Secret of the Sevens (5 page)

Seven

Laney slinks out the mausoleum door and starts running. I rush out and sprint alongside her like we're in some kind of race.

When we finally reach the woods, I check over my shoulder and feel a rush of relief that no one is following us. “Okay, Laney, slow down. We can talk now.”

My brain is buzzing from everything that's happened, whirling with images of secret handshakes, crazy dares, and wild parties. What'd that invite say again? Something about money?

Suddenly, I'm smiling.

Laney stops and says, “What do you think happens next? What do you suppose they want from us?”

Yeah, right. She's asking me?
I shrug. “While this sounds cool, we can't be certain it's real. I mean, it could still be a prank. Right?”

Her gaze traps mine. “Trust me on this, it isn't. For one thing, it's too involved. Who would go to the trouble of getting invitations and wax seals? How would they know about the slit under the angel's fingers? And how does a kid get the school secretary to authorize a pass and open the science labs on the first day of class?”

“Is that where you got your invitation? Mine was in Hadley Hall.”

“Whatever. The point is, a normal student couldn't pull this off.”

“Yeah, but one of the Pillars—”

“None of the Pillars are smart enough.” Her fingers thrum the strap of her backpack. “Plus, they'd never risk everything they have now on a joke. Remember what happened when Headmaster Boyle overheard those lacrosse players talking about starting a secret society? They got suspended for a week, and they didn't even do anything.”

“I know.” I study the little vertical lines between her eyes. “Which is why I'm shocked you're going along with this. You're usually such a rule-follower.”

“Yeah? Well look where that got me.” There's an anger in her eyes I haven't seen since I put her training bra on the statue of George Washington in the quad.

“Is that why you're doing this? 'Cause you're pissed about the Pillar thing?”

“There's a lot of reasons. You know, maybe I'm sick of being a goody-goody. Maybe I want a little adventure.”

“Delaney Shanahan, a badass? I don't buy it.” I laugh and her spine stiffens. “You're too much of a good girl.”

“Good girls can be badasp, too.”

“Oh please. You can't make a move without checking in the Perfect Handbook.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“You play everything so safe. Perfect daughter, perfect student, perfect grades, perfect behavior. Even your boyfriend is perfect. Perfectly boring, too.”

She crosses her arms. “So I'm playing it safe with a ‘perfectly boring' boyfriend, huh? Look who's talking. What's so brave about bouncing from girl to girl? It's disgusting how you use them. I think
you're
scared—you can't handle getting serious.”

“I've never used a girl in my life. I
never
lie and I
never
lead them on. I always tell them the truth up front: I'm not interested in a relationship. Unlike you and that yawn you call a boyfriend.”

“I'm done.” Laney whips around and stomps away. “Just because we joined the Sevens together doesn't mean I have to put up with your crap.”

“No, wait.” I tug her back. “I'm sorry. Really. This whole thing happened so fast, I'm still trying to process everything. Please? I need to ask you something.”

She turns slowly, her fists clenched against her hips.

“What did the invitation say about a ‘great reward' again? Something about using the Society's resources to fulfill our greatest desire?”

She looks like she drank lemon juice. “It figures that's all you care about. Always looking out for number one.”

“If I don't, who will?”

Laney rolls her eyes. “I'm tired, and I don't want to talk about this anymore. I'm going home.”

I hold her still. “Just answer me. Do you think they
could
mean money? I know that Singer shared his fortune and secrets with the Sevens, at least until they got greedy and killed him. And you said yourself that the police thought the Sevens stole the missing money.”

Laney shoves me aside. “I told you that was just a theory,” she snaps. “Nothing was ever proven.”

She storms off, and I jog to catch up. “So why are
you
doing this, then? Why would you risk getting expelled? You think it'll make you rich and famous or something?”

“God Talan, we've been housemates half our lives and that's how little you know me? Right … rich and famous, that's me. I'm all into the superficial.”

“Then what is it?”

She hurries on, avoiding my eyes. “Let's just say I'm curious.” The minute I open my mouth, she interrupts. “So why are
you
doing it, Tal? You owe someone a lot of money or something? I thought you were convinced this was some kind of joke.”

I rub the back of my neck. “I have no idea what this is about. But I have a feeling it's gonna be trouble.”

“Then why'd you return your invitation?”

“I don't mind trouble. And I definitely wouldn't mind a little cash.”

Delaney sulks and walks on. She gets so quiet I can hear the twigs crunching beneath our steps.

“So … have you told Kollin?” I ask.

She glances sideways at me. “Of course not. I'm sworn to secrecy.”

“You told
me
.” I give her a crooked smile.

“I didn't tell you.
You
told
me
. I ran away from you.”

“Oh yeah.”

She sighs, stops, and turns to me. “But I'm glad you did,” she confesses. “I've been a wreck since I got that invitation. I feel better going through this with someone.” There's a glint in her eyes when she adds, “Even if it's you.”

She drops her chin, chews her thumbnail for a few seconds, then lifts her wide eyes to mine. “What do you suppose they want from us, Talan?”

“Nothing much,” I tease. “Just our souls.”

Eight

A few weeks pass and we don't hear anything. The intensity of it all begins to fade and I'm starting to wonder if it was some sort of weird prank after all. Maybe that's a good thing. It's not like I don't have enough problems in my life already without a secret society with all-campus access stalking me.

It's five minutes before curfew on Wednesday night when Laney storms into the family room. Juan, Marcus, Jake, and I are huddled around the TV in the middle of a heated game of
Cyber Combat Zone.

“Talan,” she calls from the doorway. When I don't answer, she yells louder. “Talan!”

My eyes stay focused on the TV. “What?”

“You need to go to the computer room now.”

“Talan, look out,” Marcus says. “Jake's on the roof. Oooooooh. Nice shot.”

“Talan,” she shouts, “the computer room!”

“What?”

“You need to go on the computer. Now. So you can check your email.”

My eyes are riveted to the screen. “I don't need to check my email,” I say. There's a guy on the stairwell about to blow Marcus apart. My hand jerks the control. “Look out, look out!”

“Yes, you do!” Laney insists. “For that project we're working on together. For Solomon's class. He emailed our assignments.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'm in the middle of tenth level. Can this wait?”

Laney bolts over, shoving Jake aside to completely block the screen. Marcus moans, and I flip my controller to the ground. “What the heck, Shanahan? You screwed up our capture.”

I finally notice her bug-eyed glare. “We're in the same group, remember?” She picks up the controller and whips it in my direction. “There are seven assignments.
Seven.
Remember? Now get in there and print your email, you dumbash.”

Oh, right … something's happened. I hand my controller to Jake and jump up to follow her into the computer room.

Behind me, Marcus mumbles, “Remind me never to
take a class with Senile Solomon.”

Laney checks the hall before closing the door. She nudges me toward a computer. “I was googling articles on the Society of Seven tonight. Nothing came up except some lame '80s pop band, which I guess makes sense since it's a secret society.”

“Is that it? I'd like to finish this game before lights-out.”

She eyes me with disdain. “No, that's not ‘it.' I got an email from the Sevens. See if you got one too.”

A cold current zips down my spine. She pulls a chair out for me and watches out the door as I log in.

A single message appears:

To: [email protected]
From: Number 7

Dear Pledge:

You will be given seven tests to prove your worth and loyalty prior to your initiation into the Society of Seven.

Commit the following poem to memory. Your first test depends on it.

When darkness fills you up with fright,
Tread straight, straight, straight into the night.
Left, right, left—the soldier's pace—
Until it leads right to a place
Where everything you thought you knew,
Will turn around. And you will, too.
Left to sort what's wrong from right,
And why you're going to have to fight,
to take what's left
and make it right.

My fingers twitch on the keyboard as my heart pounds. It takes a minute to unscramble my thoughts.

Laney moves from her post and reads the email over my shoulder. “Yep, that's the same one I got.” She heads back to the door and says, “Print the poem and then delete the email.”

“So you think this is real?”

“Talan, how can you even question it at this point? Yes, it's real, and maybe once in your life you can be serious and step up. I know you're smart, but sometimes you really don't act like it.”

I'd have no problem stepping up if I knew what I was stepping up to.

I'm pulling my copy from the printer when Laney turns suddenly, waving her arms like a traffic cop. “Mom's coming.” She rushes to a desk at the opposite end of the room and fakes zipping her backpack closed.

Mom calls through the door, “Time for bed.”

I bury the paper deep in my pocket like I'm hiding heroin. It makes me think of my mother.

Nine

The next morning, I corner Laney by her locker before school. “Did you memorize the poem?”

She enters her combination. “Yep. Did you?”

“Yeah, but I'm still not sure about this, Laney. We do have friends who know both our email addresses.”

She cuts me off with a loud squeak and slams her locker closed again. “Talan, there's a black envelope inside my locker.”

My pulse racing, I scan the crowded hallway. “No one's looking. Open it.”

“Here?”

“No. In the women's bathroom. I'll follow you inside and we can read it together in a stall. I'm sure no one will notice us there.” I roll my eyes. “Yes, here. I'll be your lookout. Just open it.”

With her hands inside her locker, she slides a handwritten note out of the envelope. “If this is a prank, it's a great one. How'd they get this in here? The slots are too
narrow for it to fit through.”

I shrug and check the hall for prying eyes. “What's it say?”

She reads softly:

First Test
-
Courage:

“Courage is found in unlikely places.”
-
J.R.R. Tolkien

Time: This Evening, 7:00 P.M.

Place: Rear Elevator, First Floor, Jefferson Library.

1. Close with 2
2. Seven times the LL
3. Seven times the Help

She stares at it, then stuffs the paper inside her math book. “What the heck does that even mean?” The hallway's getting busier, so she leans close and whispers, “You should check if you got one. Maybe yours has different clues.”

Her lips graze my cheek, and I get the strangest rush. Out of nowhere, I imagine being kissed by those lips. And liking it.

“O-okay,” I mutter. “You wait here.”

My head is still buzzing as I walk down to my locker. Inside, I find my own black envelope with the exact message as hers. I nod at her and mouth
same
.

Suddenly, Kollin creeps up behind her and covers her eyes. She screams, and everyone turns and looks.
Nice timing, idiot
.

Standing side by side, Laney and Kollin look like two mannequin models of preppy perfection. He smiles down at her, and I almost forget the envelope in my hand. I slide it into my pocket.

They walk past me on their way to class. “Listen,” Kollin is saying, “do you want to go into town this weekend? Maybe do the movie thing again?”

Now the buzz feels more like a hangover. Laney loves movies. I wouldn't mind going sometime, but Singer School is pretty strict about leaving campus. You have to have straight A's for two consecutive semesters, with perfect behavior and full privileges, in order to go into town. That cuts out about 99 percent of the student body, including me.

Laney gnaws on her fingernail. “Maybe.” She glances back as she passes me and says, “I need to check what's going on at home first.”

She winks and I swear to God, my heart races. What the hell is wrong with me? If Vanessa Jackson was around, I'd drag her into the janitor's closet until I was sure whatever this is was out of my system.

A second later, Kollin turns around and gives me a dirty look that has the same effect.

By the time I get home from football practice, Laney's already gone. Dad Shanahan catches me in the kitchen. “Your counselor emailed that you never showed for your appointment yesterday,” he says. “Ms. Bennett claims that's the second one you've missed with her. She's eager to get going on your college planning.”

“I'm on it,” I say, but honestly, it seems like a waste of time.

I rush through dinner and chores and head for my room. I'm running late and still haven't showered, plus I'm stressing about what we're going to find at seven o'clock.

I grab my towel and a change of clothes and duck into the bathroom.

While the water warms up in the shower, I lean against the wall and picture Laney this morning, chewing her thumbnail like a chipmunk on crack. It was already red.

My stomach knots.

I step inside and try to clear my head. The stream from the shower drenches me. As I lather up, my fingers brush across the scar on my chest and trigger a memory. All at once, I'm eight years old again.

The rain comes down so hard it hurts, and I'm scared. What if I can't find Chicago? What if an animal runs out of the woods and attacks me? What if this car coming down the road doesn't see me in the darkness and hits me?

I leave the shoulder and veer toward a gate in the fence, trudging through the soaking grass. Suddenly, lightning flashes and lights up a yard full of statues and tombstones to my right. The different shapes and outlines look like a mob of shadowed ghosts—squatting, standing, and hunched over, all of them just waiting to get me.

My voice is trapped in my throat. My feet won't move. A burst of lightning close behind me sends me flying forward into the swampy soil. The air is still crackling when I push myself up on shaky arms and see the most terrifying sight of all. An enormous winged statue towers above me, pointing at a grave. Is she saying it's for me? I spin around and sprint as fast I can, slipping and sliding all the way out the gate and onto the road again. Between the wind and thunder and fear, I don't notice that the car has pulled onto the shoulder behind me.

“Where you going, little man?” a voice calls between thunder claps.

I twist around to see Mr. Shanahan. Delaney must have snitched. I told her to leave me alone, but she never does. She watches me all the time. I'll get her for tattling.

The rain is pouring down so hard, by the time Mr. Shanahan comes around the car and reaches me, he's drenched too. Between the storm and the cemetery and not knowing where I'm even going, I'm not sure what to do.

Mr. Shanahan reaches for me, blinking rain out of his eyes. “What's going on, Talan?”

It's not that he's a bad guy, but I need to go home. “I … I'm running away.”

“Why?” He bends over. “Did someone hurt you?”

I shake my head.

Mr. Shanahan squats down in front of me and brushes my sopping bangs from my eyes. “Buddy,” he says over the storm, “I want to help you, but I can't if you don't talk to me. Will you get in the car, and we can talk at the house?”

I shake my head. “I don't want to go there. I want to see my mom. She said I could come home after a while.”

His shoulders slump and he sighs so loud I hear it over thunder in the distance. He kneels in front of me and gently grips my shoulders. “Talan, your mom has an addiction. She hasn't gotten the help she needs yet.”

“I want to go home!” I yell.

His hands squeeze my shoulders. “Your mom's not there anymore. We can talk about it at the house if you'll come back with us.”

With us?

I notice Delaney for the first time. She's watching me from the back seat with her palms and face pressed against the window.

“We'll take good care of you for as long as you need,” he finishes.

“My mom needs me,” I yell.

“She isn't there!” Although the wind and rain are pelting his face, he locks his eyes on mine, swallows hard, and says, “Your mom is in jail, buddy. She's going to be there for a long time.”

“No!”

“I'm sorry. Maybe we can take a trip and visit her in a few months if the school can arrange it. Or maybe we can call her.”

I'm done and I know it. Gram in a nursing home and mom in jail. No home to go to. No family. A cemetery of monsters behind me and a storm everywhere I look. Except straight ahead. Mr. Shanahan kneels in front of me, his jeans soaking in the puddle beneath him, his hands stretched out to help me.

I crumple into his chest. Big, wet arms coil around me. “Let's go home, buddy.”

We trudge back to the car and Delaney opens the door for me to get in. I shiver and shake in the back seat as Mr. Shanahan pulls a wide U-turn back to the student home. Delaney scoots close and puts her arm around me. She squeezes my arm, right where a scar is.

I shove her hard. “I hate you, you stupid girl.”

“Laney,” Mr. Shanahan says softly. “Let Talan have a little space. Okay?”

I stare out the blurry window to hide my tears. I don't even move when Laney takes her coat off and wraps it around my shoulders.

I snap out of it and realize how late I must be. Laney is probably already waiting for me at the library. Alone.

As I throw my clothes on, the same thought I've had for the last ten years pops into my head:
Delaney Shanahan is an annoying do-gooder.
But there's also a second thought I can't ignore anymore. One that's always there, too, lurking like a shadow in the background:
Delaney Shanahan is the best person I've ever known.

I don't care if it's the Pillars or the Sevens. If someone hurts her, I'll fucking kill them.