Secret of the Sevens (22 page)

Forty

The quiet at dinner is so strained that even Mom asks if everything's all right. No one says a word to me, even as we clean up afterward.

When my housebrothers leave to play
Cyber Combat Zone
, I sneak out the front door. I need to get to the mausoleum and back in time to talk to Kollin and Laney.

I'm jogging near the end of my street when two figures dodge behind the last house. Dressed in black, with hoodies pulled over their faces, they trail me from a distance across campus. I decide to duck into the library and take the elevator up. After a while, I take the back stairs down and sneak out the rear exit.

It wastes a lot of time, but at least I'm alone when I hit the woods. I race to the mausoleum and slip through the secret door in the statue. Standing on the landing, I realize I have to go down the stairs in the dark. Alone.

My throat tightens.

It's twelve stairs, and then the sensor light goes on. I can do this.
But what if it doesn't go on? What if I'm stuck in the dark or trapped down there alone or …
No. I can do this
. It's twelve steps. Twelve.

I push the button to close the door and trap myself inside the black. One, two, three … I count my quick steps to the bottom room and thank God when the light goes on. I practically fall into the room, heaving in a panic attack that I wasn't prepared for. Jittery and lightheaded, I plop down and try to catch my breath.

When my hands finally steady, I pull out my notebook and scribble the poem word for word off the wall. There's something out of place with it, but what? I read the first letters going down, thinking it could be another one of those column messages, but I get nothing.

I go over the poem so much I have it memorized. It says to use what we've learned to solve the last clue, but what do we use it
on
? It's like we're missing a half clue. Unless we already have it and don't realize it. I pull out the map and see if I can apply the clues we learned earlier to come up with something. After a half hour, I'm just frustrated.

I jam the paper in my bag and jog up the stairs. Right in front of the secret door, I hear a voice outside and freeze.

“I don't know, Cam. That was bad.” The male voice trembles so much, I can't make it out. “Did you see all the blood? He wasn't moving. What if we killed him?”

I peek out the narrow slit under the angel's fingertips and see Cameron Moore shake Iman Kabal. “Get a grip. He'll be fine in time. Mr. Kane wanted it to be bad.”

“But what if he dies? We were just supposed to back up Kane in some board meetings, not trash the school and beat the crap out of a kid.”

Cameron peels off his gloves. “We're in this now, so deal with it.”

“I want to go home,” Iman says. “I'm gonna be sick.”

He's not the only one. What did they do? Who did they beat up?

Cam grabs his arm. “Get it together.” He pulls Iman's gloves off him and tosses both pairs aside. “We'll hide everything here, just like Kane said. He'll plant it in Michael's locker with the master key, and no one will ever suspect us.”

Michael's locker?
As in, Talan Michaels? As in
me
? Iman's not the only one who wants to throw up now.

Cam peeks out the mausoleum door.

“Let's go,” he tells Kabal, and they both take off running.

The sensor light clicks off and my shaky hands have trouble finding the switch to open the door in the dark. When it finally slides over, I fall out of it and land on a bottle of spray paint and a steel rod. They leave red paint on my hands, or at least the can does. The red fluid on the rod might be blood.

This is what they plan on planting in my locker?

Like hell.
I throw everything down the stairs and hit the switch to close the hatch.

I run all the way home, stopping only to wipe my hands on some soggy leaves in the woods. There can't be any paint or blood on me in case someone sees me. I linger on the back porch before going in, searching my hands for any red stains.

The kitchen looks empty, so I creep through the back door. The family room is buzzing with voices. I kick off my damp shoes and use the break to scrub my hands and do a final once-over of my coat and clothes.

I try to steady my wobbly legs so I can look for Kollin and Laney. But the closer I get to the family room, the shakier I get. Someone's bawling.
Laney.

“What's going on?” I ask. I feel flush and lightheaded. I'm sure I'm as pale as a baby's butt.

Laney sits sobbing on the couch, her parents propping her up on both sides. The rest of my housebrothers huddle around her like a barbed-wired fence.

“Oh, Talan,” she wails. Her face is a blotchy red-blue color.

“What's the matter?” I count heads, and our family is all present and accounted for. “What happened?”

Dad staggers over and whispers in my ear, “Someone attacked Kollin LeBeau tonight. He's in intensive care with swelling on the brain and significant internal injuries. They induced a coma to relieve some of the intracranial pressure, but it doesn't look good. They're trying to reach his father in Afghanistan.”

I lower myself into a chair before my legs give out. “Do they have any idea who did it?”

“No, but a custodian saw two figures dressed in black running away from the scene. And there was a red seven spray-painted on the sidewalk next to Kollin.”

My hands squeeze the arms of the chair to keep the room from spinning. Laney is across from me, wrapped in her mom's arms, dazed and still sobbing. When I look higher, three sets of eyes target me like a drone. It's clear who Marcus, Jake, and Juan think is responsible.

“He'll be okay, Laney.” My voice shakes. “Don't worry. And they'll catch who did this.”

Laney nods but keeps her face buried in her mom's shoulder. I want to help her so bad. To hug her and tell her I'm here for her. But I can't with her parents there. And maybe she wouldn't want me to anyway. I don't know what to do.

So I leave.

Marcus and Jake follow me to my room. “Where were you tonight?”

Even as I say it, I know how stupid it sounds. But I can't come up with anything else when my thoughts are so wrapped around Laney. “Library.”

“I was at the library. I didn't see you.”

I lift my arm to block my doorway. “It's a big library.”

“What happened to Kollin is messed up.”

“Yeah, it is,” I say.

“Whoever is doing this Sevens stuff needs to be stopped.”

“No kidding.”

The thought of Kollin lying on a gurney with his head bashed in is making me woozy. Kollin, who was willing to help me with Laney despite me picking on him. Kollin, with his stellar future waiting for him. Kollin, with a father who loves him, who's flying over an ocean hoping his kid will be alive when he lands.

And it's my fault.

It should have been me. No future, no family, no great loss. That should have been me.

“Talan, we're your best friends. We'll stand by you, but you have to let us help you,” Marcus says.

Marcus and Jake are the closest thing to brothers I've ever had. But now, all I can think about is that they could be next. Lying in a hospital bed like Kollin, their bodies mangled because Kane suspected they were Sevens too. All because of being friends with me. All because of my big mouth.

“Fuck you,” I say to their stunned faces. “We're not friends anymore. Leave me alone and stay the hell away from me.”

I slam the door on them. And on the life I used to have.

Forty-one

Laney is gone when I get up the next morning. “She had a pretty bad night,” Mom says when I come into the kitchen. “She insisted Dad take her to the hospital to see Kollin this morning.”

I walk to school twenty feet behind my housebrothers. It's like being in kindergarten all over again. They won't talk to me. And that's okay, because anyone who has anything to do with me is in danger now.

They aren't the only ones watching me with suspicious eyes. Word of the assault got out to all student homes last night. As I walk to my locker, there's a hallway of stares branding me. Cameron Moore waits for me, leaning against my locker and smiling smugly. There's a “7” drawn in permanent marker on the front.

“It's not too late,” he whispers as he walks around me. “Mr. Kane is still willing to make a deal.”

At lunch, I sit down at my usual spot and the table goes silent. One by one, beginning with Marcus, the entire group gets up and moves. It's déjà vu. A scene flashes through my head from elementary school, with the same script except everyone was holding their noses.

I stare at Laney's table. The chairs where she and Kollin usually spend lunch are vacant, like no one dared take their place. I get it. I'm scared too. Scared Kollin won't make it and that Laney will never get over losing her best friend. I know how hard that is because I just lost mine … Marcus.

Does she blame me for saying too much to the Pillars? Is that why she couldn't lift her face from her mom's shoulder to look at me? Did she finally figure out I'm trouble and she doesn't want anything to do with me?

I crinkle my lunch bag and my eyes drift away from their empty chairs. The rest of their table glares at me. Actually, the entire lunchroom is glaring at me.

I know I look guilty. I feel guilty. If I hadn't opened my stupid mouth, none of this would have happened. I wonder if any of the angry faces staring me down called me in to the police. I wonder if Marcus has, or will.

Will he tell the police that Laney was cheating on Kollin with me? Will he tell them how I left the dance in a jealous fit over Kollin, or how Kollin and I came to punches a few weeks back in our family room?

One good thing—if Marcus tells on me, the police will report back to Stephen Kane. Then Kane will know Marcus isn't a Seven, and he'll leave him alone.

But then …

My gut twists and my throat clenches until I think I might pass out.
If Marcus tells Officer Lynch that Laney and I were secretly hooking up, and it gets back to Stephen Kane, Kane will assume Laney's a Seven. Who knows what Kane would do to eliminate Laney as a threat?

It's bad enough that Laney would be ostracized like me, walking the halls as the new villain of Singer School. But she'd also be vulnerable to whatever violence Kane decides to inflict. Terror sears through me and I can't sit still. I shove my chair out and bolt for the door.

Please brain, work for me for once. Think of a way to stop this from happening.

I duck into Solomon's room and dump my lunch bag across a desk, poking at a lot of stuff I have no intention of eating. A few minutes later, Marcus comes in, and I ignore him.

His expression is torn. He's riding a fence of friendship and anger with me. “Did you hear about the board meeting? It's not a rumor, either. The Pillars heard it firsthand from Stephen Kane.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The Board is meeting on Friday to vote on selling Singer Enterprises and the school. They're disgusted with all the bad press and everything going down here—the vandalism, violence, and gang activities on campus. They're talking about changing this to a private school. Did you know that?”

I stare at him, blank-faced.

His teeth clench. “Tal, did you hear me? Mr. Kane wants to ‘weed out the riffraff' by changing Singer to a private boarding school that only gives scholarships to underprivileged students with ‘unblemished' records. They'd only keep students with a 3.4 GPA or higher, perfect records, and proven accomplishments. Do you know what that means?”

Before I can answer, he says, “It means my sister and a lot of our friends are done here because Kane and the Board are pissed at the Sevens.” He rubs his forehead, dropping his gaze to the ground.

His hand freezes on his brow as his half-lidded eyes slowly lift to mine. “Please tell me that's not red paint on your shoelace.”

I must have missed a spot last night. “You're ridiculous,” I say, hiding my foot behind my other leg.

His eyes trap me. “I keep telling myself there's got to be a good reason for you to be acting like this, Tal. But it's getting impossible to believe anything you say.” He sighs. “You know, I haven't told anyone about you and Laney yet.”

He's such a loyal friend. I'm not sure if that makes what I'm about to do easier or harder.

“What do I care?” I snap at him. “I dumped Shanahan right after we told you about us.”

I look him straight in the eyes. He has to believe me. For his sake and Laney's.

“So I couldn't care less if you tell on her. I never cared about her in the first place. You know I've never wanted a relationship with a girl. I just wanted to see if I could seduce perfect Laney Shanahan before I graduated. Go out with a bang … literally.” I laugh. “Only the Proud Prude bailed. She said she couldn't hurt Kollin like that, so I dumped her. She even confessed to LeDouche and the loser forgave her. They were ‘working it out.' Why do you think she's so heartbroken now that his head's smashed in?”

“You led Laney on just to screw her?” Marcus' eyes burn a hole through me. “Who
are
you? That's our housesister you're talking about.”

He shoves me and I fly backward off my chair. I stumble to my feet.

“What?” He pushes my shoulders again. “Was it some sort of gang dare or something?” His face tightens. “I'm going to narc you out so bad.”

“Good,” I yell. “Go ahead and tell on us. My reputation's already ruined. What do I care? At least I'd have the pleasure of ruining the Proud Prude's too. I'll tell everyone I nailed her and they can hate the both of us. I'd love to humiliate Kollin with that.
If
he ever wakes up. It's the perfect payback for two goody-goodies who annoyed me every day for the past ten years. Even her parents will be crushed.”

“You don't care if you hurt the Shanahans?”

“Why should I?” I brush myself off. “They don't care that I'm graduating in six months with nowhere to go. They'll replace me with another body and never think twice about me.”

Marcus balls his hands into fists. “What the hell happened to you?” He throws a punch and I duck. I spin around, twisting his arm behind his back and trapping him in a headlock.

“Gentlemen!” Headmaster Boyle sprints through the door. “What's the meaning of this?” He yanks me off Marcus. “Do you know what kind of pressure the administration is under with everything going on here? Do you really think this kind of behavior is a good idea?”

Neither of us says anything.

“Marcus, get back to lunch. Michaels, you're coming with me.” He wrangles the back of my shirt in his fist and shoves me forward. “There are some police detectives who'd like to speak to you in my office.”

When Boyle steps around us to scoop everything back inside my backpack, Marcus whispers, “Looks like I don't need to tell on you after all. But if you hurt Laney or the Shanahans, I'm warning you, Kollin won't be the only one with a bashed-in skull.” He ends it with a look that could put
me
on life support.

The best friend I ever had wishes I was dead.

I can't think about that. He'll always be the best friend I ever had. That's why I have no choice.

Headmaster Boyle zips the backpack and whips it at my chest so hard I barely catch it. He squeezes my elbow and jerks me forward, towing me through the door and down the hall to his office.

When we're finally out of sight of Marcus, I whisper, “Geez. Can you take it easy? That hurts.”

Boyle relaxes his grip. “Consider it payback for all the grief you've given me through the years.” He casts a sidelong smirk at me. “Did you know I was accompanying DCFS on inspections the day you set up the sex doll in my car?”

“I might have heard something about it.” I turn my grin into a scowl in case someone's watching. “Hey,” I whisper, “if you've still got that, can I have her back? I think she'd be a lovely addition to Stephen Kane's office.”

Next thing I know, Boyle's fighting to make his grin look like a scowl too.

Damn. Maybe we are alike.

With a loose hand on my collar, Boyle steers me down the hall. “I only have a couple minutes to talk to you before the police do,” he whispers, “so I'll get to the point. As you probably figured out, Kane is trying to frame you for the attack on Kollin. Apparently some Pillars witnessed a public fight between you two yesterday. It was the opportunity they'd been waiting for to set you up for a serious offense.”

“It was a fake fight,” I say.

“I don't doubt that, but the police will. In Emily's case yesterday, a student made an anonymous call to the Galesburg Police Department, claiming they heard her brag about the vandalism. I'm assuming that was one of the Pillars too. Kane heard that Emily was your girlfriend, so he assumes she's involved. He wanted her expelled before the board meeting, even managed to plant an empty spray paint can in her locker. I was able to remove it before the police came to interrogate her.”

“So Emily's been cleared?”

“The lead officer on the case is an acquaintance of Kane's, so it took a bit of convincing. I gave Emily an alibi for the night the stadium was vandalized. I said she'd been meeting with me—inquiring about employment on campus. They questioned why I'd meet with a student after hours for that, but in the end they couldn't refute it.”

“The whole thing infuriated Kane,” he finishes. “He's livid I didn't do more to prosecute Emily.”

“At least they believed you,” I say.

“Unfortunately, it'll be harder to defend you, Talan. The police had several witnesses report that you slammed Kollin's head into a locker and threatened him yesterday. One caller also mentioned seeing you out alone last night. Where were you? Do you have an alibi for 8:00 p.m.?”

“I went to the hidden room under the mausoleum to copy the poem. I think it'll lead us to the TPD.”

Boyle freezes in place. “What do you mean?”

“I think that poem might actually be the clue for the last test—the one for wisdom.”

Boyle glances around the empty hall, then pulls me into a vacant classroom and shuts the door behind us.

My brain scrambles for a way to explain it. “Singer was an eccentric dude, but his clues were carefully worded and kind of … practical. Most of the tests he gave us built on each other or fit together for the next clue. At first, I assumed he did it that way to protect the secrets and the Sevens in case someone else accidentally stumbled on a clue. T
hen I started thinking there was probably more to it.”

Boyle smiles. “There was always
more to it
when William was involved.”

“Exactly. So I started thinking about that last poem he left on the wall in the secret room.” I dig out the copy in my backpack and show it to him.

“See how Singer wrote:
When you're on your own, and all alone, beginning your final quest?
Why would he specifically mention that you'd be on your own
for your last test? I mean, you were on your own for every test, right?”

Boyle nods.

“So maybe he meant
on your own
, meaning without direction from him.”

Boyle's eyes drift while he thinks.

I point to the poem. “And he used the word
quest.
What else would you be searching for?”

Boyle rubs his chin and says, “Mr. Singer told us that we'd know where the TPD was after the final test. We just assumed that meant that he'd tell us after the last challenge. But in retrospect, you may be right. Maybe Singer meant that finding the TPD
was
the last challenge. You know, we all wondered why he took so long giving us that final clue. He'd given us every other test back-to-back.”

I run my finger down the paper to the bottom of the poem. “And notice how it says: ‘Knowledge is gained through fact compilation; but wisdom is born in its simplification.' Your final test would have been for wisdom. And here it says, ‘Use all you've learned, and you'll solve the last clue.' I think Singer was saying your wisdom challenge was to apply the clues you already had to figure out where the TPD was.”

Boyle's eyes glaze over as he stares, pondering the poem. “This changes everything,” he says. “We assumed Mr. Singer called us together that night to give us the last clue. But maybe he was calling us together for another reason—to check why it was taking us so long to finish the test, or”—his face goes slack as he finishes—“to warn us.”

He scratches his thumbnail back and forth across his bottom lip. “All of our prior tests were labeled with the number and virtue, same as the ones I gave you. I guess we assumed the final test would look like that too.”

“So what do you think?”

He stares up at me. “I think I chose well when I picked you.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Have you told the others about this?”

“Just Kollin.”

Boyle winces at the name. “Kane had no idea that LeBeau was a Seven. If he's willing to assault an innocent kid just to frame you, he's desperate enough to do anything. We need to find that TPD before someone else gets hurt. I'll call Emily down for an appointment and relay your idea to her. She can pass the information on to Laney and Jose. If we all start brainstorming, maybe we can come up with something.”