They All Fall Down

by Roxanne St Claire

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s the only place we’re safe. No one knows about that trailer, and we can talk freely about what to do and not worry about someone killing us.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

  “Suit yourself. Stay home and risk an accident. Or come, but don’t bring anyone.” She gets closer to my face. “And I mean anyone.”

  She walks away, and Dena follows, slowing down to whisper, “Kenzie, please don’t tell anyone else.”

  “She hasn’t told me anything,” Molly says. “So you can quit freaking out.”

  Dena slumps with a sigh of gratitude.

  “But if I do,” I say, “I don’t think that has anything to do with what’s happening.”

  “It might,” Dena says in a harsh whisper. “Don’t take any chances, Kenzie. You’re next. And I’m right after you.”

  I want to reassure her, but I can’t, swallowing hollow words. I just nod and when she leaves, I turn to Molly.

  “Don’t,” she says, cutting me off when I open my mouth. “Don’t tell me anything that will jeopardize your life.”

  “Telling you isn’t going to put me in danger. Anyway, I’m in enough already.”

  “Kenzie, you’re scaring me.”

  She should be scared. We all should be. “Please understand that this has nothing to do with our friendship and I’m not ditching you for these girls.”

  “I know that.” She reaches out and pulls me into a hug. “Please be careful.”

  “I will, I promise.” But I’m not sure I can be careful enough.

  I head into Latin hoping Mr. Irving can be my savior. He won’t know what he’s doing, of course, but I need to get some help translating the page of Latin I got from Jarvis—if that was Jarvis—that matched the paper Levi found in Conner’s jacket pocket.

  It has to hold some kind of answer for me.

  When I hand it to Mr. Irving, he gives me a sympathetic smile. “Preparing for State already, Kenzie? That’s a good way to get your mind off things.”

  I nod and go with the explanation he’s handed me. “I found this on the Internet in a forum about testing, and I thought it might help me.”

  A glimmer of hope crosses his face. “You can go? Did you get the parental consent form signed? The competition’s in less than a month.”

  “Not yet, but …” I point to the paper. “Can you give me some help here?”

  “Sure.” He pulls reading glasses from his pocket and perches on the empty desk next to mine, frowning at the page and glancing at the few notes of translation I’ve already made. The Latin is over my head, though, written in a way that doesn’t make sense to me. I hope that’s not the case with Mr. Irving.

  “Is this a game?” he asks. “Riddles or something?”

  Maybe. “I’m not exactly sure.” I point to a section where I was really lost. “I understand the actual words, but it’s those subtle modern meanings that throw me. Like that one. ‘Hodie mihi, cras tibi.’ I know that translates literally to ‘today to me, tomorrow to you,’ but what’s the figurative translation?”

  “That, Kenzie, reflects the inevitability of change and normally is used to remind a reader of their mortality.”

  Mortality. That doesn’t sound good. “And what about ‘Ex-tinctus amabitur idem’?”

  “Quite famous, actually,” he says. “That’s some lovely insight from the Epistles by Horace, which you’ll read in Latin Four.”

  If I’m still alive by then. “But what does it mean, Mr. Irving?”

  “It means the same man will be loved after he’s dead. Or underground, which is the way some would interpret that.”

  “Underground?”

  “Buried.” He gives me another gentle look. “Are you sure you want to wallow in such morbid stuff today, Kenzie?”

  I don’t answer as a few kids come into the classroom and Mr. Irving takes another look at the paper. “Can I keep this and work on it for a while? It’s fascinating.”

  I left the other copy at home in Conner’s room so I’m hesitant to give this one away. “I really need to study it.”

  He smiles. “I should have ten more students like you, Kenzie. Look, I’m not lecturing today, no one is in the mood. I’m just going to put on a movie about the history of Ephesus, so I’ll make a few notes on this while it runs. How does that sound?”

  As long as he doesn’t figure out that this has something to do with four dead girls. I let him have the paper while the TV screen flashes images of gladiators. The boys are into it; the girls are texting. I’m staring at Irving.

  At one point, he catches me, so I immediately shift my gaze to see a computer-simulated gladiator driving a four-pronged instrument of torture under the knee of an opponent.

  “Ooh, sick!” one of the boys calls out.

  “The only evidence of the quadrant’s use is based on bones found by archeologists.…” The voice drones on as the weapon is enlarged with the word quadrant on the screen and suddenly, I’m riveted. I’ve seen that weapon. I’ve seen it … in the museum cave that Levi and I discovered.

  But the narrator is saying that none have ever been found intact.

  Is that cave some kind of archeological storage room? The video moves on to more gladiator brutality, but my mind is wandering. At the end of class, Mr. Irving waves me up to his desk, his expression a little dark and questioning.

  “Are you doing this because of your brother?”

  The question throws me so much I actually grip the desk to keep from swaying. “What?”

  He waves the paper. “The scholarship? I remember he applied not long before …” His voice trails off in a fade I always recognize. People don’t like to mention Conner’s death, especially teachers who knew him and loved him.

  “What exactly are you talking about?” I ask.

  “The Jarvis Aurelius Memorial Scholarship.”

  I just stare at him. “Jarvis …”

  “I know he left big shoes to fill and that you want to be just like your brother, but that test didn’t go well at all for Conner.”

  I still can’t quite process what he’s saying. “I don’t want to be just like him,” I manage to say. “But what test are you talking about?”

  “The one you take following these instructions.” He slides the paper I’d given him across the desk. “He talked to me the next day and he was upset. I never got the details because that was the day …”

  The day he died. Which was two years ago today. “What did he tell you about the test?” I ask. “He didn’t pass?”

  He shakes his head. “Shocking, I know.” Because Conner was better at Latin than I am. “But he did finish.” He opens his desk drawer. “Not in enough time, but they gave him this consolation prize.”

  I feel myself stepping back, certain of what he’s going to show me. Certain and terrified. Sure enough, it’s a gold coin with the words Nihil Relinquere et Nihil Vestigi engraved on it.

  Mr. Irving looks at it for a long time, turning it in his palm before holding it out to me. “Would you like it, Kenzie?”

  “No, you keep it,” I say. “He must have had a reason for giving it to you.” Like he knew it had a tracking device in it.

  “Oh, he had a reason.” Mr. Irving gives me a slow, sad smile as he holds up the coin. “To warn other kids about the test.”

  My eyes pop open. “To warn them … How?”

  “Do you know what these words mean, Kenzie?”

  I nod without reading it. “ ‘To leave nothing behind and no trace.’ ”

  “No, no, on this side. Look.”

  I lean closer and squint at the words, certain there was nothing on the back of the coin that Josh left at the convenience store. So maybe this one is different.

  “You can read that, Kenzie.”

  Secreta sodalitas sicariorum. My brain starts to translate … and a fine chill crawls up my spine and settles at the base of my neck, weighing me down.

  A secret society of assa
ssins.

  “Assassins?” I can barely get the word out.

  “In other words, the test is a killer even if you just take it online, and I wouldn’t put myself through it if the only thing you’re trying to prove is that you can walk in the shoes of your brother.”

  Assassins?

  I take a step backward, my head spinning and light. “Then I probably won’t take it,” I say. And it’s not online, but that seems to be what Mr. Irving thinks.

  He gives me a smile and returns the coin to his desk. “Thank you for letting me keep it. Conner was one of my favorite students.”

  “He was everyone’s favorite,” I say, more out of rote than emotion.

  “But you’re actually a better student,” he adds quickly. “You go deeper into the language and the culture. He just wanted to get his A and move on. This test really shook him up.”

  “How, exactly?” I ask.

  “He didn’t give me a lot of detail, but he did say not to let any of my students go for it. He said it damn near killed him.” He cringes instantly. “God, that was … I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head and gesture for him not to worry about it. But something did kill Conner … and maybe I had nothing to do with that death.

  I just had to stay alive long enough to prove that to myself.

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  By evening, I’m freaked that I haven’t heard a word from Levi in hours. He texted in the middle of the day just to see if I was okay but didn’t reply to my urgent message that I had news.

  Frustrated, I hole up in my room and consider my options. I don’t want to be specific about what Irving told me in a text to Levi, and I’m actually scared to Google anything. Maybe someone has my Internet access tracked, too.

  I get a few texts from Dena reminding me that there’s a meeting tonight, but I’m not sure if I should go. I could put an end to that curse business with my assassins news … except I don’t know enough to do anything but get them all worked up.

  To pass the time, I’ve completely translated the Latin paper, but the translations mean virtually nothing. They’re just a set of unrelated statements that are like puzzle pieces with no picture to follow. I don’t know where to begin with sentences like A strong shield is the safety of leaders and There remains a shadow of a great name.

  I hear a car in the driveway and sit up, willing it to be Levi, even though I know he’d be on a motorcycle. But when I hear Molly’s voice after Mom opens the door, a different kind of happiness rolls through me. I need her almost as much as I need Levi.

  We meet halfway on the stairs and hug again.

  “C’mon, let’s go,” she whispers.

  “Where?”

  “To the meeting.”

  I inch back and shake my head, immediately taking her up to my room so my mom doesn’t hear us.

  “I’m not going there with you,” I say, pulling her in and closing the door. “And not because you don’t belong there.”

  “I don’t,” she says quickly, with no bitterness in her voice. “But I belong with you. Come on, Kenzie, you know something bad could happen to you. You know you’re next on that list. What if they’re right? What if there is a curse? I’ll go with you and be your bodyguard.”

  A surge of affection swells but I refuse the offer. “There is no curse, Molly. But …” I glance at my bed, where I’ve left the translations and all my questions. I have to share with someone. “But there might be …” An assassin. “A killer.”

  “What?”

  “Shhh.” I pull her closer, barely fighting the need to pour all this out on her. But is that fair? Is that safe? “There’s stuff … going on.”

  She glares at me. “No shit.”

  “It might involve …” I close my eyes and say it. “Conner’s death.”

  Sucking in her breath, she grabs me. “If you don’t tell me everything, and I mean everything, right now, I will kill you myself.”

  I lose the battle and pull her to the bed, the whole story spilling out in nearly incoherent sentences, but she’s smart and seems to follow it all well enough, knowing better than to interrupt me with a million questions.

  When I finally finish, she grabs the paper and folds it up, stuffing it into my hand. “You are going to tell the girls everything and then, with me, we are all going to the police.”

  I stare at her. “You think we should? What if they get to me first?”

  “They have to get through me, and I’m not on any stinkin’ Hottie List, thank God.” She pulls me off the bed. “I can find that trailer again. Come on.”

  God, I love her. “Okay, let’s go.”

  She peppers me with questions during the drive out to the country, but I can’t answer many of them. Including why I haven’t heard from Levi in hours.

  “Maybe that’s how he wants it,” she suggests.

  “What do you mean?”

  For the first time, she doesn’t answer right away, pretending to be focused on the dark road and the beams of her VW headlights.

  “Come on, Molly, you can’t drop a bomb like that and not tell me what you mean.”

  “I mean …” She shifts in her seat. “I don’t think he’s good enough for you, Kenzie.”

  I grunt. “You don’t know him.”

  “I don’t have to know him. He’s got a reputation.”

  “Like I said, you don’t know him. You know his reputation, which is based on hearsay and rumors and, okay, maybe he had some issues back at his old school, but he’s really trying to turn his life around.”

  “Are you going to just ignore the elephant in this car?” she asks.

  “The elephant in the car?” I try for humor. “Who says that?”

  She doesn’t laugh. “He almost killed a girl in a stolen car. And that’s not just a bad reputation, Kenzie. That’s on the Internet.”

  I inhale slowly, a little sick that she cyberstalked him.

  “Don’t be mad,” she says. “I’m your bodyguard, remember?”

  “It was …” An accident. But I can’t even say the words.

  “And he admitted he was at the quarry. And he left Starbucks right before Chloe died.”

  “He was with me when Amanda and Kylie went off that bridge,” I insist.

  “A perfect alibi. What if something was done to their brakes?”

  I hate where she’s going with this. Hate it. He has been in the wrong place at the wrong time more than once.

  She doesn’t reply, but turns onto the dirt path and we drive in silence, the little Bug jostling us over the ruts, each one making my heart ache. Not Levi. Not Levi.

  And then her headlights shine right onto his Kawasaki, parked directly in front of the trailer. Oh, Levi. I can’t even breathe.

  “What’s he doing here?” Molly asks.

  There are three other cars parked on the grass, and I immediately recognize them as belonging to Dena, Shannon, and Bree, who probably brought Candace and Ashleigh. They’re all here … with Levi?

  “What is he doing here?” I repeat Molly’s question because nothing makes any sense right now.

  “Guess we better find out.”

  As she stops the car, I put a hand on her arm. “Would you consider staying here until I find out what’s going on?”

  She smirks. “No.”

  I’m not going to fight her, so we get out and walk toward the trailer, the only sound some crickets and a soft night breeze, the only light a dim bulb in the living room.

  “It’s quiet,” Molly whispers.

  It sure is. What’s going on in there? My heart is crawling up to my throat, the pulse so hard and steady it’s vibrating my whole body. I walk up one step to the front door and raise my hand to knock.

  “What’s that smell?” Molly asks.

  I sniff, getting a whiff of something putrid.

  “Whoa, that stinks.” She covers her mouth. “Like rotten eggs.”

  Everything inside me turns ice cold. “Oh my God.” I slam my hand on the doorknob, n
ot even thinking, not even caring what’s on the other side. I recognize that smell. “It’s gas!”

  The door flies open with almost no pressure and I practically fall into the tiny living area, the smell so strong I nearly gag.

  “Kenzie, look!” Molly points to the sofa, where Dena and Candace lie perfectly still, eyes closed. On the floor are Bree, Shannon, and Ashleigh.

  I lunge toward them, thoughts of Levi gone as I pray they’re still alive. Molly’s already leaning over Shannon’s body, lifting her wrist. I put my hand over Dena’s mouth and feel the faintest of breaths.

  Almost immediately I have a headache, the smell of gas is so strong.

  “We have to get them out of here,” I say, already pulling Dena.

  “I’ll call nine-one-one.”

  “There’s no time!” I’m dragging Dena to the door. “They’ll die. Let’s get them out and then call.”

  “What about—”

  “Molly!”

  She shuts up and grabs Shannon, helping me drag two bodies out onto the grass. We leave them there. Sucking in clean air, we both tear back in for two more, finding superhuman strength as I pull Candace and Molly takes Ashleigh, who moans but doesn’t wake up.

  My arms are on fire as I clunk Candace down the single step and practically thrust her to the grass. She doesn’t even flinch.

  Oh, God, don’t let her die. Don’t let her die.

  “Let’s get Bree!” Molly says, and I start to run with her, then catch a glimpse of the motorcycle that shouldn’t be here.

  “You get her,” I say, hauling past Molly to the back of the trailer. “He might be back there.”

  I don’t know why or how, but I have to look.

  Molly grabs my arm. “Don’t, Kenzie!” She yells through the hand she has covering her mouth and nose. “We have to get out of here. This thing could explode any second!”

  Horror rocks me. She’s right, but …“Just let me look, Molly. I can’t let him die. Get her.” I give her a shove toward Bree and bolt down a little hallway to a darkened bedroom.

  “Levi!” I call, but there’s only silence. I hear Molly grunt as she works to get Bree, and I peer into the bedroom, seeing no one. A wave of nausea grips me as the gas invades my body, making me gag, but I force myself to go over to the closet and throw the door open. I can’t let him die.