember? He can date whomever he wants. It’s none of your business.
I didn’t like that my fears had come true. With girls flinging themselves at Tag left and right, spiked vines had tangled around my heart—making me worry that he would dump me for one of them, because he hadn’t exactly been pushing the attention away. “He’s a good guy, Lily. You know he’s just being nice,” Alex had tried to reassure me, but soon the vines had become too tight. Three weeks after Tag and I broke up, he and Blair had been spotted making out near the basketball court after a dance. From then on, he was attached to her or his swim teammate.