**Sixty-Seven Days Before**

SO THIS IS HOW NOAH FELT. You wake up one morning, and it’s like God has forgiven you. You wander around squinting all day because you’ve forgotten how the sunlight feels warm and rough against your skin, like a kiss on the cheek from your dad. The whole world seems brighter and cleaner, as if central Alabama had been put through the washing machine for two weeks with extra-strength detergent and color brightener, making the grass greener and the bufriedos crunchier.

That afternoon, I stayed by the classrooms, lying on my stomach in the newly dry grass and reading American history—the Civil War, or as it was known around here, the War Between the States. To me, it was the war that inspired a thousand memorable last words. Like General Albert Sidney Johnston, who, when asked if he was injured, replied, “Yes, and I fear seriously.” Or Robert E. Lee, who, years after the war, in a dying delirium, said, “Strike the tent!”

I was pondering why the Confederate generals had better last words than the Union ones (Ulysses S. Grant’s final word, “Water,” was pretty underwhelming) when I noticed a shadow blocking the sun. It had been a while since I’d seen a shadow, so it startled me a bit. I looked up.

“I brought you a snack,” Takumi said, dropping an oatmeal cream pie onto my book.

“Very nutritious,” I said with a smile.

“You’ve got your oats, your meal, and your cream. It’s a damn food pyramid,” he joked.

“Hell yeah it is.”

I didn’t know what to say next. Takumi knew a lot about hip-hop; I knew a lot about last words and video games. Finally, I said, “I can’t believe those guys flooded Alaska’s room.”

“Yeah,” Takumi said, not meeting my gaze. “Well, they had their reasons. Even the Weekday Warriors know that Alaska is famous for pranking. Last year, we put a Volkswagen Beetle in the library. So if they have a reason to one-up her, they’ll try. Diverting water from the gutter to her room? That’s pretty ingenious. I mean, I don’t want to admire it…”

I laughed. “Yeah. That’ll be tough to top.” I unwrapped the cream pie and took a bite. Mmm… hundreds of delicious calories in every bite.

“She’ll think of something,” Takumi said. “Pudge,” he continued, “Hmm. Pudge, you need a cigarette. Let’s go for a walk.”

I felt uneasy, as I always did when someone said my name twice with a hmm in between. But I got up, leaving my books behind, and followed him toward the Smoking Hole. As soon as we reached the edge of the woods, Takumi veered off the dirt road. “Not sure the Hole is safe,” he said.

Not safe? I thought. It’s the safest place to smoke a cigarette in the known universe. But I followed him through thick brush, weaving around pine trees and chest-high brambles. After a while, he sat down, and I shielded my lighter from the slight breeze and lit up.

“Alaska ratted out Marya,” Takumi said. “So the Eagle might know about the Smoking Hole too. I don’t know for sure. I’ve never seen him down that way, but who knows what she told him.”

“Wait, how do you know?” I asked, skeptical.

“Well, for one thing, I figured it out. And for another, Alaska admitted it. She told me part of the truth: that right at the end of last school year, she tried to sneak off campus one night after lights-out to visit Jake and got busted. She said she was careful—no headlights or anything—but the Eagle caught her with a bottle of wine in her car. So she was screwed. The Eagle took her into his house and gave her the same ultimatum he gives everyone who gets caught: ‘Either tell me everything you know or go to your room and pack up your stuff.’ So Alaska broke and told him that Marya and Paul were drunk and in her room right then. And then she told him whatever else. The Eagle let her go because he needs informants. She was smart to rat on her friends; no one thinks to blame the friends. That’s why the Colonel thinks it was Kevin and his boys. I didn’t believe it could be Alaska until I realized she was the only one on campus who could’ve known what Marya was up to. I suspected Paul’s roommate, Longwell—one of the guys who pulled the armless-mermaid prank on you. Turns out he was home that night. His aunt had died. I checked the obituary. Hollis Burnis Chase—what a name for a woman.”

“So the Colonel doesn’t know?” I asked, stunned. I put out my cigarette, even though I wasn’t finished, because I felt spooked. I’d never suspected Alaska could be disloyal. Moody, yes. But not a rat.

“No, and he can’t know, or he’ll go crazy and get her expelled. The Colonel takes all this honor and loyalty stuff very seriously, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Takumi shook his head, pushing aside leaves to dig into the still-wet dirt beneath. “I just don’t get why she’d be so afraid of getting expelled. I’d hate it too, but you have to deal with it. I don’t get it.”

“Well, she clearly doesn’t like home.”

“True. She only goes home for Christmas and the summer, when Jake is there. But whatever. I don’t like home either. But I’d never give the Eagle the satisfaction.” Takumi picked up a twig and dug it into the soft red dirt. “Listen, Pudge. I don’t know what kind of prank Alaska and the Colonel are going to come up with to end this, but I’m sure we’ll both be involved. I’m telling you all this so you know what you’re getting into. If you get caught, you’d better be ready to take it.”

I thought about Florida, my “school friends,” and realized for the first time how much I’d miss Culver Creek if I ever had to leave. I looked down at Takumi’s twig sticking up from the mud and said, “I swear to God I won’t rat.”

I finally understood that day at the Jury: Alaska wanted to show us that we could trust her. Survival at Culver Creek meant loyalty, and she had breached that trust. But she had shown me the way. She and the Colonel had taken the fall for me to show me how it was done, so I’d know what to do when my time came.