Secret of the Sevens (28 page)

Fifty

I'm sitting in an interview room just off the main hall of the police station. The clock reads 7:04 p.m. Which means I've been in the same gray plastic chair since I gave my first statement almost nine hours ago.

I'm so exhausted, I can barely lift my throbbing head off the cinder-block wall behind me. My arms ache from holding them up in the tunnels. The insides of my hands are sliced and bruised from climbing out the wall vent, and my ankle kills from the fall afterward.

I don't know if I have a single friend left at Singer. I'm not even sure the Shanahans will take me back. The only thing I am certain of is that Dad Shanahan is gonna kick my ass for putting Delaney in danger.

Other than that, I feel pretty damn good.

Laney sits in another windowed conference room across the hall, talking with Katherine and her parents. I've watched her yell, cry, frown, and shake her head for almost two hours. But now, something new. She stands and hugs Katherine. After a minute, she hugs her parents even tighter. She slowly turns toward the door and catches me watching her.

I tug my ear, and she laughs.

Katherine opens the door. Her eyes are puffy and red-ringed, but she's smiling too. She tells Laney's parents, “Let's finish the paperwork so we can get the kids out of here.”

Katherine's acting as our attorney now. The Shanahans follow her to the front desk, and Laney trudges into my room and crashes in the chair next to mine. She rubs her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder.

“You all right?”

“Yeah,” she says. “We still have a ton of talking to do, but I think it'll be okay.”

“Katherine seems nice,” I say. “Not to mention incredibly smart. In the last ten hours, she's managed to get all my charges dropped, Kane and the Pillars have been arrested, and Jose and Emily will both be back by tonight.”

Laney lifts her head. “And Headmaster Boyle?”

“Free and clear. He left with the detectives a few hours ago to gather evidence at the cemetery.” I nod toward Katherine. “Your birth mom is quite the overachiever. Sound familiar?”

Laney smiles. She slips her arm through mine and leans her head on my shoulder again.

“So I've gotta ask you,” I say. “How did you get away from Cameron?”

“I kicked him in the crotch.” She snickers. “Reeeeally hard.”

I kiss the top of her head. This time, it feels totally right. “Have I mentioned how much badass girls turn me on? Although what you did sort of terrifies me too.”

Voices emerge outside our doorway. Good Cop walks past, followed by Iman Kabal. Iman stops when he sees us.

“At least it's over,” he says.

“Thanks, man,” I tell him. “What you did took guts.”

“Look who's talking.”

Good Cop tugs Iman away, but another face replaces his in the doorway. Headmaster Boyle.

Laney smirks and says, “Hello, Uncle.”

“What did you call him?”

“Katherine and Headmaster Boyle are brother and sister,” she says, like I've missed a homework assignment. “Turns out he's my uncle.”

Boyle sidles in with our jackets. “Get up. Someone wants to talk to you.” Smiling, he tosses our coats to us, and we follow him out.

Twenty minutes later, we're entering the critical care unit of the Galesburg Memorial Hospital. Boyle stops outside a door. “I need to prepare you before you go in. Kollin looks pretty awful. His prognosis is positive, but he's been through hell.”

We nod and Boyle opens the door for us.

Laney and I teeter in, edging between monitors and machines toward Kollin's bedside. Emily and Jose stand on the opposite side of his bed, holding hands.

Laney looks down at Kollin's battered, swollen face and swallows hard. Between the pillows and pads, Kollin's eyes blink open.

“Le Douche,” I say, “you losing weight or something?
You look better than usual.” I lean over the railing so he can see me easier. “So how you doing, buddy?”

“Worse now that you're here,” he mumbles. He takes a moment to catch his breath, and then says softly, “I heard we did it.” He tries to raise his fisted hand for me to bump, but before I can meet it with mine, his arm drops weakly to the mattress.

I reach down and squeeze his fingers instead. “Yeah … we did it.”

His eyes drift to my hand holding his. A corner of his mouth lifts. “Quit hitting on me, Michaels,” he murmurs. “I already told you, you aren't my type.”

We laugh, but Kollin grimaces in pain.

Boyle moves to the foot of his bed. “Kollin needs his rest, so I'll make this quick. There's a few things I need to share and we'll go.”

He looks at all of us. “First, I'm proud of you. I had no idea it would get this dangerous, or I wouldn't have involved you.” His gaze lingers on me. “I just knew in my gut that you had what it took to be Sevens.

“And, second.” Boyle crosses his arms. “The officers just finished inventorying Mary Singer's original gravesite. One investigator estimated that there's tens of millions in
gold.” He rests his hands on the metal footboard and leans forward. “As Sevens, as well as interim trustees, you'll have a say in what to do with that money.”

Emily speaks up. “I think we should expand Singer and get some kids off that waiting list … beginning with Jose's brother.”

“And cover Kollin's medical bills,” Jose says.

A breathy Kollin adds, “And help Emily.”

“Right,” Delaney finishes for him. “So she can go to college and make a better life for herself and her daughter.”

We all nod.

“Well, how about for you two?” Boyle focuses on Laney and me. “Do you have a greatest desire we should consider?”

“I'm good,” I say. “I think Mr. Singer would want his Sevens' money spent in service to others. You know, with him being all into that virtues crap and stuff.”

Laney leans away from me. “Talan Michaels,” she says, “who knew that all this time, deep down, you were a brainiac do-gooder?” Before I can argue, she raises her hand. “I did.”

Headmaster Boyle straightens up and moves toward the door. “That's very noble of you all. But technically, Katherine and I are also trustees, and we've decided that all five of you will be receiving generous scholarships as well as money for expenses.” He turns as he opens the door. “Because
we
knew William Singer better than anyone. And we're quite certain that's exactly how he'd want his Sevens' money spent.” Boyle slaps my back before walking out.

For the first time ever, I imagine what college would
be like. Where should I go? What the heck do I want to be?

Laney pulls me aside and flashes me a tired grin. She snuggles into me, and I wrap my arm around her. Her hand travels to my chest, stopping directly over the scar on my heart. She slowly lifts her eyes to mine and says, “All this time, you were wrong, Michaels … the S was for Sevens.”

I kiss her smile with my own and whisper in her ear, “Don't you mean Sherlock?”

Acknowledgments

First, to my sons Tyler and Austin (aka Wild Thing 1 and Wild Thing 2): you are the loves of my life. Thank you for your outrageous escapades and crazy antics, which provided me with material for this book (and a million more). Now
KNOCK IT OFF FOR GOD'S SAKE, YOU'RE KILLING ME
.

Thanks to my cyber-sister and writing ally, the phenomenally talented Genevieve Wilson. Please never show anyone my crappy first stories, and I won't show them your snarky emails.

Thanks to my agent, Katherine Boyle, who taught me like a mentor and treated me like a friend.

Thanks to the top-notch team at Flux: Editor Extraordinaire Brian Farrey-Latz, Sandy Whoisamazing Sullivan, and Mallory “You're not bothering me” Hayes.

Thanks to talented critique partners who helped with various chapters of the Sevens: Karla Gomez, Helene Dunbar, Dawn Alexander, and Alexandra O'Connor.

What would I be without my young YA readers? Especially the amazingly funny and cool Jenny Manzo, who's read every cruddy story I ever wrote and swore it was wonderful. Thanks also to Dom Guzaldo, Mallory Hayes Stoffregen, Julia Theisen, and my sweet goddaughter Jillian Manzo (you rock).

Thanks to legal eagle Tony Schrank, for sharing his time and expertise to help me work out my (deed of) trust issues.

Thank you to Frank Manzo, a walking Wikipedia of useful facts, for sharing your vast knowledge of everything from philanthropic boarding schools funded by corporate entities to board room etiquette. (And he makes the best beer, too.)

Thanks to Heather Foy, for making me laugh though the humiliation also known as my author headshot.

Special thanks to Scott Ahrens, Director of Residential Living at Mooseheart School and Child City, who generously shared facts and stories about the school he is clearly devoted to. Your passion for the kids at Mooseheart inspired the setting and characters for The Sevens. We owe a debt to you and all educators and administrators who dedicate themselves to lifting our kids up.

And lastly, I'd like to thank my friends and family who helped me overcome the difficult year when the
Sevens
was being pitched and published. I'd never have made it into the lifeboat without you. Much love to my handholders: DJ and Scott Susta, Jodi and Joe Stelmachowski, Frank and Margo Manzo, Mark and Marylou Manzo, Dawn and Jim Schrank, Danette and Mike Moffatt, Carol and John Kirk, Kristy DeSanti, Cindy Prost, Leanna Wahlen, Pam (and Mike) Van Treeck, Helen Zagoren, Mark Claypool (for your website input and generous heart), Laurie Christensen, the Karger clan, Lorene (and Brian) Coffey, and the Dominguez Family. You'll never know how much your kindness meant to me. Which is why I'm telling you in my acknowledgements now…

And finally, thanks to (insert your name here if I missed you. I'm so sorry. You know my memory is crap. I promise to add you on the reprint).

About the Author

Lynn Lindquist lives in a suburb of Chicago with two overly social sons and a mutt named Slugger, who wisely hides under the bed most days. The hordes of teen­agers that regularly frequent her house (think Panama City Beach during Spring Break) provide fodder for her young adult novels and growing anxiety disorder. Ever since her sons broke the Guinness Record for Largest-Rager-Thrown-While-a-Parent-Was-Out-for-the-Night, she prefers spending her free time at home entertaining friends, cooking, reading, and writing. Thankfully, her favorite things in life are her sons, words, and kids, so she wouldn't have it any other way.