“I don’t know about this.” I watched Finn drop his duffle bag. Things jangled and clanked against each other as they hit the ground. He knelt down beside it and looked up at me with a smirk. His eyes glinted playfully in the light of the streetlamp. I shuddered, not knowing if my discomfort was caused by his look or the chilly nighttime air.

“What’s the problem, Aubree?” he asked. “You scared?”

I scoffed. “No, of course not. I’m just . . . unsure.”

“Well, you were sure this morning when you thought of it.”

“I was just joking!”

When I suggested that we sneak into our rival school and steal their mascot before the game tomorrow night, I didn’t think he would actually take me up on the offer. It wasn’t even an offer, really, just a thought. I couldn’t believe we were actually doing it.

Clear Lake and Harbor View High Schools had been rivals for as long as anyone could remember. We weren’t really sure why we had such a rivalry. Maybe it was because our names were just different variations of the same thing, or maybe we just needed a rival because there were no other high schools in our county. Whatever the reason, this rivalry had been going on for years with no sign of stopping.

Every winter, when Clear Lake and Harbor View played basketball against each other, something huge always happened. This year, I decided that it was our turn to make something happen, since the seniors of Harbor View last year decided to pose as Clear Lake students for a day and make a mess of our hallways. I brought up the mascot idea, not taking myself seriously at all, and then Finn got this look in his eye—similar to the one he wore now—and said I was a genius.

Maybe the compliment was the reason I was there now in the freezing cold, watching Finn unzip his duffle bag. I’d had a crush on him since he moved to Clear Lake two years ago, shortly before he became the Finn Hamilton, the baseball star of the school.

“Trust me, Bree. This’ll be a night to remember,” he said.

“What have you got in there?” I asked, as the bag clanked under Finn’s hands.

“It’s my baseball stuff,” he answered. He took out a bat with Clear Lake’s emblem and mascot (Truman the Fighting Trout . . . how intimidating) and tossed it aside.

“It’s not baseball season,” I pointed out.

He paused and stared at me. “Duh, Sherlock. This is the only duffle bag I had that could possibly fit a lobster costume in it, and even then, you’ll probably have to carry the head and claws.” The bag now emptied of baseball gear, Finn stood and glanced over me. “Well, maybe we’ll have to come back for the claws because they’re bigger than you.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly shy of my appearance. “Yeah, well,” I didn’t really have any comebacks, so I said, “baseball is stupid.”

He chuckled and walked toward the dark school. I mentally kicked myself. Fumbling after him, I asked, “Do we even know where they keep the mascot?”

“Well, if I were to guess, it’s probably in the locker room. Harbor View is just naïve enough to leave it laying out.” He walked through the remarkably unlocked door, seemingly unfazed by the darkness. Once over the threshold of enemy territory, Finn turned to me and held out a pair of gloves. “Here, put these on. We can’t be too careful.”

I took the gloves from him and regarded them warily before stuffing them in my back pocket. “Finn, we’re not in an episode of CSI. We don’t need gloves. Do you really think Harbor View will dust for fingerprints?” I didn’t really subscribe to the whole “put-down-the-rival-team” trope, but Harbor View wasn’t exactly known for turning out brain surgeons.

“Maybe not,” Finn agreed with a shrug, “but the Finn-Man does not need to go to jail again.”

I paused as he walked on. So he’d heard the rumors being spread about him, but there was something in his tone that suggested he wasn’t joking. I opened my mouth to question him further, but he called to me, “Let’s go, Bree! The sooner we get in, the sooner we get out.”

I ran to catch up with him and practically had to keep running to match his long strides. The dude was tall and lanky, almost two of me in height.

I’d never been to Harbor View High before, except for the occasional away games I attended. Even then, I’d never been inside the school. He walked—I jogged—down a hallway illuminated by the street lights a few yards away, shining through the long wall of windows. On the other side were lockers that I supposed were red, Harbor View’s colors.

We went through double doors at the end of the hallway and were met with two sets of stairs, one leading up and the other down. Without pausing, Finn went down. I followed with wide eyes. “How do you know where we’re going?” I asked.

This time, he did pause, and my heart sped up. He didn’t have his normal teasing look, and he didn’t meet my eyes when he said, “I used to go here. Right before I came to Clear Lake.” Then, he shrugged and continued on.

Man, this was becoming a night of revelations. “So,” I whisper-yelled, “you’ve been to jail, and you used to go to Harbor View? Anything else you’d like to tell me? Do you only have three toes on one foot or something?”

He sighed softly. “Why are you whispering?” His voice was normal, but it echoed off the walls of the winding staircase.

Why was I whispering? No one was around. I supposed the “goody two-shoes, never-does-any-wrong” girl in me was terrified of getting caught. It often warred with the people-pleasing side of me. In this case, the people-pleasing side won, as I was now committing theft with Finn.

“You’re avoiding my questions!” 

He finally stopped at what I assumed was the locker room door, turned around, and gave me that smirk of his. “Your questions hint at a story for another time, doll. Right now, we’ve got a lobster to steal.”

He opened the door and, sure enough, the lobster costume was resting in plain sight, laid out on one of the benches. The parts were all lined up, resembling how they would be assembled on a human body. It almost seemed like a shame to disturb them.

“Why were all the doors unlocked?” I asked, again whispering, as Finn slung his duffle bag off his shoulder. He began to stuff the lobster into it, starting with the body.

“They barely lock anything,” he said as he worked. “You going to help me or not?”

Startled into action, I picked up the claws and handed them to him. (He was right—they were bigger than me.)

“Bree,” he said, looking from the claws to me with a deadpan expression, “you know these aren’t going in the bag. You’re going to have to carry them.”

I shrugged and then put the claws on my hands because that was the easiest way to carry them both.

“How are we going to fit the head in, then, if the claws won’t go in?” I eyed the humongous, grinning lobster head.

Finn picked it up and twirled it around, contemplating for a moment. Then, he abruptly plopped it down on my head.

Forgetting myself, I yelled, “FINN! Why did you just do that?!” I tried to pry the head off, but with the claws covering my hands, it was near impossible. I eventually just gave up and let my arms fall to my sides. “You're the worst,” I said with a sigh, even while his laugh echoed in my ears.

“Aw, come on, Bree. You have to admit it’s pretty funny. Besides, I’m the only one of us who knows my way around here. Just give me your claw, and I’ll get us out of here.”

I stuck my claws out for him and gave Finn the lead.