she caught the light from outside. She saw the words Hutch had written on the underside of the shelf backward—miles to go before I sleep—now plain to read in the reflection. And next to them: the logo she had seen in the library. The circle with three trees, a variation on the Keaton logo. Could it also be the same logo from Reed Hutchins’s belt buckle? It had to be, although why and how, Devon did not know. She also saw now that Tres Abbatis and the three-tree logo was scratched into the black mirror backing. Was this carving also from Hutch? The scrawl of the logos matched too well not to be from Hutch. What was he trying to communicate? Devon repeated the works to herself. “Tres abbatis, tres abbatis,” probably Latin, meaning three of something. She’d look up abbatis back in her room.
As Devon slid the mirror back into the clips on the wall she heard muffled voices in the room next door. “Matt, you’re being paranoid,” a girl’s voice was saying.
She held her breath, listening.
“I’m being paranoid? You need to be a little more paranoid if you ask me. You’re certainly taking the pills for it. He knows I have it, Isla.”
“Calm down, you’ve kept it on the DL. He thinks everything went down in flames with Hutch.”
“If anyone finds this do you know how busted I’ll be? I’m not going down for this. You know what? Hutch isn’t here anymore, he can take the heat.”
Devon heard the door squeak open. There were footsteps in the hall—and the handle on Hutch’s door turned. She barely had enough time to pull the closet door shut before Matt stormed into the room. She couldn’t see what he did, but she heard a squeak of bedsprings. Then Hutch’s door closed again. Devon took a deep breath. She counted to twenty, praying she wouldn’t faint. She was alone. Hutch’s mattress was still empty, the shelves still bare. She lifted the mattress and saw a small black moleskin journal like Hutch used to carry. Devon flipped it open to find pages and pages of initials with numbers and letters next to them.
SH: 15/mg/AD
MD: 25/mg/RT
RK: 10/mg/VC
Hutch’s records of the pharmaceuticals. Cleo mentioned he was good at keeping track of how much people had. That’s because he kept a notebook of everything. No wonder Matt wanted to hide this. He and Isla sounded worried about someone finding this notebook. Reed and Raven and Bodhi were right; they were hiding something. Maybe they knew where the Oxy came from that had killed Hutch. Maybe this book had that answer. Devon felt her hands clenching into fists. She tucked the book into the back of her pants and got the hell out of Fell House as fast as she could.
DEVON’S DOOR WAS OPEN. Funny, she’d left it closed before going to the library. Seething, she picked up her pace down the hallway. If Grant thought he could sneak in without her noticing, he was sorely mistaken. Devon would love to catch him red-handed. Would she turn him in right away? Or enjoy letting him simmer in his guilt for a day or two, knowing that he could be called to the headmaster’s office at any time?
She burst in, taking a breath to yell “Caught you!” but instead of Grant, she found Presley sitting on her bed next to Mrs. Sosa. They both looked worried, sad—guilty, even. “Pres? What’s up?” Devon asked. She dropped her backpack on the ground and noticed her dresser drawer was open. The drawer with the green bottles. Mrs. Sosa spoke as the dread snaked its way down Devon’s back.
Oh, God, no.
“Devon? We need to have a talk. Have a seat.” Mrs. Sosa said, slowly and quietly.
“Dev, I’m sorry. I thought you had my hoodie. I looked in your drawer and I saw the bottles.”
Mrs. Sosa pulled the plastic bag of the three green bottles onto her lap. Inside the bag was also the small bottle of Oxy from Isla and the stray blue Adderall pills she had taken from Isla’s dresser. When the photo of Isla and Hutch poked through behind the bottles, Devon thought she was going to throw up. How was she going to explain this? The book she had taken from Hutch’s room was still wedged into the back of her jeans. She could feel it press against her, getting sticky against her skin as she breathed. Presley had warned her to stop obsessing. Matt had said it, too.