“So? Anyone can volunteer.”
Her face pinches. “Oh? Then why don’t you? At least my time is spent helping other kids. You get more attention for running around in a red football jersey a few hours every weekend. The jocks get plenty of perks here, and you know it.”
“Geez, okay already.” I sigh. “I’m sorry I said anything. I’m just crabby I had to waste one of the last days of summer stuck inside with Headmaster Boyle.”
“Yeah, well, you’re lucky he didn’t suspend you.”
“He almost did. Mr. Kane wanted him to, but all Boyle could do was take privileges and give me detention. Oh, and Professor Solomon convinced him to put me in his Ethics and Virtues class, too.”
“Oh Shitsu,” she says, gnawing the corner of her bottom lip.
“What?”
“Well, I have some good news and some bad news.” Laney scratches her forehead. “Which do you want first?”
The expression on her face guarantees my day is about to get worse. “The good, I guess.”
“Kollin and I are signed up for that class, so we’ll have it together.”
“Having a class with Kollin is the good news? I can hardly wait to hear the bad news.”
“All the Pillars will be in there too. It’s part of the requirements when you apply.”
“Damn!” I pound my fist into her pillow. “I should have known Headmaster Boyle would burn me. His eyes practically lit up when Solomon suggested it. I swear the guy hates my guts. He always has.”
“Well, I’m glad you’ll be there. I can use an ally. It’s gonna suck listening to Cameron Moore and the Pillars bragging about all the cool stuff they’re getting.”
I squeeze a stuffed dolphin sitting on her bed, gripping it like a football. “What the heck happened today, anyhow?” I pull my arm back, aiming for an imaginary receiver. “These Pillars aren’t anything like the ones they usually choose.”
Before I can nail the door with Flipper, Laney snatches the thing from my hand and sets it carefully on her shelf. “That’s because Mr. Rathbone was always the Chairman of the Board. My dad said he always relied on the teachers’ suggestions when he selected the Pillars. But Stephen Kane took over when Rathbone died, and he insisted on choosing the Pillars himself.”
I scoot back, snuggling into the mound of pillows lined neatly against her headboard. “It doesn’t make sense. We get a lecture from this Kane guy on how excellent Pillars are, and then he chooses the biggest group of losers at our school. Who is this Kane idiot, anyhow?”
Laney stands up and wanders slowly toward her desk. “Mom said Stephen Kane was a hero when he went here. He was the boy who discovered the fire that killed William Singer and those students. Kane tried to rescue them, but it was too late. The Board was so impressed that they rewarded him by putting him in charge of reinventing Mr. Singer’s secret society. He helped come up with the Pillars as the replacement. That’s why he was the first Pillar.”
“Reinvent the secret society? Why would they want to do that?” I shake my head. “After the murder, you’d think they’d want to forget it ever existed.”
Laney slides into her desk chair. “They had to, for legal reasons. Mr. Singer’s will left all of his assets, including Singer Enterprises, in a trust to Singer School. That way, the school could go on even after he was gone. The board of directors was to continue running the business, but the will stated that there was a group of students at the school who had the authority to veto any board decisions they felt would hurt the school. The will referred to them as the Society of Seven. The Sevens were set up to protect the school, but five died in the fire and the other two never came forward.”
“Because they’d get arrested for murder.”
“That’s the theory. Anyhow, the Board needed to create something right away that filled that description in the will, so they worked with Kane to come up with the Pillars. To avoid any more trouble, they decided there’d be six seniors selected every year, with the Chairman of the Board acting as the seventh member and advisor so that they wouldn’t be secret anymore.”
“So why do you think Singer started it as a secret society? There had to be something gross or illegal going on.”
Laney doesn’t answer. She’s deep in thought, tapping her knuckles on the desktop.
“So how do you know all this, anyway?” I add. “About Singer’s will and all that?”
She swivels in her chair, turning her back to me. “I did some research once.”
“For a paper or something?”
Her head lifts toward a photo of her family on her bulletin board. “Something like that.” She’s quiet again.
When I hear her sniffling, I swing my legs over the side of her bed. “I know you wanted to be a Pillar, Lane, but it’ll be okay. I’m sure you’re already guaranteed a scholarship with all your A’s and compulsive community service.”
She straightens up quick and wipes her face with her palms. Her desk chair turns a few degrees in my direction.
“C’mon. Who needs Winchester House when you have us?” I lean back on my elbows. “Admit it, you’d totally miss us. Think about all our great times together. No more of Jake’s laundry-day headlocks, where he forces you to whiff his reeking socks? Or the way everyone farts and blames it on you? You don’t get that kind of attention just anywhere. Remember when Marcus and me stole your underwear from the dryer and wrapped them up for Headmaster Boyle as a birthday present?”
“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” she whimpers. But when she swivels the rest of the way to face me, there is a smile, if just a little one. “You know, I would have missed this place. I probably would have been here all the time anyhow.”
“Then why mope about it? You’re already gonna graduate with a pile of awards.”
“I never cared about that. That’s not why I wanted it.”
“Then why? So you could spend more time with Kollin?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She glances at her bulletin board and pulls her hair back. “I’m fine now. Really.”
Just then, the door swings open and Dad Shanahan’s head pops through. His wrinkled brow relaxes when he sees Laney and me on opposite sides of the room. “You feeling better, sweetie?”
Laney nods and Mr. Shanahan says, “Why don’t you come out and have some dinner, then? C’mon … make your mom and dad happy and eat something.”
When Laney stands up, I read something in her expression that catches me off guard.
Disgust.
Four
The Pillars are gathered in the front of the classroom when I walk in. Perched on the teacher’s desk, Cameron Moore glares as I trudge past him to the back of the room.
I plop down in an open desk next to Emily. “Hey.”
She looks up at me from her magazine and then back down to the quiz she’s filling out. “Hey.”
She must be pissed about our cemetery date. Whatever. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend anyhow.
Laney and Kollin stroll in a minute later. Laney frowns at the Pillars before glancing around the room. Her eyes skip from me to Emily and back to me again. She gives me a half-smile. I nod and slouch in my seat until a voice jolts me to attention.
“Mr. Moore!” Professor Solomon bellows from the doorway.
Cameron hops down as our teacher shuffles in.
Stooped at the waist, Solomon hobbles turtle-slow toward his desk. Wisps of fine white hair cling to his head like a spiderweb. Brown age spots speckle his face and hands. He leans on his cane, surveying Cameron Moore through wire-rimmed glasses that teeter on the tip of his nose.
This is my first course with Solomon, and that’s no accident. Senile Solomon is well-known for failing more kids than anyone at Singer. Your chance of getting an A in his class is the statistical equivalent of Haley’s comet flying over Wrigley Field at the exact moment the Cubs clinch the World Series. Not that it matters much to me, but they call him the GPA Killer.
Solomon’s sunken eyes
narrow on Cameron. The room is quieter than the inside of a casket until the old guy slams his cane on the desktop. “If you ever use my desk as your chair again, I’ll use your report card as an invitation to summer school. Are we clear?”
“Of course, sir.” Cameron nods manically. “I apologize.” He rushes for the first open chair.
Solomon’s eyes scan the dead-silent room.
“Excuse me.” Zack Hunter’s hand creeps up. “Sir?”
Solomon glares at him over the top of his glasses.
“As you’re probably aware, sir, this year the Pillars are supposed to meet every Monday in the Board Room in lieu of this class. We have our first meeting this afternoon, in five minutes. We’re eager to get going, if that’s okay.”
Laney’s eyes and mouth drop simultaneously, like they’re attached to the same anchor.
“I’m aware,” Solomon sniffs, then turns to the rest of us. “Apparently, Mr. Kane feels the Pillars can learn more from meeting with him than they would in my class.” His mouth tightens. “I’ve also been advised that the Pillars are to be excused for numerous field trips and quarterly board meetings.”
Zack high-fives Cameron, and Professor Solomon points his cane at them. “Just so there’s no misunderstanding, Pillars will be expected to make up everything they miss in class. For instance, you will be expected to read the first two chapters in your textbook tonight and write five pages summarizing the main ideas.” Solomon grumbles something under his breath and waves his hand at the door. “Pillars, you’re excused.”
The six students grab their backpacks and stroll out, leaving only five of us. Solomon slams the door and growls, “The rest of you, move to the front desks.”
I follow Emily and park myself in an open seat next to Jose Aguilar, an angry ex-gangbanger. I’ve always wanted to check out his tattoos, but then he glares at me and I end up inspecting my nails instead.
Solomon rests against the dry-erase board and waits for us to get settled. “This is a class on character and virtue,” he pronounces. The way he spits it out, you’d think it was a class on terror and intimidation.
Laney pulls out her textbook and flips to the first page.
“You may close that, Ms. Shanahan,” he says. “You won’t find today’s lecture in your texts. I’ve decided that if Stephen Kane can veer from the curriculum every Monday, then I can as well.”
Kollin lifts his hand.
“I know what you’re going to ask, Mr. LeBeau. And no. The non-Pillar students will have no homework tonight. Consider that a bonus assignment I gave the Pillars—for being such excellent students. Now, if we may begin.”
He points his cane at the Pillar banner hanging next to him. “Mr. Aguilar, what are the six attributes of excellence as defined by Singer’s new Chairman of the Board?”
Jose reads the list: “Leadership, Pride, Passion, Achievement, Strength, and Glory.”
Under my breath, I mumble, “Bullshit.”
Solomon’s head swivels 180 degrees. Just my luck; the guy’s entire body is rotting, but his ears are sharper than a satellite dish. He wobbles to his desk and tears a slip of paper off a pad. “Profanity is not allowed in my classroom.” He scribbles something on the form and hands it to me. “Apparently you haven’t learned your lesson, Mr. Michaels. Or perhaps you’re just eager for a little more of Principal Boyle’s attention?”
Crap. Afternoon detention.
The professor returns to the board. “Our new Chairman of the Board has an interesting interpretation of the purpose of this school,” he says. “Fortunately for us, our founder defined personal excellence differently. My dear friend William Singer devoted his life and wealth so that students could mold productive lives according to values that enrich the world. His motto for this school will always be virtus sola nobilitas—virtue alone is noble. From the ceiling in Founders Hall to the scroll above our gates, the seven virtues remain our beacon.”
He grabs a blue marker and scribbles six of them on the board:
1.Courage
2.Compassion
3.Justice
4.Faith
5.Sacrifice
6.Wisdom
“Now let’s consider Mr. Kane’s definition of success.” Solomon limps over to the banner. “Leadership is authority over another,” he mutters, “and pride is a high opinion of oneself. Passion is any strong emotion—love or hate or even sex or anger.”
He pauses to catch his breath. “Achievement indicates an accomplishment of personal goals, strength is an individual’s power in relation to someone else, and glory is recognition for personal achievements.”
Solomon points a shaky finger at Kollin. “Mr. LeBeau. Who would you say benefits most from these qualities?”
Kollin squirms ten different ways before guessing. “The person who possesses them?”
“Precisely. These qualities benefit one’s self.” Solomon shakes his ghoulish head. “One could argue that Hitler possessed all six of those qualities, and his legacy is anything but excellent.”
Our attention hones in on Solomon’s every twitch. Suddenly this is getting interesting. “Now consider our founder’s interpretation of personal excellence,” he continues. “Courage, compassion, justice, faith, sacrifice, and wisdom.” He peers down at Laney. “Ms. Shanahan. Can you tell me how the qualities on this list differ from the Pillar list?”
She looks from the banner to the board and squeaks out, “They serve others rather than oneself?”
Solomon roars, “Exactly!” and scribbles one last virtue on the list on the board:
7.Service
Then he pulls out his chair and eases himself into it, his eyes slowly panning each of our faces. There’s a fury in his voice that doesn’t fit his feeble body. “Virtue requires the sacrifice of self in service of others. That’s why it will always be more excellent than some”—he looks directly at me—“bullshit definition of success.”
I’m so stunned, I drop my pencil.
The old guy seems pretty pleased with himself. “The Singer School motto will always be virtus sola nobilitas—virtue alone is noble. No matter what our new chairman of the board says.”
Five
The great thing about Adderall is it totally helps me focus. The bad thing is, I’m not always focusing on the right thing. While my math teacher is introducing herself and the fascinating world of Senior Calculus, I’m still cracking up over Senile Solomon calling the Pillars bullshit.
Professor Anderson answers a knock on the door and steps outside. She returns a second later, waving a yellow pass. “Mr. Michaels, you’re wanted in the Hadley building.”
Great. What did I do this time? I scoop up my things and pluck the slip from her hand.
It reads: Talan Michaels. Appointment: 2:30. Room 07, Hadley Hall.
I cut across the quad toward the oldest building on campus. Why would they want to see me here? Except for the thing at assembly, I can’t think of anything I’ve done wrong recently. That they know of, anyhow.
I open the front door and flash my pass at the security guard. He reads the note over a couple times as I sign in. “Room 07? I don’t see a lot of passes for rooms in the basement.” He hands it back and points to a doorway. “Take that stairwell there.”
The muscles in my shoulders stiffen as I ramble down the rickety steps into a dark corridor. The air is humid and musty. There’s a single dim bulb hanging from the ceiling in the center of the long hallway.
Unnerved, I squint to read the faded numbers on the old wood doors. The darkness in the narrow hall is starting to trigger my claustrophobia. When my shoes squeak like a bad speaker, I twist around, thinking someone’s behind me. What am I freaking out about? There’s no one else here. I’m alone.
Alone.
In a strange building.
For a meeting I knew nothing about.
In an empty hallway … in a dimly lit basement … that no one ever uses.
The hairs on my arm stand up. My eye
s shift around, searching the walls for anything familiar.
“Hello?”
No answer.
All the classroom lights are off except for one at the very end of the hall. A strip of light glows from under the door. I drift toward it like an insect to a bug zapper.
The door to room 07 creaks as I open it and wander inside. The room is empty, except for a chalkboard on one wall with a message:
Yes, Talan. The letter is for you. And it’s real.
My breath catches in my throat. What letter? What’s going on? I look around the room and then peer out into the hallway, but there’s still no one around.
Scanning the room again, I spot a black velvet envelope with a red wax seal sitting on the ledge of the chalkboard. I go over and grab it, just as a cold sweat starts to collect under my shirt.
Inside is a card printed with fancy writing:
Master Talan Michaels,
You have been chosen for membership in the resurrected Society of Seven. Participation in The Society requires absolute loyalty, a lifelong oath of silence, and a commitment of sacrificial service to the true purposes of our brotherhood. In return, the secrets of The Society are bestowed upon the pledges, including access to fraternal wealth and wisdom. Upon final initiation into The Society, each member is assigned the Great Responsibility and awarded the Great Reward: the use of Society resources to fulfill your greatest desire.
Choose or refuse, you will have until midnight tonight to decide. If refusing, destroy this card and speak of it never, lest ye choose to invite misery upon yourself. Be warned: Do not take this vow lightly.
If accepting, return this invitation by way of the mausoleum of Mary Harper Singer, behind the chapel ruins in the cemetery off Rucker Road. Slide this card under the palm of the weeping angel that watches over our beloved matriarch.
Noblesse Oblige: “To whom much is given, much is expected.”
I shove the card back inside the envelope. “Funny,” I yell. “If you’re listening, you wasted a lot of time and energy trying to punk me.”
It’s completely quiet, except for the sound of my heart hammering in my ears. I jam the envelope in my pocket and dash into the hall, hoping to catch the prankster outside. The corridor is empty. As I walk down the hall, the darkness makes me jumpy. My steps get quicker until I’m jogging up the stairs two at a time. By the time I fling open the door at the top and reach the security guard, I’m soaked with sweat.
Secret of the Sevens Page 3