“Don’t worry about it,” Lia tells me. “Kaufman knows it’s a pain to get to her class, so she doesn’t sweat it.”
But she does pick up the pace—after giving Flint one last look that’s a cross between a snarl and a smirk.
I follow her, leaving Flint to bring up the rear, as I figure we’ll all do better with me as a buffer between them. For the first time since last night, when Macy tried to explain that I can’t be friends with both Jaxon and Flint, I actually start to believe her. Lia’s obviously Team Jaxon despite whatever I witnessed between them the other day, and look how well this little excursion is going.
We’re moving fast through the tunnels now, so I don’t get to check them out the way I really want to. Still, the recessed lighting, dim as it might be, gives me at least a decent view of where I’m walking. And I have to say, terrifying entrance notwithstanding, these things are freaking cool.
The walls are made entirely of different-colored stones—mostly white and black, but there are colored stones, too. They gleam red and blue and green even in the faint light, and I can’t help reaching out to touch one of the bigger ones, just to see what it feels like. Cool, obviously, but also smooth, polished, like a gemstone. For a second, I wonder if that’s what they are. But then I dismiss it as ridiculous, because what school （even a fancy, rich one like Katmere Academy） has the money to embed gemstones in the walls?
The floor is made of white brick, as are a bunch of the columns we pass as we walk. But what really gets me is the art that is down here—bone-like sculptures embedded in the walls, hanging from the ceiling, even resting on pedestals in various alcoves along the way.
It’s an obvious homage to the Paris catacombs, where seven million skeletons are laid to rest—or used for macabre decorations throughout. And I can’t help wondering if the school’s art classes added the “bone” sculptures to the tunnels here. I also want to know what art supplies the bones are really made of.
But trying to figure that out has to wait, too, if I have any hope of making it to art class even close to on time.
As we follow the tunnel, we get to a kind of rotunda-type room that pretty much has my eyes bugging out of my head. It’s obviously a main hub for the tunnels, because eleven other tunnels feed into it as well. But that’s not what has my eyes going wide, even though I have no idea which of the other tunnels we should take.
No, what has my mouth falling open and my eyes pretty much bugging out of my head is the giant chandelier hanging in the center of the room, unlit candles at the end of each arm. But it’s not the size of the chandelier or the fact that there are actual candles in it that catches my attention （although, fire code, anyone?）。 It’s the fact that the chandelier, like so many of the other decorations down here, looks to be made entirely of human bones.
I know it’s just art, and the bones are made of plastic or whatever, but they sure look realistic hanging off the chandelier—so much so that a chill creeps down my spine. This is more than an homage to the catacombs. It’s like someone actually tried to re-create them.
“Why are you stopping?” Flint asks, following my gaze.
“This is bizarre. You know that, right?”
He grins. “A little bit. But it’s also cool, isn’t it?”
“Totally cool.” I step farther into the room to get a better look. “I wonder how long it took. I mean, it had to be a class art project, right? Not just one student.”
“Art project?” Flint looks confused.
“We don’t know,” Lia interjects. “It was done years before we got here—years before your uncle or any of the other current teachers got here, too. But yeah, it had to be a class project. No way one artist could do all this in a semester or even a year.”
“It’s amazing. I mean, so elaborate and lifelike. Or…you know what I mean.”
She nods. “Yeah.”
There are more bones above each of the tunnels, as well as plaques bearing inscriptions in a language I don’t recognize. One of the Alaskan languages, I’m sure, but I want to know which one. So I take out my phone and snap a pic of the closest plaque, figuring I’ll google it along with the cottage names.
“We need to go,” Flint says as I start to take a second pic. “Class is starting.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” I glance around as I shove my phone back in my blazer pocket. “Which tunnel are we taking?”
“The third one to the left,” Lia says.