Free Breakfast Served Anytime by Sarah Combs Page B

papers on the desk. Mason regarded us with an oh-well shrug that was, hello, just not going to fly with me, not at all. We were on a
mission
.
    “Meghan,” I said, approaching the desk in my best imitation of bravado. “Hi. My name’s Gloria and these are my friends Chloe and Calvin. The Mad Hatter here is just along for the ride.”
    “Right,” Chloe offered, catching on. “He’s our resident Necessary Evil — don’t pay any attention to him at all.” This earned Chloe a stunned gape from Mason and sent Calvin shuffling red-faced to a nearby bench, where he sat down and pretended not to know us.
    “So Meghan,” I continued. “We’re Geek Campers, see, and we really, really need to get inside that tomb. Seriously, like five minutes. In and out. Just for a sec.”
    “It’s for a project,” Chloe added. “Our teacher’s got us on a scavenger hunt.”
    When Chloe said it out loud, I realized how lame it sounded. Could we be any more ridiculous? I was sure that Meghan, with her shiny hair and shiny business cards, thought we were idiots. I was surprised when she rummaged in her desk and produced a silver loop loaded with keys. “Five minutes,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Mason. “Got it?”
    Mason grinned as if the triumph were his, and we followed Meghan down a flight of stairs and one long, innocuous hallway, at the end of which was a completely innocuous standard-issue door that could’ve easily opened to a chemistry lab or a conference room. The door looked like all the other doors, which is to say that, judging by that door, the famous tomb of Thomas McGrath was turning out to be a total buzzkill, not at all like the dank, terrifying morgue I had conjured in my head.
    As Meghan inserted key after key to no avail, she launched into tour-guide mode, telling us how every Halloween, five Morlan students were selected by lottery to spend the night locked in McGrath’s tomb. It was a very big deal, this annual campus tradition, and students who submitted their names to the lottery became the stuff of legend. “Except if you’re this guy Dougie Landon,” she added. “A friend of my cousin’s roommate? One year Dougie was one of the McGrath Five, and he got so scared that he screamed and pounded on the door for three hours until somebody relented and let him out. Rumor has it he peed in his pants.”
    “Is that right?” Mason smirked.
    “That’s how the story goes,” Meghan replied coolly. “Ah. Finally.” With some effort, she shouldered the door open, and we were met by a decidedly unfriendly blast of cold air. So far I couldn’t see anything much, but the darkness and the cold and the whiff of damp from within — that was much more like it. I could feel the fear prickling up along my spine, thrilling and delicious.
    “There’s a light switch in here somewhere,” Meghan mumbled, feeling along the wall. Even with the light on, the space was dim and shadowy. “Enter at your own risk.”
    Chloe went in first, hopping down four stone steps into a space just big enough for two twin beds, only there were no beds down there, just two rectangular stone blocks, each one roughly the size of an outstretched human.
    “That’s him on the left,” Meghan told Chloe from her station at the door.
    “So who’s this, then?” Chloe climbed atop the other stone, stretched out on her back, and folded her hands behind her head.
    “That’s some other random guy; I forget who.”
    “Chloe?” Calvin asked, peering in over Meghan’s shoulder. “Is X’s letter down there, or what?”
    “Oh yeah,” Chloe said. “Lemme look.” She swung her legs over the side of Sir Random’s eternal resting spot as if she were lazing about on a sofa. We watched her slide her hands along the walls and climb over McGrath’s block, where she crouched on the far side and emerged, triumphant, with an envelope in her hand. “Voilà,
mes amis
! Now, get down here so we can open this thing.”
    “Why don’t you