Morgan said, glaring at me in the attic, in the harsh light of that bare bulb. She only spoke that one word, but it contained a whole dictionary's worth of disappointment. "What are you--?" I had been starting to ask her what she had been doing there, in the dark, in the attic, in the middle of the night. But I knew. There was only one explanation. She had been waiting. She had probably planned to wait up here all night long, in between her spot checks. She had been trying to catch whoever was climbing out through the window in the middle of the night. It figured it was Mrs. Morgan, the strictest counselor in the house. Why couldn't it have been Leon? I thought about lying, about saying that I had come up to the attic because I couldn't sleep. Or that I thought I'd heard someone up here, and that I'd come up to check it out. But there was no chance that Mrs. Morgan would believe me. I was standing by an open window with a coil of rope in my hands. If I tried to lie now, I knew I'd just piss her off more.
