Page 118 of Tell No One
“No one touched me.”
“Good. Go back to sleep.”
“Did you find out what’s happening tomorrow?”
Again, decision time, but Tag couldn’t take the risk. “No, but I’m pretty sure it’s something bad.”
“What sort of bad?”
“They’re not going to be nice to us. I think we need to be ready for that.”
“How can we be ready?”
“Remember we talked about those boards in the barn?”
“Yes.”
“I think we need to hide. These guests won’t hang around if we’ve disappeared.”
“But as we were leaving the drawing room, I heard that American say ‘if I was gay.’”
“It might not be sex they want from us.”
“What else?”
“Pain?”
It was as far as Tag dare go.
“Shit.”
“Try to sleep. The door’s locked. We can’t get out. Kareem is on guard. We’re too high to jump or even tie bedsheets together.”
Ahsan slipped his hand into Tag’s. It didn’t seem long before Ahsan was quietly snoring. Tag didn’t think he’d sleep but the next thing he knew, Lincoln was shaking him.
“Wake up. Shower. Get dressed. Put on the clothes I’ve laid out for you. Ahsan’s are on the left. Breakfast is on the table.”
Tag let Ahsan use the bathroom first. He took his clothes and shoes with him. Ahsan looked so miserable that Tag worried he’d give something away. Not that Tag had told him anythingtogive away. He glanced at the clothes. His Converse were there and Tag looked for his fell runners, then swapped them.
No way was Tag wearing a white T-shirt. It wasn’t his anyway. But Lincoln stopped him swapping it. It wasn’t good news that Lincoln also wore a white T-shirt.
When Ahsan came out wearing one too, Tag whispered, “You need a dark top. Spill something.”
Tag didn’t linger in the shower. He couldn’t delay the inevitable. He came out wearing a sweater. Under that he had the white T-shirt, and a long-sleeved grey one beneath that.
“You’re supposed to be wearing the T-shirt,” Lincoln said.
Tag tugged the white material down from underneath to show him. “I am. See?”
“Shit!”
They both turned at Ahsan’s exclamation. He’d spilt his coffee and he whisked the T-shirt over his head and rubbed at his reddening chest.
Lincoln looked between them, frowned, then shrugged. Tag wondered if he’d make the jump but he didn’t. Ahsan pulled out a black T-shirt and a dark fleece.
“It’s not that cold,” Lincoln said.
“Maybe I’m sickening for something.” Ahsan coughed.
