Secret of the Sevens (14 page)

“You got me. Maybe Singer planned to build something there but didn't live long enough to finish it.”

She surveys the bottom corner of the diagram. “Check this out. The last tunnel ends at Winchester House.”

“There's a secret tunnel to the Pillars' residence too? Finally,
we
get some perks.”

“That's probably where the Sevens lived. On our parent tours, we talked about how Winchester was originally built as a dorm where they tried out coed housing. I bet Singer really built it so the Sevens who lived there could travel to his house and back undetected.”

“
Okay then. So what's the clue tell us to do for this test?”

Laney reads over the paper. “It translates simple enough,” she says. “To get in the tunnel, you must use the key, for an entrance like this is legendary. If you are reading this note, you can solve this next clue. Oh, your founder was wise, indeed. Are you?”

“They've been ending a lot of our clues with that same question.”

“Yeah, I noticed that too. But what about the rest of it? We need to find a key to get in the tunnel, but there's no hints where to look.”

“Yeah there is, Watson. It's all right there.” I smile. “Lane, think about it. How it says:
You must use the key
and the entrance
is legendary.
Get it? Key? Legend? Like for a map? They're talking about a map key, not a real key. The map key must tell us how to get into the tunnel.”

She looks me up and down. “If I didn't know how much you hated books, I'd swear you spent your nights reading mystery novels.”

You know how it feels when you get a great score on your ACT? Me neither. But I'm betting the way I feel now is pretty close.

We scrunch together and check the map key at the corner of the paper. Voilà. Running across the bottom of the legend, underneath all the symbols and their meanings, is a row of random letters that could easily be mistaken for a serial or file number:

A
¢
IR N XMN D NJL N TRS

“Based on the way the clue is worded, I'm guessing we're supposed to read it like the characters are words. Like how
F U R reading this note
translates to
if you are reading this note
,” she says.

“Makes sense. So let's see … ” I sound out the characters. “A-cent … I-R … and … X-M-N … the N-J-L in T-R-S. Huh?”

“Ascend higher?” she offers.

“Oh, right. So it's
ascend higher and X-M-N
… Ex-em-en. It's
examine
!” I blurt out. “Ascend higher and examine the N-J-L in T-R-S.”

“N-J-L in T-R-S.” The two of us repeat it over and over out loud.

“T-R-S,” Laney says slower. “Tee-r-s. Teee-rs. Tears! You have to ascend higher and examine the en-jail in tears.”

“Awesome.” I slap her back. “Wait, what's an en-jail?”

Her eyes light up. “Angel! Ascend higher and examine the angel in tears.”

“Angel in tears?” I'm lost. “What's that?”

“Where would we find an angel in tears?” She studies the map for a second, then smiles and points at the end of a tunnel. “I got it.”

“The cemetery?” I ask.

“Mary Singer's mausoleum. Remember? That huge statue inside with the angel mourning over the casket? It's got to be that. The tunnel ends somewhere in the graveyard, and she's definitely an angel in tears … And remember how they had us return our invitations there? The Sevens must have been inside that statue the whole time.” I feel a shiver run down my spine, but this time, it's a cool feeling.

Laney glances at the clock. “We need to get going.” She scoops everything up. “Here. You take the map.” Folding it neatly, she slides it in my backpack. “We'll meet at the cemetery at 7:00 tonight.”

“That won't be easy. Boyle's house is right down the road from there and Security is probably pretty tight after the grave robbing. Maybe we should meet in the woods behind the library at 6:30. We'll cut around to the back of the cemetery so no one sees us from Rucker Road.”

“Okay. Six thirty on the path.”

We hustle into the hall but freeze when we hear footsteps coming from the rotunda. Headmaster Boyle turns the corner and almost runs us over.

“Ms. Shanahan … Mr. Michaels … It seems as if we keep bumping into each other. What are you doing at Founders Hall this time of day?”

“Research, sir.” Laney digs through her backpack and hands him her hall pass. “We're working on a project for Professor Solomon's class.”

Boyle checks her pass and hands it back. He looks me up and down next. “I'd like to see yours, too, Mr. Michaels. We need to be
extra
careful until we discover who's behind the recent acts of vandalism. Wouldn't you agree?”

What a dick
. I pull my pass from my pocket and slap it into his open palm. He skims it with his beady eyes, and disappointment washes over his face. “Very well then. Get moving to your next class before you're tardy.”

I'm about to comment about him being the reason we'd be late, but Laney gives me a pleading look. I crumple the pass in my fist and push past him.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” Laney says.

She catches up to me and we scurry across the atrium. When I hold the door open for her, I turn and see Boyle glaring at us from the opposite side of the rotunda. He's leaning against a column, his arms crossed in front of him. The way his eyes zero in on us gives me a chill, like he's targeting us through the scope on a rifle.

Twenty-five

After football practice, I drop my gym bag on the floor of my room and trudge straight for the shower. Suicide sprints killed me today.

Back in my room, my legs feel like Jello. I tug on a pair of shorts and collapse on my bed. My body's beat, but my brain won't stop thinking about the tunnel map. I roll over and stretch as far as I can, to reach my backpack without actually having to get up, and tug the map from the back pocket.

I've only been skimming it a few minutes when someone knocks on my door.

“Who is it?” I call, stuffing the paper behind my pillow.

“Laney,” she whispers. “Can I come in?”

“Sure.”

She hesitates at the doorway, and I know why. We aren't supposed to be in each other's rooms, especially with the door closed. She checks the hall before quietly locking the door.

Then she walks over and points at my bare chest. “Showing off your six-pack?”

“I just got out of the shower.”

Before I can get up and grab a T-shirt, Laney climbs next to me. She sits so close that our sides are touching.

She tilts her head and whispers in my ear. “I need to tell you something, and it's not good.” She winces and finishes. “There was more vandalism last night. They're assuming it was a few people, because they totally destroyed the football stadium. There was some major damage.”

“
What
?”

“They tore up the field and trashed the bleachers. They even broke into the concession stand and threw stuff everywhere. There was Sevens graffiti spray painted all over the place. Things like
F— you Singer School
and
the Sevens are back
.”

My hands twitch from anger and fear. “So that's why we had practice in the fieldhouse today … ”

“They're trying to keep it hush-hush until they investigate further, but I was checking the student council mailbox and I overheard them talking. Headmaster Boyle said he'll be overseeing security on campus until they catch whoever is behind this.”

When she looks at me, her lips are trembling. “I'm worried, Tal. Why are they doing this? Are they trying to scare you or frame you? I don't know what to do anymore. The Sevens are incredibly important to me, but I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“Are you thinking we should tell someone? Maybe your parents?”

“No!” Her voice quivers. “My parents can't know. They'd never let me do this, and then I'd never find out what happened to my real mom. You made a vow not to say anything. I'm okay with you dropping out, but please keep your promise to me.” When she looks up at me with her eyes all watery, my gut turns to mush.

I wrap an arm around her shoulder. “I didn't say anything about dropping out. It'll be fine. I'll be careful. I promise.” Without thinking, I bundle her close and kiss her forehead.

The second I do it, I'm paralyzed. Laney and I don't have the kind of friendship where we hug or kiss. Hell, we don't even touch when we pass the salt at dinner. My arms tense like wood around her back, and I hold my breath waiting for her reaction. I'm a mannequin trapped in a pose while my brain scrambles to come up with a joke I can crack when she pushes me away.

Only she never does.

She nestles inside my arms instead. It's obvious she's lost in thought about something, but she still seems pretty damn comfortable.

And so am I.

I'm not used to girls touching me. Well, not like this anyway. I'm blown away by how different this feels. Lying here all peaceful, with uptight Delaney Shanahan all soft and cuddly, snuggling me like a body pillow.

I allow myself to exhale. My hand rests on the center of her back, rising and falling with her even, steady breaths. Her body forms to mine, and I catch a whiff of that lavender stuff again. She lies in a daze with her hand resting over the scar on my chest.

“
Stay right there,” I say, sitting up. “I'm cold. I'm just gonna grab a shirt real quick.”

“No.” She nudges me back against the pillow, trapping my eyes with hers. “I've seen them before,” she whispers. “They don't bother me.”

She lowers her head to my chest again and rides her finger over the raised scar that sits over my heart. I reach for her fingers, but she gently nudges my hand aside. “It looks like an S,” she says.

“It is. For Superman.”

She laughs softly and traces over the scar again. “How did you get this, Talan?”

I stumble over my words. “I … I've told you. On a playground when I was little.”

“No,” she says quietly, without looking at me. “How did you really get it?”

I'd push her away, but it feels too good, like I've been starving for her touch. Her fingers glide warm and tender over my bare skin. That ticklish “S” is totally screwing with me. My nerve endings are whipped into a frenzy. I try to think of something besides her, but it's too late. My body is painfully aware that I'm lying half-dressed and alone in my bed with Laney, her hands running over my bare chest and her warm curves molded to mine behind a locked door.

Maybe I should try that kiss again, only this time …

“Talan?”

Laney jerks her head up.

“Please tell me it was you that just said my name,” I whisper.

Terror colors her cheeks as she slowly shakes her head from side to side.

“Talan? Are you in there with Laney?” It's Mom Shanahan.

Laney jumps up and yanks me off the bed so hard that I land on the floor with a thud.

“Yes, we're in here!” Laney yells a little too enthusiastically. “You can come in, Mom. We're not doing anything.”

Mom jiggles the knob, but the door won't open. “Why is this door locked?” she shouts.

“Oh fug!” Laney trips over my backpack in her rush to open it.

She reaches it about the same time I notice that the map and the Sevens' clue are still spread out on my bed. I dive across the mattress, scrambling to bury the papers under my bedspread before Mom sees them.

When her mother walks in, I'm sprawled bare-chested across my bed, sweating profusely and trying to smooth out my tangled sheets and crumpled comforter. Laney stands next to the doorway, gnawing nervously on her thumbnail. Her hair is mussed and her face is redder than a sunburn.

I'm not sure what it looks like we were doing, but from the expression on Mom's face, she isn't giving us the benefit of the doubt anymore.

Ah shit.

Twenty-six

“You two. In my office. Now!”

Mom's voice is calm, but not a relaxed calm. More like the calm-inside-the-eye-of-a-hurricane calm. My neck and back tense as I yank a T-shirt over my head and follow her through the house to her office.

Marcus and Juan are talking in the kitchen when we pass. Marcus takes one look at Mom and his eyebrows skyrocket. He looks sidelong at me and mouths, “What happened?”

Mom turns into her office and points to two chairs, which we sit in like soldiers. The click from her shutting the door sounds like the door of a death-row cell sliding into place.

She says n
othing as she paces back and forth in front of us, rubbing her hands together. I know her. She's mentally running through every child psychology seminar she's ever attended to figure out how to handle this. Meanwhile, my brain wrestles to think of an excuse for why we were in my bedroom with the door locked.

“You can stop freaking out,” Laney blurts out. She looks her mom straight in the eyes. “I'm not hooking up with Talan.”

Mom's shoulders relax some. Thank God one of us has a reputation for honesty.

“Start talking,” Mom says.

Laney leans forward in her chair. “I'm telling you the truth. Talan and I are friends, that's all. I'm with Kollin, so lighten up already.”

Her mother leans her butt against the desk and studies us. “I know something is going on with you two.”

You're right. It's called the Society of Seven.

I shrug my shoulders and play dumb. “What are you talking about? Nothing's going on.”

Mom's fingers grip the edge of the desk as she stares us down. “I've noticed you two spending a lot more time together lately. And, well, it's only natural that the two of you might be finding yourselves attracted to each other.”

When Laney rolls her eyes, Mom says, “Are you going to tell me I'm imagining this? Every time I turn around, you two are alone together, whispering and touching each other.”

“Right.” I choke out a laugh. “Now you're definitely imagining things. Laney and I are spending time together because Professor Solomon assigned us to do a group project together. We're hanging more, but it's not romantic. We're just friends.”

She gives me her
yeah, right
look.

I look her straight in the eyes and hold up my hand. “I swear to you, there's nothing physical going on between us. If I'm lying, may I never play football again.”

She taps her fingers on the desk. “Then why was the door locked?”

“We were talking about some personal things, that's all,” Laney insists.

Mom crosses her arms. “What could be so personal that you need that kind of privacy?” She waits for me to answer, but I flounder to come up with an excuse.

Laney blurts out, “You're pretty nosy for someone who thinks it's okay to keep secrets from other people.”

Mom flinches, then glances uncomfortably between Laney and me. There's an awkward period of silence where I pretend that I have no idea what they're talking about.

Mom's jaw clenches. “Answer the question.”

Laney exhales loudly. “Talan was sharing some things that are stressing him out, okay? If anything, you should be happy about that. You've been telling him since he was little to communicate his feelings. Well, he's finally talking to someone about stuff that's troubling him. Instead of jumping to conclusions, you should be encouraging that.”

“What would Talan be so upset about that he needs to talk to you behind a locked door?”

I've pretty much accepted the fact that I'm gonna be grounded until graduation when, all of a sudden, Laney announces, “He's realizing his time at Singer is running out, and he's freaking about it. He's scared because he's gonna be homeless after graduation.”

Mom jerks her head toward me like she might be buying it. “You are?”

Shitshitshit.
What is Laney thinking? Why couldn't she tell her I had an STD or a meth addiction or something? Now Mom's going to expect me to talk about my feelings and emotions and crap. I'd rather she thought I impregnated the pompon squad.

“Talan.” Mom's voice gets all babyish. “Is this true? Did you tell Laney you're worried about where you're going to be next year?”

“Well, yeah, but—”

Laney talks over me. “Singer expects students to move on once they graduate. But for Talan, this is the only home he's got. He has no idea what he wants to do, but he knows he isn't welcome here come June. It's like he's being abandoned all over again. Only this time it's Singer School that's throwing him out.”

My chest tightens. I never said those words aloud, but somehow Laney heard them. They make me feel seven years old and alone and shitty, all over again.

I'm angry and nauseated, but I can't deny anything without getting us in worse trouble.

“I'm sorry, Talan. That
is
a lot to deal with.” Mom rubs her forehead. “I should have anticipated this. Your counselor contacted Dad and me because you won't make any decisions regarding college next year.” She shakes her head. “I've always said that Singer should handle transitioning differently.” As she moves in front of me, my eyes hopscotch around the room to avoid hers.

“I'll discuss this with Dad and we'll sit down and talk about it,” she says. “There's nothing to worry about. You're not being abandoned. You're starting a wonderful new phase in your life, that's all. This will always be your home.”

I can't look at her.

“Okay, Talan?”

I nod and stand up to leave, but she blocks me before I get anywhere. “Wait. We're not done yet.” She gently nudges me back into the chair, then leans back against the desk again, drumming her fingertips on the front edge.

The tone in her voice has shifted from anger to compassion to fear all in the same minute. “I still need to warn you two against spending so much time alone together. Even if it is innocent, I can't help feeling that there's something developing between you two.”

Yeah. Unfortunately, it's a secret society.

When Laney rolls her eyes again, Mom reaches out and squeezes her wrist. “You listen to me.” She gives Laney a fevered glare. “Singer School made an exception allowing us to houseparent boys with a daughter in the house. That's only because we were already fostering boys when Laney was born, and there weren't any openings in the girl homes. But every year, we sit in our review and we're drilled on what precautions we take to separate you from the boys. The administration takes this stuff very seriously. Issues like teen pregnancy and sexual abuse are serious concerns, particularly for schools like Singer.”

“I know that.” Laney's voice is quiet and sincere. “We get it.”

“Then you also know that the administration would have to remove Talan from our home if they suspected you two were romantically involved. I want you both to think about that for a minute. There aren't any openings right now in any of the senior high homes, which means Talan would have to be referred out to Child Services. That could get complicated.”

She looks directly at me. “You're eighteen now. I'm not sure they could even place you in foster care at this point. That means your greatest fear could come true—you'd end up alone and homeless.”

My throat tightens. The idea of getting kicked out before graduation leaves a sick sadness in my stomach.

“You don't have anything to worry about.” Laney's face is pale. Her voice shakes when she says, “I would never let that happen.”

“Good. I'm counting on that,” her mother says.

I stand up again and Mom snares me in a huge bear hug. Trapped in her arms, I lean my chin on her shoulder and glare at Laney. She misreads my eyes and gives me the thumbs-up sign.

Mom pulls back and grips my shoulders. “Talan Michaels, you will always be part of this family. Dad and I will make some time this week and we'll have a long talk about your feelings and concerns. We'll work through this together. I don't want you worrying. Okay?”

“Ummm … ” I nod. “Sure.”

Mom tousles my hair and nudges me out the door. She calls to Laney, “It's your night to help with dinner. You should probably get going on that.”

Laney follows her mom out. As she passes me, she whispers, “Remember. The woods. Six-thirty.”