Secret of the Sevens (7 page)

“There's nothing to figure out,” I say. “You asked what I wanted the money for and I told you—I need to set myself up somewhere until I can find a decent job. Unlike you, when I graduate I don't have a family or a future waiting for me.”

Laney acts like I spit on her. “What do you mean you don't have any family? You have a family. We're your family.”

“What don't you get about this? It's not the same for me as it is for you. I was abandoned by my mom, Laney. Your parents may have raised me, but they aren't my real mom and dad.”

“That's
exactly
the same as me,” she snaps.

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm adopted. My real mother abandoned me too.”

The words are slow to sink in.

“You're adopted? Why didn't I know that?”

Her face tightens. “Nobody knows. My parents hide it from everyone. They never even told
me.
” She stares up at the ceiling and blows out a slow breath. “Do you remember the community service project I spearheaded sophomore year?”

“Which one? You do more volunteering than United Way.”

“The blood drive.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, my parents came. Of course. To make a long story short, they both donated type O blood.” She rubs the back of her neck and mumbles. “I'm type A.”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Geez, you took biology. Don't you remember anything from the genetics unit? Two type O parents wouldn't have a type A child. It's impossible. That's how I figured it out. They lied to me all those years.”

“You're kidding? … Well, what'd they say when you confronted them?”

“They got all flustered and denied it. Said I was ‘mistaken.' When I gave them proof, they refused to talk about it. The next day, they came to me and finally admitted it was true, but insisted I let it go. They said they loved me and I had to trust them for now. They told me that someday I'd know everything.”

“But why would they lie about it?”

Her voice quivers. “Because they're hiding something bad.”

“No way. Not Mom and Dad. How could you even say that?”

“Think about it. They're all about taking in foster kids. Me being adopted isn't something they'd be ashamed of or uncomfortable sharing. Plus, they're fanatics about honesty.”

“But what would they be hiding?”

“I have no idea because they refuse to talk about it. I've imagined all kinds of dark secrets, like they stole me or my real mother was some horrible monster.”

“It doesn't make sense.”

“Exactly. That's why I joined the Sevens. That's what I want for my greatest desire—I want to know who my mother was and what happened to her.” She crosses her arms. “I'm counting on you not to tell anyone, Talan.”

I nod, and she slowly turns and walks away. I trail behind her in stunned silence until her flashlight reveals another passageway.

“There's our next intersection,” she says softly. “Where are we in the poem?”

“Okay, it goes: ‘Until it leads right to a place, where everything you thought you knew, will turn around. And you will, too.”

Laney says, “We turn right, then,” and swings down the dark passage. “Look! There's a light ahead.”

Up high, and in the distance, light streams from a shaft in the ceiling. I'm so happy to see it until I realize that we have no idea where it's coming from. The tunnel dead-ends below it, but metal rungs protrude from the wall there. We lower our beams as we near it.

Laney opens her mouth to say something, but she's silenced by voices in the distance. We stare at each other and then up the chute. The voices are too muffled to make out. I climb the lowest rungs until my head barely rises above the hatch.

The space around me is empty—a shadowy room that's the size of a large closet. I wave for Laney to follow me up.

We climb out, turn off our flashlights, and look in different directions. Laney points to a long horizontal vent that rides high along one wall near the ceiling. She cups her hand over my ear. “We must be in a hidden room or utility closet or something. Listen,” she whispers. “The voices are coming through the cold air return up there.”

Light sneaks through the slanted slats in the metal register, illuminating the room with stolen light. Standing against the back wall, I see a brilliant crystal chandelier through the grates. Laughter passes through the slits, too. Laney holds a finger to her lips and nods toward a ladder that was conveniently left in the corner, right below the vent.

A familiar voice on the other side of the wall calls out, “Is everyone having a good time?”

Younger voices laugh and cheer. They sound kind of drunk.

“This is what being a Pillar is all about. Success through excellence!”

A familiar voice answers, “We're all really grateful for your generosity, Mr. Kane.”

It takes me a moment to recognize Cameron Moore's suck-up tone. Laney's eyes grow wide, signaling me she recognizes it too. I climb the ladder, leaning against the wall so that my face is in the shadows, and reach to help her up.

The scene we spy when we gaze down through the narrow slats looks like Christmas at the Playboy Mansion, minus the skin. A long elegant table stretches across the center of a dark, wood-paneled room. The tabletop is crowded with plates of half-eaten lobster and steak, with ornate side dishes that look like art projects. There's a tower of what looks like little bonbons and some lattice-work thing with pieces of chocolate-dipped fruit stuck to it. Open bottles of champagne are everywhere, along with crumpled wrapping paper and empty boxes.

I can see Stephen Kane standing with Cameron in front of a wall-to-wall cabinet at the opposite end of the room, pouring himself a glass of brandy. The other Pillars relax around the table, dressed in tailored suits and shimmering dresses. Samantha Mann pulls back her hair while Kayla Kaminski fastens a sparkly necklace at the nape of Samantha's neck. They both scream and make a toast when it's on her properly, glinting in the light.

Not to be outdone, Kayla fingers her own necklace to show off the diamond pendant that hangs low in the plunging neckline of her gown. Across from them, Zack Hunter, Iman Kabal, and Nick Robinson are deeply engrossed in comparing new laptops.

Stephen Kane takes a sip from his glass. “To business relationships!” He raises his goblet. “You all know I was able to achieve great things after my time at Singer. The least I can do is pay it forward, guys. Here's to the Pillars.”

“The Pillars!” they all cheer.

“We certainly appreciate it,” Cameron says.
God, the guy just can't stop.

Kane lays his hand on Cam's shoulder like a proud father. “And I appreciate your support at the board meeting.” He addresses the other Pillars. “Consider this a lesson in orchestrating a mutually rewarding business arrangement. When you approve my plan to sell the school along with Singer Enterprises, we'll all prosper exponentially.”

Six heads nod their support.

Kane lifts his glass again. “To teamwork!”

The church bell rings with eight deafening
bongs
that sound like they're coming from just outside the wall. Which means we're in the north end of the Executive Building, right next to Providence Church. I've never been inside this building. It's off-limits to students and only used by Singer executives.

“My driver is waiting to take you back to Winchester House,” Kane tells them. “Which reminds me, I've been talking to an acquaintance who owns a Lexus dealership.” He flashes his shiny smile. “There may be some cars in your future.”

Zack fist-bumps Nick as Kane walks them out the door. Kayla stops to scoop up some glasses from the floor, but Kane waves his hand at her. “No, Ms. Kaminski. We hire people for that.”

As the last Pillar staggers out, I rub my face and try to process what I've just seen. Laney is already climbing down the ladder in a stupor. She pulls out her flashlight and I follow her back down the chute. My head is swimming and I'm starting to feel sick again. I can't process anything in the dark confines of this creepy tube.

I step off the last rung and she whispers, “I can't believe what we just heard! Listen, we need to hurry to get back in time. Do you remember the way?”

I normally have a killer memory, but the darkness has me freaking again
.
Suddenly, it occurs to me. “It's the second half of the poem. We left off at the place that said ‘everything you thought you knew, will turn around, and you will, too.' The next part said, ‘Left to sort what's wrong from right, and why you're going to have to fight—”

Laney finishes, “To take what's left and make it right.”

“So we take the first left.” I start jogging to get the hell out of here, fumbling with my flashlight.

Laney flicks hers on and catches up. “Well at least we know now that this is real.” She stares up at me. “And we know what the Sevens want from us.”

“We do?” I only slow when we make the first turn.

“Of course. They want us to stop Stephen Kane and the Pillars from selling the school.” She's talking faster and faster, like she's the one with ADHD. “It's sickening. An old man hanging around teenagers, plying them with drinks and expensive gifts. Buying them off to get their support to sell our school.”

I focus on our next turn ahead. If only it weren't so suffocating down here.

“I can't believe the Pillars would betray their friends like that,” Laney rattles on. “I mean, what happens to the students here? A lot of them have nowhere else to go.”

“It doesn't matter to us. We're graduating.”

She inhales sharply. “
Talan
, I can't believe you said that. What about our friends who aren't? What about our housebrothers? What happens to them if Singer closes?”

I hadn't considered that. Still, I want out of this claustrophobic maze so bad I can hardly think straight. “I don't know; I'm sure they'll figure something out.”

The truth is, I thought this secret society would be about parties, pranks, and perks. I don't have a lot of other options for money, but this Sevens thing isn't exactly what I expected. My mind jumps back and forth from every
thing we've seen so far to the dark tunnel that wraps around me like a straitjacket.

“What about my parents?” Laney says. “They've devoted their whole lives to Singer School. Where will they go? What'll they do?”

I love the Shanahans, but right now, the only ass I'm worried about saving is my own. “They'll still need houseparents. Maybe nothing will change.”

I'm getting used to the smell down here, but it still makes me woozy.
Focus. One more left and a right. But then what?

Laney's wound up and won't stop talking. “See, I told you the Sevens were real! They aren't the bad guys. They never were. There's more to them than that scandal, and we'll figure it out.”

I stop to catch my breath. “Kane is up to something, I'll give you that. He wants to sell the school. I don't think we can assume anything else. Aren't you kind of making a stretch about the Sevens? Why do you want to believe so badly that the Sevens were innocent? Because the Pillars rejected you and the Sevens want us?”

She flinches at my words. “Are you kidding me? The Pillars are disgusting. I'm glad they didn't choose me. They're up to something all right. And they're going down.”

As I look at her standing there with her hands on her hips, her messed-up hair falling over intense brown eyes, I suddenly realize that she's not the same Delaney. “What's gotten into you, Shanahan?”

She avoids my stare and brushes past me so I have to race to keep up. “Nothing. I just hate the thought of these Pillars getting all those perks and awards they don't deserve. There's a waiting list a mile long for kids who need to get into Singer, and Kane is wasting tuition money on a car for Kayla Kaminski? The Pillars are supposed to be model students looking out for the school, not selling out to Stephen Kane. The Sevens must want to save our school.
That's
the group I want to be in.”

“I don't know. I'm thinking the Pillars' secret club looks a hell of a lot funner than ours.”

Her hand flies up to smack me, and I duck. “I'm kidding!”

Our flashlights are jumping like two headlights rolling down a bumpy road. When we reach the last long corridor, there's a light at the far end. We get closer, and I can tell the elevator is waiting for us with its back panel slid open. I want to cry with relief.

Inside, Laney stabs the button for the first floor and the back wall slithers into place again, making the elevator look like every other I've ever been in.

Except for the black envelope taped to the center of the rear wall.

My hand is still shaking when I pull it down. The note inside reads:

“A prudent question is one-half of wisdom.”
-
Francis Bacon

Eleven

On Saturday morning, I wake up to the smell of burnt toast wafting down the hallway. Chris and Mike must be cooking again. They both want to be star chefs someday, but it's taken them two years to master the hot dog. They're sophomores, twin brothers from Michigan. Their mom is bipolar and their dad is in jail. Where will they go if Singer closes?

I drag my butt into the kitchen and Chris sings, a little too brightly, his typical, “Taaaaaa-lan.”

I wrinkle my nose. “What'd you scorch today?”

“First batch, yes. But check these out.” Chris pulls a tray of gooey, ad-perfect cinnamon buns out of the oven and waves the pan in front of my face. “If at first you don't succeed—”

Mike and I join in, “Try, try again.”

It's one of the sayings Singer drills into your head from childhood.

“Dorky,” Chris says, “but true.”

I reach for the tray and he slaps my hand. “Manners, boy.” He scoops me out a piece and watches me devour it.

“Mmmm. Ecstasy,” I moan. He beams like I'm Gordon Ramsey. I finish and wipe my fingers on my T-shirt. “That was almost worth getting up for.”

“We know.” They high five each other.

Marcus, Jake, and Joshua stagger into the kitchen. “Hey, where were you last night?” Marcus asks me. “Did you forget about our workout?”

“Oh man, I'm sorry. I was … at the library.”

“No. Really.” He laughs. “Where were you?”

“The library. Really.”

Jake grabs a gallon of milk from the refrigerator and starts guzzling.

“The library? You?” Marcus says. “Why? Is the new
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit edition in? No, can't be. It's fall.”

“Ha ha. I was studying.”

Jake spits his mouthful across the counter. He starts wiping it up with his sleeve and peers at me. “Okay, spill. Where were you?”

“You were hooking up with someone, weren't you?” Marcus says. “It has to be bad, or you'd tell us. It was Large Marge, wasn't it?”

“No—”

“I bet it was Professor Gaytan,” Joshua says. “She's a PILF.”

“Shut up, losers.” I grab a glass and fill it with water from the sink. “Hey, do you guys know if Laney's up yet?”

Marcus takes the milk jug from Jake. “She's in the family room watching TV.” He downs the rest of it and puts the empty container back in the fridge, adding, “Le Douche just came over.” He wipes his mouth on his shirt and wiggles his eyebrows at Jake and me. “Maybe they need a chaperone?”

Jake slams the refrigerator door. “Definitely.”

The two take off for the family room and I'm right behind them. Picking on LeBeau is sort of a hobby for us.

Jake immediately dives onto the couch between Kollin and Delaney. He shimmies them apart and wraps his arms around their shoulders. “Can I cuddle too?”

Marcus nabs the remote from the armrest before Laney can grab it away. “Give it back!” she snaps.

He tosses it to me, and I switch the channels. The local cable station is replaying one of our football games from last season. “Now
this
is worth watching,” I tell them. “This was a great game, and you two blew it off to watch a stupid movie. I had twelve tackles.”

“We didn't blow it off. We left during the second half.” Kollin sneers. “It was too embarrassing to watch once you were down by thirty.”

If I clench my teeth any harder, they'll crack. “What's embarrassing is that shirt.” My eyes wander over Kollin's chest. “Did Lady Gaga pick that out for you?”

“Ohhhh, nice one,” Jake says.

Kollin looks me up and down. “I'm supposed to take fashion advice from you? The only thing missing from your wardrobe is an empty moonshine bottle.”

Laney jumps up and stands between us. “Can you two stop fighting for once and try to—”

I talk over her. “If you're such an expert on looking good, LeBeau, how come I'm the one who's hooked up with every hot girl at this school?”

Kollin's nostrils flare, but he keeps his voice steady. “Because I don't want to hook up with every hot girl.”

“Because you can't get a hot girl.”

“Because I have the one I want, idiot.”

Dang. He's got me there. I start to say something, but Kollin lunges for the remote in my hand. I twist away in time but lose my balance and stumble backward. My feet fly forward and knock Kollin down on top of me. Before I know it, we're rolling on the floor, wrestling and punching each other.

Delaney wedges herself between us, trying to push us apart. “Knock it off!”

Of course, we don't. We roll from side to side, arms flailing and testosterone steaming from our pores. “Stop it!” she screams. “You're gonna hurt each other.” She pushes with all her might to separate us, but we outweigh her by two hundred pounds.

She shouts up at Marcus and Jake, “Help me before they get in trouble!”

I get a good blow in before Laney lodges herself between us again. Jake and Marcus only intervene when Kollin's stray punch skims Delaney's cheek.

A second later, a voice booms, “What's going on in here?” Dad Shanahan charges in from the doorway. “Well?” He looks at each of us. When none of us answer, he goes to the one person he knows will always tell the truth. “Delaney, what's this about?”

She doesn't say anything.

“Nothing,” I answer, out of breath. “We were goofing around and I fell into the table.” I reach down and pick up the remote and a magazine that fell to the floor.

Laney snatches the remote from my hand and flips the channel back to her movie. “Kollin and I were watching TV, that's all. They came in to bug us. They were about to leave. Right, Talan?”

I look from Laney to Kollin to Dad Shanahan. “Right.”

“Well, go then,” Dad says. “And keep the ruckus down. I have a pile of paperwork and I can't keep running in here to babysit you kids.”

“C'mon, guys.” Marcus and Jake follow me toward the door. As I pass Kollin, he collapses on the couch, his arms folded across his chest.

I'm playing basketball out front later with Mike when I hear Laney and Kollin yelling from the back of the house. He chases her through the side yard and they turn the corner, laughing and wheezing. She stops in her tracks when she sees Mike and me shooting hoops in the driveway.

“Hey, Lane. Hey, Kollin,” Mike says. He attempts a failed layup, which he rebounds under the net.

“Hi, Mike,” they say in sync. They stare at me with poison eyes, but say nothing.

I grab the ball from Mike's hands and pivot around him. It's so obvious we're ignoring each other that it's awkward. Mike's eyes bounce between Laney and me.

Kollin glides his hand down to Laney's waist. “Well, I'm gonna go.”

Laney turns to him. “Okay.”

He kisses her forehead and glares at me over her shoulder. Then he ambles off, but stops about ten feet away and glances back. “Hey, Lane?”

“Yeah?”

He smirks at me before telling Laney, “You're hot.”

Laney smiles wide until she turns around and catches me rolling my eyes. When my next shot bounces off the rim and lands in the grass next to her, she kicks the ball so hard it ends up in the retention pond across the street. She grins and walks inside.

I rescue the ball and hand it to Mike. “Play without me for a while. I need to talk to Laney.”

She's eating ice cream alone in the kitchen when I come in. I'm not about to apologize when her lame boyfriend started the whole fight, but I'll take the high road. We're in this Sevens thing together and there's no time for this now.

I pour a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and pull out the chair next to her. “So what's our next move, you know, with the … situation. Have you heard anything?”

She shakes her head, avoiding my eyes.

“I've been thinking a lot about it.” I shovel a mouthful and swallow it down. “Like, for one thing, if someone really is resurrecting the Sevens, why are we the only ones invited? Shouldn't there be seven of us?”

She doesn't answer.

“And why would they chose me? I mean, you're a brainiac, but why would they want me?”

She crumples her napkin, smushes it into the bowl with her unfinished ice cream, and scoots her chair back.

“I mean, it's not like I—”

Before I finish, Laney leans over and interrupts me. “You're right, Talan.” She circles around me to the sink. “I have no idea why anyone in their right mind would want you.”

She tosses her bowl and spoon into the dishwasher while I pick my jaw up from the floor. It's the meanest thing I've ever heard her say, and she walks out without a second glance.

Suddenly, I'm not so hungry. I dump my cereal in the sink and wonder why it feels like I'm wearing a concrete shirt. What do I care what the Proud Prude thinks? Only … I do. There's a soreness in my throat and lungs that I can't shake.

“Talan? You okay?” Mike's voice is right next to me, but Laney's is still louder in my head. “Talan?”

“Huh?” I wipe my suddenly sweaty hands on my jeans. “Sorry. I was spacing out.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm just tired. I think I'll lie down.”

I show up to dinner dreading Laney's presence.

“Pass the meatloaf,” she grumbles to me as I sit down.

I ignore her and start to eat.

“Are you deaf? I asked you to pass me the—”

As she talks, I turn my back on her and ask Marcus, “Hey, do you want to hang with Shannon and Taylor later?”

“Oh, for Pete's sake,” Laney snaps. “Whatever.”

She reaches around me for the meatloaf at the same time I turn back. My arm bumps the plate, and hot gravy dumps all over my sleeve.

“Ow, that burns!” I jump up, whipping my fork at the table. When it lands, a mound of mashed potatoes splatters all over her. “Dang it, Laney.” I try to wipe the gravy off my sleeve with a napkin, but it only makes it worse. “Great. I was going to wear this tonight.”

She flicks a glob of potatoes off her face and gives me a look that could sear through me. “Me? What did I do? You bumped into
me
. And then you pummeled me with potatoes.” She shoves me hard in the arm. “If you'd handed it to me when I asked … ”

Dad Shanahan slams his fist down and we all jump. “What is going on with you two?” he roars.

Laney and I glare at each other and wipe food off ourselves.

“You both knock it off this instant,” Mom orders. “If you can't eat civilly, you don't belong at our table.”

Heat burns my cheeks. “I'm not good enough to belong anywhere, according to your daughter.”

Laney gets up in my face, gritting her teeth like a snarling
bulldog. “What are you talking about? You're the one that thinks you're so great. Big party guy—Mister Player. Wow, I'm so impressed by your awesome resume of banging girls and failing classes.”

The room gets so quiet, I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. My brain scrambles for words to defend myself, but there aren't any. Maybe because she's right.

Mom's voice hits that octave where you better duck or run. “Delaney Shanahan! That's enough! Get to your room. Now!”

“Fine!” Laney stands up and slams her chair into the table. “I lost my appetite the second he sat down anyhow.”

“I don't know what's gotten into you, young lady, but you're now grounded for the evening.”

She bolts out the door. “Good! At least I won't have to see him or his big ego!”

I don't have to look up to know everyone is staring at me. I stab at my meatloaf, wishing it was Laney. That's not true. What I wish is that she'd explain why she's treating me like crap. We were getting along so good with all this Sevens stuff. Not sure why that would change now. She's used to Kollin and me fighting. I don't know why this time is anything different.

Why should I care what she thinks anyway? It's not like I want a relationship with Laney, or with any girl. And I never said I was valedictorian material. She's the one who always said I was smart. She said I used my learning disorder as an excuse to play dumb, but I wasn't.

Well, I guess she knows better now.