Handpicked

by Dani Oden

  "No, he's on top."

  "Doesn't matter," she answered. "Hope they're fast."

  We sat in silence for a few more minutes, suffering through the occasional gasp or murmur, before the telltale rhythmic creaking started.

  I couldn't see Lindy’s face, but I felt her stiffen next to me. She squeezed my leg, trying not to laugh. Before I could stop myself, I peeked again. Now they were indeed naked from the waist down. He was on top while she was on bottom, her legs all akimbo as they were enthusiastically going at it. She was blond with streaky highlights, and he had brown or black hair with product in it. That was about all I could tell from our angle.

  "Well, that escalated quickly." I whispered, crouching back down.

  "I hope they're using protection," she replied under her breath, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

  The creaking grew louder and faster, and was punctuated by the occasional pant or squeal, before they both finally peaked with some theatrical thumps and encouragements.

  By this point, my head was between my knees and I was covering my ears to keep from exploding with adolescent laughter. Lindy had buried her face in robes.

  Just after their finale, we heard the door open and close again.

  Lindy got up first, checked the opening and reported, "They're gone."

  "Wow," I stood up. "They didn't even cuddle."

  She gripped the handle as if she was about to open the door again, but I reached over and tugged at her shirt to stop her. "Not yet, in case someone else comes in. There's got to be a light in here, I saw it shining through before."

  "Good call," she agreed. First, we felt around on the walls, then she found the dangling chain in the center of the room. One bare bulb in the ceiling glowed eerily at us.

  The collection of robes was about a hundred times scarier without the brightness and space of the library as a buffer. Thoughts of the couple and of my Rose Guy were long gone and suddenly, nothing was funny anymore.

  "What the eff?" my mouth said when it finally found words. Lindy, who was just as terrified, didn’t have an answer for me.

  There had to have been at least two hundred robes, identical in style but in different sizes, all facing the same way in the closet. In one corner, there was a bin holding a bunch of tiny ropes.

  I pulled one off the hanger and held it up. It was one of the darkest shades of black that I had ever seen, with an enormous heavy hood weighing it down, and long, loose sleeves. The gold embroidery went all along the front. Some of the shapes I recognized as Greek letters, while some of the shapes, a tiny hourglass, a thorny rose, a scale, a sword, I had no explanation for.

  "Do they look familiar to you?" I said.

  She nodded. "They're just like KKK robes but dark and full of symbols."

  "Can you imagine a hundred girls all parading around in these? Why? What do we need them for?"

  "A ritual?" Lindy said, as if she was afraid of the word. "Or, like, a ceremony?"

  "What kind of ceremony?" I said.

  "I don't want to know," she answered.

  Lindy moved to the box of rope, sifting the contents around. "These remind me of the honor cords we wore at graduation," she said. "Maybe there’s something similar here."

  "Here's more," I said, spotting another small, wooden box behind some of the longer robes. She came back to my side, and we opened it together. Inside were two already-burnt black candles, and a huge, dirty knife.

  The lid practically slammed itself shut.

  "What was that? Blood?" Lindy panicked, grabbing my arm. "Why was there stuff on the blade?"

  In about four seconds, we heaved the door open, turned off the light, and pulled the wall closed behind us. I shoved the foam brick back the way we’d found it, and together we ran out of the library.

  "Did you see? Was that blood?" she asked again as we scrambled back to the stairwell.

  "I don't know," I said, trying to catch my breath. "I don't want to know."

  The well-lit entry-way and dining room were such a contrast to the eerie space we'd just seen, it was like coming out of a movie theater during the light of day. By this point, the satisfied couple was long gone, and most of the other girls had cleared out of the main floor. The only ones who remained were those whose buzzes had carried them past sloppiness and hunger, into the pensive, chatty stage. Most seemed to be in the middle of serious meaning-of-life conversations over their plain bread and water.

  Lindy and I sat on a couch in the far corner of the living room, keeping our voices low and our faces as calm as possible.

  "Were we just in a secret ritual closet?" I asked my friend.

  "I think so," she whispered back.

  "And we saw hundreds of creepy-ass robes, ropes, candles, and a knife?"

  "Why would we need...that stuff?" I said.

  "I have no idea," she replied. "My mom never said anything about ropes and knives."

  NINE

  Trying to sleep that night was pointless. The few times I did end up dozing off, I had dreams of faceless sorority girls in tattered black robes roaming the streets like zombies. After lying awake for hours, I got up before seven and went by Lindy's desk room and found her up, too. Together, we staked out Hannah's closet and forced her to go to coffee with us as soon as she got back from Evan's.

  "Can I shower first?" she requested, but Lindy and I shook our heads.

  "Is this about the library?" she sensed the urgency.

  "Shh, not here," I told her, glancing around. "We can't talk here."

  The morning air was cool and crisp, though more than once I caught the stench of beer wafting the bushes as we walked through the Greek System. After settling at a little coffee shop on campus, Lindy and I told Hannah the whole story, from the squishy brick to the dirty knife blade. We were all so engaged in the conversation that none of us even sipped our coffee for the first twenty minutes.

  "Holy cow," Hannah said when we were done, so distraught that she wasn't even cussing.

  "I know," I told her.

  "The robes...were they, like, death robes?"

  "What's a death robe?" I asked, while at the same time, Lindy said definitively, "Yes."

  My drink was lukewarm by this point. As I set my mug down, I could have sworn I felt someone watching me. I turned around, but the only other table was occupied by a girl holding the school paper.

  "What?" Lindy said, sensing my unease.

  "Nothing, just still have that creepy feeling."

  Hannah wiped her mouth. "No seriously, they were death robes?"

  "And a knife. A dirty one," I said.

  Lindy took out her phone and punched in what I assume was a search for "Scary-ass terrifying robes." Once she had an image intense enough to compare to what we saw, she held her screen out to Hannah. "Kinda like this, but worse."

  "That's messed up," Hannah said definitely, taking another swallow of her nonfat mocha.

  Lindy held her phone out to me, and I shuddered. "No, thanks. I don't need to see pictures. I was there, remember?"

  Not surprisingly, Hannah decided she couldn't rest until she saw the death robes for herself. So, that night, when two-thirds of the girls in our house were home for the weekend and the other third were still nursing their hangovers, we set our alarms for four in the morning. We agreed to meet in my closet room and head downstairs together.

  When I arrived a few minutes after four, the two of them were waiting for me, both in slouchy pajama pants and hooded sweatshirts. We blinked at each other for a few groggy moments, our vision blurry and our eyes scrunched in the light.

  "Why did four sound like a good idea again?" I asked as we trudged down the stairs.

  "So we don't get caught with the gloom gowns," Lindy explained. “Did anyone check on where the studiers went?”

  “Home, I think. Did you just say ‘gloom gowns’?” I said.

  "Yeah, gloom gowns. No?"

  "Doesn't work," I shook my head at her.

  "So are we still calling
them death robes?" she asked.

  "I think so," I told her.

  Hannah yawned at us. "I can't effing believe I agreed to this," she said, shaking her wrist to let her favorite bracelet slide down.

  "You requested it," I reminded her.

  "I know. That was before I knew we were going to do it at four in the morning.”

  We reached the basement and exited the stairwell. Hannah hesitated briefly, about to ask something.

  "What?" Lindy said before our friend got the words out.

  "Nothing," Hannah said, but the expression on her face didn't change. Lindy and I moved toward the library, though Hannah remained still.

  Before she could change her mind, Lindy said firmly, "I don't want to have to do this again so if you want to see it, this is the only way. Unless you want to go by yourself, then you can do whatever you want."

  "Fine, fine. It's fine. I'm just tired. Aren't you tired?" Hannah said.

  "Of course we're tired," I said.

  "Okay, good. We're all on the same page," Hannah said, a hint of fear in her voice.

  Lindy changed the subject as we approached the door. "I need to remember to take a picture this time. I want to see if I can find similar robes on Google and see what they actually are."

  "Other than sorority robes?" Hannah said. "You think they're something else?"

  "Just wait until you see them," I said.

  The library's huge double doors, which before had seemed grand, now only seemed ominous. We stood in a row in front of them with our disheveled bed head and out mismatched PJs, staring. Finally I said, "This is stupid. It's just a bunch of clothing.” I pushed them open with shaking hands. They followed me inside, jumping as I turned on the light.

  "Should we lock the door?" Hannah suggested.

  “We can’t,” I said.

  “Or should we try and block it? In case someone tries to follow us?"

  “Like who?” Lindy asked

  "People in death robes," our friend said, half-joking.

  We all remained quiet for a few moments, considering her idea. I cleared my throat, "Actually, it wouldn't hurt."

  "Are we afraid of the other girls here?" Hannah asked.

  "No, we're afraid of getting caught," I clarified.

  Hannah went to scoot the nearest table, but I grabbed her wrist. "Not that one. That's the dirty one."

  "Oh, thank you," she said genuinely, remembering the x-rated part of the story. We silently scooted the second-closest table over the beige carpet, carefully positioning it by the door. We walked side-by-side to the looming brick mantel, stopping about six feet directly in front of it.

  "It's that one-" I began, lifting my arm to point, but Hannah shook her head adamantly.

  "Can I guess which brick it was? I want to see if I can tell."

  "Be my guest," I told her. Lindy and I leaned against a study carrel as she inspected, staring so intently at the wall her nose nearly touched it. Finally, after a full minute, she pointed triumphantly.

  "This one!"

  "Try it," Lindy urged. Hannah poked the brick but nothing happened, it was as hard as a rock.

  "This one?" she tried again.

  "Nope," we shook our heads.

  "That one?" she pointed, still stalling.

  "No," I said, finally standing up straight. "I'll show you."

  From memory, I pulled the foam brick out of its spot, much to Hannah's amazement. I handed it to her wordlessly, and she squeezed it between her fingers and tossed it from one hand to another. She dropped it on the second throw, but none of us reacted. Our nerves were wound way too tightly.

  Lindy reached in and expertly unlocked the wall. We pulled it back together, revealing the hidden space.

  Hannah, who stood back and could see into the closet, gasped loudly.

  "I know, right?" I said to her over my shoulder as we slid the bricks inside the wall. "It's even scarier up close."

  "Was that there last night?" she asked in a shaky voice.

  "Was what there?" Lindy asked, stepping back. Her eyes grew large, and I turned around to see for myself.

  The robes were gone. The closet was empty, except for the dirty knife stabbed right in the center of the floor.

  TEN

  "From the way you guys talked about it, I thought they'd be right here. What's next? Another secret brick?" Hannah said cautiously to Lindy and me.

  I couldn't speak. Lindy turned in my direction, her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows raised.

  Hannah waited, expecting a quick answer. "Oh," she finally said.

  "Where'd they all go?" Lindy breathed.

  I shook my head, still not quite able to form words. Chills pulsed down my spine and into my upper arms as we surveyed the empty space. The closet seemed bigger without the robes. For the first time, I noticed the dark wooden walls were stained, with knots in them the color of coffee beans.

  Lindy stepped into the vacant space, pulled on the light, and plucked the knife from the beige carpeting lining the library floor. It seemed to be the same one we’d found the day before, though now it was covered in dirty, splattered wax.

  "Lindy!" Hannah gasped.

  "What?" she asked, innocently.

  "Don't touch it," Hannah warned her, but she didn't listen.

  "Is that for us? Do you think they know we were here?" I asked cautiously.

  "How would they know? It was the middle of the night and no one was around," Lindy pointed out.

  "That girl and her man toy could have known," Hannah offered.

  "No way," I shook my head. "They didn't see us, they were way too distracted.,"

  "They may have known you were there and just not have cared," she shrugged. "Or, they may have liked it."

  "Gross. But, I don't think so. They never went further than a few feet from the door, and they didn't seem to react to anything except each other. I don't think they saw us," I said definitively.

  Lindy said, "Maybe a camera?"

  The three of us scanned the ceiling, our eyes darting from corner to corner. "If so, it's hidden well," I said.

  "Should we stop?" Hannah asked, making it clear she wanted to.

  "And go back upstairs?" Lindy asked.

  "Yeah," Hannah said slowly.

  "If it's a camera, we're already caught," I pointed out. No one spoke for a few moments. "So we might as well look around a bit more?" I finally asked.

  "Might as well," Lindy agreed. She began walking the perimeter of the tiny room, running her hands along the dark wood walls and absently drumming her finger nails, taking in the entire space.

  Hannah stood up a little straighter as she realized we weren't going anywhere. She adjusted her sleeves and ran a nervous hand through her hair. "I totally want to know where the robes went, you guys. I swear. Now I'm the only one who hasn't seen them."

  Lindy rounded the third corner, continuing to drum her nails. The final wall, instead of the soft dry tap that the other walls had produced, gave an obvious echo. Her hand instinctively went to her chest, as if she were trying to steady herself. "It's not supposed to be hollow," she breathed. My best friend, who appeared younger than usual without her hair and make-up done, inhaled sharply and bit her lip.

  "Do you think there's something behind it?" Hannah said, her skin growing slightly pale.

  "I bet that's where they moved the robes," I predicted.

  "You think the robes are the only thing there?" Lindy asked me.

  "I don't know," I shook my head.

  "More knives?" Hannah asked. Neither of us had an answer for her.

  We inspected the entire wall for a knob, a latch, a hook, anything that might reveal the way in. I threw myself into searching so thoroughly that I didn't have to think about what would happen if we progressed deeper in to the house's hidden spaces, or what would happen if a crazed group of active members discovered us snooping into their secrets.

  After minutes of sweaty silence, we finally decided that the entire wall was solid, and ther
e was no way through.

  So, we sat down, legs kicked out, backs resting against the wall. Hannah positioned the knife squarely in front of us, just as we'd found it.

  "Damn, that's too bad," she said a bit louder than she needed to. "I so wanted to see where the robes went."

  "Their secrets are deep," Lindy noted.

  "So deep they use knives," I added, staring the black handle and blade, covered in the same black wax. Impulsively, I leaned over and plucked it off of the carpet.

  My friends watched me silently while I examined the knife, holding it like I was going to slice veggies and turning it around so the handle rested comfortable in my palm with the blade lying over my fingers. It was cool to the touch, and lighter than it looked, which made me guess that it wasn't the highest quality. Not that we had a ton of knives floating around the winery, but isn't it common knowledge that the heavier something is, the more expensive it is, especially textbooks and tools? And this knife was not heavy. For a brief second I thought I smelled black licorice, before concluding that the wax was candy-scented.

  "It's just a knife," I said.

  "We can see that," Lindy said, at the same time Hannah blurted, "No shit."

  "No, I mean, it's just a knife. There's no insignia or carving on it or anything. It's not super old. It doesn't match the robes. It's as light as a toy."

  "Good point," Lindy said. "To go with the robes, it should be, like, a sword with a crest and a bunch of jewels glued to the handle."

  "And something inscribed in Greek," I said.

  "Do you think it's a prop?" Lindy ventured.

  "A prop?" I raised my eyebrows at her.

  "Yeah, like it’s fake? Maybe they're messing with us?"

  "No way," I said. "Those robes were old and heavy and dusty and they'd been around forever."

  She tilted her head thoughtfully, "I mean, they tricked us once on the first night though, right? We thought we were going to get hazed. Some of this..." she waved her hand around the small closet, "could be misdirection. Like, maybe they'll bring us down here for something before initiation and try to scare us again."

  “I’m not sure,” I said, still skeptical.

  "A knife? The wax? Black candle wax? I mean, come on. How cheesy."