by Cody Wagner
Suddenly, Roze gasped.
“What?” Cassie and I both said.
“Look at the guardian info.”
I scanned the image until I saw it. Listed as Jimmy’s guardian was one Robert Blackwood. Along with his name, I saw an address in Washington D.C.
“Yes!” I shrieked.
“Noisy!” Roze said, covering her ears. But she was grinning.
I continued scanning the page. After seeing nothing else of interest, I said, “Ready for the next one.”
Cassie lowered her head. “There is no next one.”
“What?” I said.
“There was only the one page.”
“Are you kidding me?” Roze said. “Tracey said hers had tons.”
Cassie shifted onto her knees. “Sanctuary’s taken the other pages.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Obviously, there were things they didn’t want anyone to know.”
“I can’t believe this,” Roze said.
Cassie nodded while staring at the pic as if some magic secret would jump out.
Because the whole thing was my idea, I felt it was my job to put a positive spin on it. I hopped up and went to my desk. “Let’s see if we find anything on Robert Blackwood before losing hope.”
“OK,” Roze said. “At least we were on the right track. Jimmy’s files must have had something good.”
“You know what Washington D.C. probably means?” Cassie asked.
“Government,” Roze said.
A jolt ran up my back. We’d speculated that higher ups were involved in the whole Siren thing. Maybe this would give us the proof we needed. My fingers tingled as I pulled up a browser and began searching for Robert Blackwood in Washington D.C. A few minutes later, we hit something.
“Look.” I pointed at the screen.
“Yes!” Roze said.
The image that appeared had to be Jimmy’s uncle. The man in the picture was a round, jovial man. His grin was infectious. In fact, his smile was identical to Jimmy’s. He probably lit up the stage, too. I found myself taking deep breaths to keep from getting too emotional.
Cassie leaned in and read, “Robert Blackwood, Director of the Advisory Council on Lighthouses.”
The words snapped me out of my thoughts. “Lighthouses?”
“Search for it,” Roze said.
I searched Advisory Council on Lighthouses, and the results were exactly what I expected. “The A.C.L. is responsible for the preservation of lighthouses in America,” I read. “They designate lighthouses as national monuments, protecting them and making them available for restoration financial aid.”
I groaned and looked at Roze. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I have a thought,” Roze said.
“What? I’m desperate.”
Roze grabbed the chair in front of Cassie’s computer, pulled it over, and sat. “In Greek mythology, the Sirens would lure ships to rocky shores, right? If the sailors couldn’t escape, their ships would be destroyed.”
“Exactly,” Cassie said, obviously catching on.
Roze grinned. “If you think about it, what’s the job of a lighthouse?”
The light bulb went on in my head. “Oh my god. They stop ships from crashing.” I rubbed my hands together. “This group keeps the Siren at bay?”
“The whole preservation thing must be a ruse,” Cassie said.
“The name is brilliant,” Roze said.
“On the surface, it looks totally boring,” I said.
“But what exactly do they do?”
That was the million-dollar question. And one we spent the next two hours researching, only to come up with nothing. We weren’t surprised, though. Just like with the Siren, we didn’t expect any giant secrets to pop-up online. It didn’t stop excitement from buzzing through my body, though. We’d found information. Finally!
I looked at Roze, who smiled while staring absently at the screen. Cassie watched her.
Suddenly, Roze snapped out of her reverie. “Hey wait.”
“What?” Cassie said.
Roze stood up. “If there’s an entire government organization to deal with the Siren, why was Jimmy the Seeker? I mean, wouldn’t it have been someone way more important?”
It was time to lie again. I shrugged, acting casual. “That means it’s genetic, right? Robert Blackwood must have been a Seeker.”
“Makes sense,” Roze said.
There was a pause before Cassie whispered, “When Jimmy was older, he would have been transferred to the government.”
Roze and I stared at her. I knew Sanctuary pretty much owned Jimmy, but would he have been property of the government for the rest of his life?
Roze must have been thinking the thing same thing because she said, “That sounds awful.”
I nodded.
Cassie shivered violently. I figured she was conjuring imaginary scenes of Jimmy, strapped down like a rat, while doctors injected cream of wheat into his veins.
I started picturing other scenarios, when suddenly, Jimmy’s face was replaced with my own. Now I was the one lying on a gurney while guys in black suits questioned me under huge halogen lights. I shivered right along with Cassie. If I told Sanctuary about my power, would the government own me for the rest of my life?
“I think we need to relax,” Roze said, touching Cassie’s shoulder. “Look how much Jimmy loved it here. Why would they let him live such a great life at Sanctuary only to mistreat him later? It wouldn’t make sense.”
Cassie didn’t look any happier.
Roze nudged me. “That makes sense, right?”
“Right,” I said, joining the positivity train.
“If anything,” Cassie said, “the lighthouse council would have had to protect Jimmy after he left here.”
A horrible thought hit, and I jerked in my chair, my hands flying to the keyboard.
“What?” Roze asked.
I didn’t answer as I searched for Robert Blackwood, Washington D.C., and obituary. Pay dirt. The first link brought up the same picture of Robert we’d looked at earlier.
I sat back, scared. “He was only forty-three when he died.”
“So?” Roze asked.
“What if they didn’t keep him safe.” I stared at my hands, images of Jimmy bleeding out running through my head. “What if they failed.”
Roze covered her mouth. “The Siren killed him.”
Cassie bit her lip, but said, “You don’t know that.”
“It makes sense,” I said. Had two people in Jimmy’s family died because of the Siren? My previous excitement drained out as I imagined Jimmy’s entire family lying dead in the street. Then I imagined myself joining them, and I wanted to throw the monitor out the window.
“Hey,” Cassie said.
I looked up to see her staring, not at me, but over my head. Before I could respond, she whispered, “That doesn’t change anything. Our mission is still the same.”
“True,” Roze said.
I nodded. She was right. Technically, the only difference was that we had new information, and that was a good thing. That meant we were one step closer to finding the Siren, and one step close to avenging Jimmy’s family. That helped ease the hurt, and I smiled, picturing Cassie having one of her classic debates with Roze about duty outweighing everything else.
We chatted a few more minutes about the Siren, but when nothing new came up, the subject drifted to Roze’s situation. In the moment, her being busted as a traitor seemed almost as precarious as fighting the Siren because this drama was shoved right in our faces, right now.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” I asked.
“Of course,” Roze said. “Why?”
I shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. I mean, what do you think Darrin and Tracey will do?”
“I’m not worried,” Roze said. “The jocks don’t bother me. They’ll probably start drawing the comic Traitor Roze. Big deal.”
A calm fury appeared on Cassie’s face. “
I can’t believe Tracey did that to you.”
Roze pointed at her. “That’s the only part that bugs me.”
I nodded then found myself blurting, “I’m just gonna say I’m worried.”
“Why?” Roze said.
I stood and began pacing. “Last year, when we found out we had a traitor, a bunch of people talked about all the crap they wanted to do for revenge. If we’d found the person, their life would have been miserable.”
“Big whoop,” Roze said.
I stopped and looked at her. “We all know Tracey can be pretty mean.”
Cassie nodded.
“You guys, enough. It’s no big deal. Besides, how bad can it get?” Roze asked.
Sadly, the answer was really bad.
Fourteen
Traitor Games
I practically ran to the older dorm the following morning. My plan was to escort Roze to the Classroom Center. Of course, I wasn’t going to tell her that; she’d refuse my help. For all she knew, I was just casually strolling by. I even practiced acting surprised to see Roze exit.
By the time she made her way out, my expression was so exaggerated, I even covered my mouth in pretend shock at seeing her. She rolled her eyes.
“Will you be my bodyguard?” she teased.
“What? I just happened to be heading to class.”
“Whatever,” she said. “Either way, you’re too late to save me.”
“Huh?”
She gestured down at her clothes, and I covered my mouth for real. Her outfit had been shredded. The t-shirt she wore was so torn, she had to wear another one underneath.
I knew I’d end up mad at the older dorm, but I wasn’t prepared for this. They’d done actual monetary damage. That wasn’t revenge; it was disgusting.
“I think it’s trendy,” Roze said.
I shook my head. “Does it really not bother you?”
She threw up her hands. “Obviously, I’m not thrilled, but it’s not the end of the world. Besides, they’re not getting to me.”
With that, Roze headed to the Classroom Center. She moved so quickly, I had to jog to keep up.
“Tracey did this,” I said. “At the very least, she let people into your room.”
“I know.”
“Did they get everything?”
“No, but I hate that they got my bras.”
“T.M.I.,” I said. But I was pissed. If my wardrobe had been destroyed, it would have set my parents back a lot. I think Roze’s family had money, but that didn’t make the situation any better.
Neither did the older students heading to class.
All the way to the Classroom Center, we heard shouts of, “Narc!”, “Traitor!”, and, “The 80s called and want their clothes back.” Then, a guy and girl ran by throwing water balloons. One exploded across Roze’s back, leaving a giant water flower.
“Crappy aim,” Roze said, pulling a piece of rubber off her shoulder.
Anger spots floated in front of my eyes, and I flung pieces of broken water balloons at anyone else who got too close.
When we were finally seated at our desks in Geometry, I prayed for Ms. Meeks to arrive early. At least we’d be relatively safe while she taught. I mentally punched myself; I was hoping for math? Gross.
Just then, Roze’s other roommate, Doug, marched straight up to Roze and held out a bag.
“Here.”
Roze looked at the bag. “What’s this?”
“Your red shirt.” Before she could grab it, he dropped it on the floor. “I’m out.”
I’m sure Roze had tried to picture every terrible thing the older dorm could have done to her. She probably imagined balloons and name-calling and insults and comics. Unfortunately, she one-million-percent wasn’t expecting people to turn their backs on a good cause. It was such a surprise, she couldn’t hide the hurt on her face.
“You’re quitting the Red Shirt Brigade?”
“Yup.” Doug walked to his seat.
Roze grabbed the shirt and held it up. “You’re going to let people get bullied? Because of The Pumpkin Bash?”
Doug didn’t respond.
Roze got louder. “Seriously!?”
No response.
Roze marched up to him. “Punish me all you want, but not other students. Not because of a stupid game.”
Doug spun on her and put a finger in her face. “You betrayed us.” His voice sounded every bit as hurt as Roze’s. “This isn’t about a stupid game. It’s the principal.” His voice shrunk to a whisper, but it seemed to carry across the universe. “In one move, you bullied every single student in our dorm. Your dorm.”
Roze flinched as if she’d been slapped. I felt the aftershock and took a step back. Things got even worse when another student came up and threw her red shirt at Roze. This was bad.
Tears appeared in Roze’s eyes. It set me off. No one had any idea what we were trying to fight. Roze’s betraying her dorm could have saved every stupid person here.
I marched up to Roze. “I forgot my shirt. Can I borrow one?”
It was the dumbest statement ever because I was clearly wearing a red shirt. Roze squinted at me and didn’t move, so I reached out and took both shirts in her hand. Then I pulled them over the one I was already wearing and stood there in three red shirts. One of them was so small, I heard a rip in the shoulder.
I stuck out my chest and heard another rip, but I didn’t care. “Let’s see someone get picked on now.”
I didn’t know what I was trying to accomplish, but Roze smiled. My dorkiness saved the day for once.
But it could only go so far.
Roze showed up in the cafeteria a few hours later with a bag full of ripped red shirts. Her legs were soaked from more water balloon attacks. She trudged over to us as if she’d lost an armful of kittens. Cassie covered her mouth, tears springing into her eyes. I sighed. Roze didn’t think the older dorm could get to her. She was wrong.
Roze plopped down next to us and set the bag next to her. Cassie immediately put her arm around Roze. Neither of them flinched.
“Want me to put those in our room?” I asked.
Roze shook her head. “Why bother? I’m gonna get more.”
I stood up. “I’ll get your lunch.”
Normally, Roze would have refused, but she nodded and whispered, “Thanks.”
I navigated the lunch stations carefully. Everyone knew Roze was my friend, and I pictured someone from the older dorm giving me Loogey Lasagna. That’s why I peeled the top off some Cleansing Casserole and scooped a spoonful from the bottom. If anything, Roze would have a decent lunch, free of tampering.
Not that she ate much.
After picking at some casserole, she pushed her tray away.
“I can’t believe they’d dissolve the Red Shirt Brigade because of this,” Cassie said.
Roze shrugged. “I think they’re planning to start their own thing. At least that’s good.”
She didn’t sound happy, though. Roze was passionate about her cause, and being left out had to hurt. Besides, I didn’t think anyone would do as good a job. While the Red Shirt Brigade wasn’t working miracles yet, I’d noticed several students acting much less nervous in classes.
“Yeah, I’m not hungry.” Roze pushed her tray away and stood up. “I’m gonna head to the gym.”
I flew up. “Me too.”
Roze looked me up and down as if determining my motive. Finally, she shrugged and walked away. Truth be told, I was more nervous for gym than anything else. Especially after what had happened to Tracey earlier this year. If we were running the track again, Adkins couldn’t possibly babysit us the entire time. It was easier to keep your eyes on a twenty-by-twenty classroom than a million-by-million field. Or however big it was.
On the way to the gym, Roze put up with another chorus of jeers and taunts by the older dorm.
“Let’s be a little late,” I said. I figured the later we arrived, the greater the chance Coach Adkins would be around.
Roze im
mediately said, “OK.”
We made a wide arc around the gymnasium, pausing behind it when we saw nobody around. I sat on the curb and Roze joined me.
“This is where we all met last year for the trip to Little Rock.”
Roze nodded. “It feels like forever ago.”
“Yeah.”
After a few minutes of silence, Roze said, “I’m glad we found out about Jimmy’s uncle.”
“Me, too.”
“It will give me something to do.”
I caught on and scooted a bit closer to her. She needed a distraction from all this mess, and it turned out the Siren would give it to her. Maybe Roze would figure the whole thing out. Probably not, but still.
We sat there chatting a few more minutes until the first bell rang. I took a deep breath. “You ready?”
She pushed herself up. “Duh.”
“There’s the annoying Roze I know and love.”
She punched my shoulder, but not very hard.
We were the last ones into the gym. Everyone was already on the bleachers, dressed in exercise clothes. That meant Roze could change in peace. My spirits sank, though, when we emerged from our locker rooms, and I saw her sweat pants had been cut into shorts. The edges were uneven as if done using those round-tipped kid scissors.
The older dorm broke into laughter.
“Shopping in the pumpkin again?” Tracey said. That sent the jocks into fits of laughter.
I expected a witty comeback. Instead, Roze said, “You’re disgusting.” Her tone sent a chill down my legs. It was the kind parents used to make their kids cry from guilt. Even Tracey was a bit caught off guard, and she didn’t respond.
“Good day, class.” Adkins walked in holding a clipboard. He rounded on us, his eyes taking in Roze’s outfit. “Today we’re going to run two miles.”
“Two?” an unathletic guy said. He shrunk like he was dehydrating.
“We’ve never done two,” the guy’s equally unathletic friend said.
I agreed with their hesitance, not because of the distance, but because two miles gave the jocks plenty of time to murder Roze and dispose of the body.
I looked at Adkins and did that thing where I shook my head at him, hoping he’d see my desperation.
He didn’t appear to notice me. Instead, he rapped on his clipboard with his knuckles and said, “Pace yourself, take breaks, and try your best. It’s about getting better, not winning. Now, let’s go!”