Secret of the Sevens (25 page)

Forty-five

My holding cell is six by eight feet, with three brick walls, a cage door, and a stainless steel toilet in one corner. I can see Jose in his cell, caddy-corner from me, but we're too far apart to talk privately. Neither of us has spoken since we were arrested four hours ago.

Coach Gaspari told the police that it looked like we were putting clothes and spray paint in some football bags. We say nothing. God knows I've already done enough damage opening my stupid mouth.

Sergeant Lynch unlocks my cell door. “Your bail's been paid. Your attorney is waiting at the front desk.”

As I follow him down the hall, Lynch tells Jose, “You're going to be a while. Your houseparents just got ahold of your mother and she's going to need some time to arrange bail.”

Jose grimaces at the mention of his mom, and I feel like crap. So much of this is my fault. Why'd I get involved in the first place?

As I step out of the holding area, I see Mr. and Mrs. Shanahan sitting at a desk, being interviewed by a detective. I can read their thoughts from their faces. They're angry and stunned and sick to their stomachs. Something inside me breaks when Mom's eyes well. My days at Singer are over and we both know it.

That's why I had to make a new plan for myself.

That's why I walk straight past them without saying a word.

That's why I didn't use my one phone call on them.

Dad catches my sleeve as I pass by. “Where you going, son?”

But I'm not his son anymore. I knew it'd be over eventually. I need to cut ties while I can still protect them. “I'm eighteen,” I say. “I'm a legal adult. I don't have to tell you anything, and I don't need you here.”

Mom looks like I slapped her. When Dad grabs my arm, I peel his hand away and plod over to the front desk, where Stephen Kane waits with a stack of papers.

“You won't be sorry,” Kane says. “Making a deal with me is the smartest thing you ever did.”

I'm sickened by my own words: “Just get me the money and I'll give you that document.”

“I told you, Michaels. You and I have a lot in common.”

“And leave the Sevens alone,” I remind him. “We do this my way, or no TPD. You still don't know who the other Sevens are. You cross me, and I'll let the other Sevens turn that TPD in at the board meeting.”

“Just so there's no confusion”—Kane repeats what I told him on the phone—“you want fifty thousand dollars and a limo to the airport, in exchange for the TPD by 8:00 a.m. tomorrow?”

“And you stop hassling my friends.”

Kane's lawyer appears at my side. She looks down her nose at me. “I'm Katherine Jones. I'll be representing you as your attorney. You're to say nothing until we talk privately. Did they read you your rights?”

I nod.

“Stephen, let his houseparents know that he's being released into your custody. I need to sign some papers so we can get out of here.”

Kane walks back to the Shanahans, while Katherine takes her paperwork to the clerk.

I look around and see Laney watching me from the waiting room, tugging her ear. I need to get rid of her before Kane sees her. When I'm sure no one's looking, I hurry over toward her and pull her into a doorway, out of sight. “You need to go away. Now! Before Kane sees you.”

“What's going on? What happened? The police searched your room and found the skull in your vent.” Laney is talking a mile a minute. “They told Mom and Dad you were caught planting evidence in Marcus' and Jake's bags. Marcus was so pissed, he totally narced you out for everything.”

“Did Marcus mention anything about you?”

“No, but he's so hurt. He thinks you tried to set him up.”

“Everyone leaves me eventually. I'm better off this way.”

“Better off what way?”

“It's over. I cut a deal with Kane. I told him I'd get him the TPD if he agreed to bail me out and give me enough money to leave town.”

“What are you saying? What about the Sevens?”

“There's nothing we can do now,” I say. “We have no idea where the TPD is and that board meeting is tomorrow morning. It's best to keep quiet. Kane still has no idea about you. You have a bright future and you'll graduate before the school goes to hell next year. They're still going to need houseparents, but if you piss Kane off, he'll be more than happy to fire your mom and dad. Don't blow it all for nothing. I'm taking care of myself. You need to do the same.”

Laney's voice trembles. “Where will you go?”

“I'll make a fresh start somewhere. I'll have enough money to take my time and figure things out. That's all I ever really wanted out of this in the first place. The money. Kane will set me up good. In eight months, you'll be in college and I'll be on a beach somewhere and we'll both be happy. That's all that matters.”

“No it isn't, and you know it.”

“It's over, Laney.”

“No!”

“Yes! The Sevens are finished. Kollin's dying, Jose is
behind bars, Emily's been sent home, and Headmaster
Boyle's career has been destroyed … it's over.”

“You said you loved me that night in the mausoleum.” Her eyes brim with tears. “How can you just leave?”

I've got to convince her. “'Cause that's what people do, Delaney. They leave.” I peek around the corner and see Katherine scooping up the paperwork. I make sure to stare deep into Laney's eyes. “It's over,” I say firmly.

I slip back into the lobby, leaving her standing there alone.

Don't look back. Keep walking. It was going to end eventually.

I join Kane and Katherine at the front desk.

“You'll be spending the night with me,” Kane says. “Well, mainly with Katherine. I have an appointment with my banker to withdraw your money. Maybe you could take Katherine to get the TPD while I'm gone.”

“No way,” I say. “I expect to see the money and a limo waiting with the door open before I hand that to you.”

“Fine.” He looks me up and down. “But don't try anything. I'll be setting the alarm system in case you're thinking of running. I already added extra security all over campus for the board meeting tomorrow. You couldn't run ten feet without being caught, not with the entire student body and staff turned against you. And if you try, there'll be no one to bail you out next time.”

“You keep your end of the deal,” I say, “and I'll take care of mine.”

Forty-six

Kane's chauffeur drops us off at the headmaster's residence. “Wait here,” Kane tells his driver. “I'll be out in a few minutes.”

Katherine and I follow him to the room with the fireplace. She tosses her coat and briefcase on the couch, and Kane points to a dial pad on the wall.

“See that?” he tells me. “This burglar alarm is wired for every door and window in this residence. If you even think of escaping, Security will be on you before you can say
prison sentence
. I'm not sure how long I'll be, but Katherine's been kind enough to keep you company in my absence.”

There goes my plan to run for the mausoleum.

Kane keys a code into the keypad. “This gives me thirty seconds to leave the house,” he explains to Katherine. “Then it sounds an alarm the instant a door or window is opened. Be careful not to accidentally set it off.”

He bolts for the door and slams it behind himself.

Katherine crosses her arms and stares me down. “I must say I'm surprised. Stephen was right about you all along.” She circles around me, eyeing me with disdain, and I feel like that dirty kindergartner all over again. “You
are
like him. I told him you'd be a problem, but he was convinced you'd look out for yourself in the end.”

The words sting like venom. I'm
not
like Kane. We had similar childhoods, but
I am not like him.

“I need to make some calls,” she says. “We have an important meeting in the morning, you know. I trust that you heard what Stephen said. Attempting to escape through a window or door guarantees your return to jail. This time, without our help.”

I nod.

“I would stay and babysit you, but there's some kind of rodent infestation in this part of the house.” She points to the fireplace. “I think something's got a nest in there. I heard a strange squeaking earlier.”

Squeaking from the fireplace?
I try to keep a poker face.

“You might be used to living in that kind of squalor with your background,” she says, “but it makes me ill just thinking about it.”

After Katherine takes her briefcase and heads upstairs, I rush to the fireplace. I push on the interior wall and it moves slightly.

When I hear her talking on the phone, I shove the sidewall hard, shift the fireplace over, and clamber through. Just as quickly, I close it and latch the bottom hinges. I'm out of breath, wheezing from exhilaration and fear.

I have ten hours to find that TPD.

I descend the rungs and run all the way to the secret room beneath the statue.

The light flashes on and Mr. Singer's poem appears like a ghost on the wall. When I step forward, my foot hits something that rolls away, rattling. I jump back. The can of spray paint I tossed down the stairs a few nights ago comes to a stop inches from the pile of papers we stashed here.

I pick up the can, and it reminds me of the heart graffiti in the tunnel. I can still picture Laney tearing up over that. I get it now—it was her parent's initials in that heart. Her dad, who was murdered, and her mom, who she'll never know now. My chest tightens when I think of Laney hurting and alone.

I guess Kollin was right. I do love Delaney Shanahan. If only I could have told her that when I said goodbye. If
I don't find that TPD, her last memory of me will be how
I
abandoned
her
.

With a shaky hand, I lift the can and spray-paint a heart on the wall. Inside it, I write:

TM
LOVES
DS

A voice emerges from the stairwell. “Like hell we're done.”

My hand flies to my chest and I drop the can. My breath hitches until I see who's standing at the stairs.

“Laney, what are you doing here? … And did you just
swear
?”

“I came looking for you, Michaels.” Laney leans against the doorframe. “I knew you'd never bail on the Sevens. Or me. You're a lot of things, but you never let your friends down. I also know how stubborn you are. You'd never let Kane get away with this.”

“How'd you know I'd be here?”

She steps down off the last step. “I didn't. I knew you left with Kane, so I came to spy on him to make sure you were okay.”

“So you're the one who unlatched the fireplace door?”

Her head tilts. “No. I just got here. Was it open? Is that how you escaped?”

I nod.

She straightens up. “Oh man, Kane's gonna lose it when he sees you're gone.” She rubs her neck. “I'm scared, Talan. We're almost out of time. What if we don't find that TPD?”

“I'll find it. You need to get home. Your parents already hate me. They don't need any more headaches.”

She moves closer. “They don't hate you. They didn't buy the whole
Talan is a villain
act either. But they couldn't figure out why you had the skull in your vent and what you were doing putting spray paint in Jake and Marcus' bags. I just wish we could tell them.”

“You need to get back.”

“Forget it. We're a team. I told them I'd explain everything tomorrow night. I figure we'll have our answer either way by then.”

“And they let you go?”

“Well … not exactly.” She gnaws her thumbnail. “I left them a note.”

“You what?”

“I reminded them how they told me I had to trust them when I asked them about my mom. Now
they
have to trust
me.
I wrote that I'd be away overnight and warned them that if they called the police or told anyone I was gone, they'd be putting me in danger.”

“So basically, if we make it through this, your father's gonna kill me anyhow?”

She laughs, and I swear I feel a thousand times better than I have all week. She steps toward Mr. Singer's poem taped to the wall. “Emily explained how you figured out that this is our last clue.”

“Yeah, but I still haven't been able to solve it. I've read it a thousand times. Something's not right about it, but I can't figure out what.”

Laney turns completely around and says, “Well, it was genius, Tal.” She pauses, then jumps up and kisses me.

“Wow,” I say. “A ‘good job' would have been enough.”

“No it wouldn't.” She cranes her neck to the side and points to the wall behind me. “Nice heart.”

I'm mute. I don't want say something that'll wreck the smile on her lips.

She stares straight into my eyes. “It's mutual.”

“But that night … why didn't you say anything when I confessed how I felt?”

She glides her hands to my shoulders. “I was scared. You know what Mom said. If she caught us, you'd get sent away. After you finally opened up and told me how afraid you were of that, how could I risk hurting you? I didn't know what to do. I took a vow of sacrifice—how could I risk making you homeless just because I liked you? I thought you understood that. I thought that was why you said you'd wait.”

“So you
do
like me?”

“You figured out all those complicated clues and missed something so obvious? I guess that makes me Sherlock after all.”

She blushes and gets all quiet. I know she wants me to kiss her but I'm suddenly tweaking with nerves. I've done this a hundred times, but they all just seem like practice for this one girl.

While I'm overthinking it, she grabs my collar and pulls me down for a kiss. Our noses bump. We turn our heads the same way and they bump again.

She rubs my cheek with her thumb. “Nothing's easy for us, is it?”

“No, but you know what they taught us,” I whisper. “If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.”

She laughs, and we slide right into this amazing kiss. My arms bundle her close and she tightens her hug around my neck. I'm caught up in all of it, until Laney eventually pulls back so we can catch our breath.

“Wow,” she says.

I lean my forehead against hers. “I guarantee I won't forget
that
kiss.”

She hugs me and whispers in my ear, “Maybe we better focus on the clue.”

I nod, but I'm not ready to let go. I rest my chin on her shoulder.

She says softly, “Talan? What happens to us if we don't find that TPD? What's going to happen to you?”

I stare over her shoulder at the poem that's been stuck in my brain lately like an annoying song I can't shake. Laney plants a kiss on my neck. The poem goes fuzzy in my brain.

I refocus, but Laney kisses me again, just below my ear.

“Well, call me Sherlock,” I say.

“What?” she mumbles, kissing me a third time.

“Call me Sherlock,” I say slower.

It figures that when I finally hook up with Delaney Shanahan, I have to stop in the middle of it. I muster enough strength to nudge her back and look her in the eyes. “I figured it out, Delaney. I know what's different in the poem.”

My smile is too much to contain; it courses through me. I nod to the clue behind her. “It's the question.”

She drops her arms and spins around. Her gaze hopscotches over the paper:

“ A prudent question is one half of wisdom.”
Dwell on this for your last test,
When you're on your own, and all alone,
Beginning your final quest.

Knowledge is gained through fact compilation;
But wisdom is born in its simplification.
Columns and half clues to find and combine.
Words that are letters read between the lines.
Use all you've learned, and you'll solve the last clue.
Your founder was wise
In deed,
Are you?

She shrugs. “You mean ‘A prudent question is one half of wisdom?'”

“No. The question.”

“What question?”

I walk around her and point to the last two lines. “The question at the end. We've seen it in so many of the clues, we sort of ignore it now. The part where Singer wrote
Your founder was wise in deed, are you?
Look how he spelled it. It's
in deed
. Two words. Not
indeed
, like all the other times. That's our clue. Singer was saying there's wisdom
in
the Deed of Trust.”

Laney stares at the poem. “Huh …
Your founder was wise in deed, are you?
” There's a gleam in her eyes. “Wait a minute.”

Her back stiffens and her eyes rise to the top of the poem. “Talan,
that's
the prudent question Mr. Singer was talking about all along! That's why he repeated it so many times.
Your founder was wise in deed, are you?
is the question that's ‘one half of wisdom.' The Deed of Trust is a half clue. Which can only mean that—”

“We apply the clues we've learned to the deed to find the TPD.”

Laney points to the poem on the wall. “Singer even told us which clues to use,” she says. “Columns and half clues, words that are messages, and reading between the lines.”

I drop to my knees and rummage through the papers on the floor, pulling out the deed we stole from Boyle's house the night of the justice test. “I told LeBeau we'd need this.”

The mention of his name extinguishes the grin from Laney's face.

“They're bringing him out of his coma in the morning.” Her eyes glisten. “I don't know if you heard that. By tomorrow afternoon, we'll know if he's going to be okay.”

Guilt burns like poison in my gut. “Maybe you should be home tomorrow morning, waiting for word with your parents.”

“No.” Her head swings slow from side to side. “This is where Kollin would want me to be.”

“We need to find that TPD then. It'd the best get-well present we could give him.” I stand and flatten the deed against the wall next to Mr. Singer's poem. “Let's apply those clues to the deed and see what we get.”

She stands next to me and reviews the poem. “
Columns and half-clues
taught us to read the first letter going down for a message.
Words that are letters read between the lines
must mean we take every
other
letter going down, and then read them like words, like we did with the map key.”

Running her finger down the first page of the deed, Laney reads every other letter out loud. “D T P D S N D M T 2 M.”

I repeat it slower and sound out the obvious words: “The TPD is in the empty two M … Two M … Two M?”

“The empty tomb!” Laney screams, “The TPD is in the empty tomb!” She's jumping up and down like she just found the thing.

It almost kills me to say, “We're in the empty tomb, Lane. We all searched this whole place when we were looking for the tunnel entrance. Boyle said he searched too. I think someone would have found it by now if it was here. We're right back where we started.”

Just the same, we go up the stairs and probe every inch of the interior of the casket all over again. After that, we inspect every section of the walls and stairs and examine every corner of the secret room beneath it. It's been hours, and we've got nothing but the growing fear that time is running out.

Every second that passes reminds me that by this time tomorrow, I'll be homeless again. Or jailed. Or worse, if Kane finds me.

Laney falls back against the wall and slides down to the floor, landing on the pile of velvet cloaks.

I huddle next to her and wrap an arm around her slumped shoulders. “Maybe if it we sit quiet for a while and think,” I say. But really, I just want to hold her as much as I can before I have to leave Singer forever.

I shudder at the thought, and Laney pulls up a loose cloak and wraps it around my shoulders. It takes me back to that time when we were little—the night I ran away in the storm, when she wrapped her coat around me.