I’m getting used to the smell down here, but it still makes me woozy. Focus. One more left and a right. But then what?
Laney’s wound up and won’t stop talking. “See, I told you the Sevens were real! They aren’t the bad guys. They never were. There’s more to them than that scandal, and we’ll figure it out.”
I stop to catch my breath. “Kane is up to something, I’ll give you that. He wants to sell the school. I don’t think we can assume anything else. Aren’t you kind of making a stretch about the Sevens? Why do you want to believe so badly that the Sevens were innocent? Because the Pillars rejected you and the Sevens want us?”
She flinches at my words. “Are you kidding me? The Pillars are disgusting. I’m glad they didn’t choose me. They’re up to something all right. And they’re going down.”
As I look at her standing there with her hands on her hips, her messed-up hair falling over intense brown eyes, I suddenly realize that she’s not the same Delaney. “What’s gotten into you, Shanahan?”
She avoids my stare and brushes past me so I have to race to keep up. “Nothing. I just hate the thought of these Pillars getting all those perks and awards they don’t deserve. There’s a waiting list a mile long for kids who need to get into Singer, and Kane is wasting tuition money on a car for Kayla Kaminski? The Pillars are supposed to be model students looking out for the school, not selling out to Stephen Kane. The Sevens must want to save our school. That’s the group I want to be in.”
“I don’t know. I’m thinking the Pillars’ secret club looks a hell of a lot funner than ours.”
Her hand flies up to smack me, and I duck. “I’m kidding!”
Our flashlights are jumping like two headlights rolling down a bumpy road. When we reach the last long corridor, there’s a light at the far end. We get closer, and I can tell the elevator is waiting for us with its back panel slid open. I want to cry with relief.
Inside, Laney stabs the button for the first floor and the back wall slithers into place again, making the elevator look like every other I’ve ever been in.
Except for the black envelope taped to the center of the rear wall.
My hand is still shaking when I pull it down. The note inside reads:
“A prudent question is one-half of wisdom.”-Francis Bacon
Eleven
On Saturday morning, I wake up to the smell of burnt toast wafting down the hallway. Chris and Mike must be cooking again. They both want to be star chefs someday, but it’s taken them two years to master the hot dog. They’re sophomores, twin brothers from Michigan. Their mom is bipolar and their dad is in jail. Where will they go if Singer closes?
I drag my butt into the kitchen and Chris sings, a little too brightly, his typical, “Taaaaaa-lan.”
I wrinkle my nose. “What’d you scorch today?”
“First batch, yes. But check these out.” Chris pulls a tray of gooey, ad-perfect cinnamon buns out of the oven and waves the pan in front of my face. “If at first you don’t succeed—”
Mike and I join in, “Try, try again.”
It’s one of the sayings Singer drills into your head from childhood.
“Dorky,” Chris says, “but true.”
I reach for the tray and he slaps my hand. “Manners, boy.” He scoops me out a piece and watches me devour it.
“Mmmm. Ecstasy,” I moan. He beams like I’m Gordon Ramsey. I finish and wipe my fingers on my T-shirt. “That was almost worth getting up for.”
“We know.” They high five each other.
Marcus, Jake, and Joshua stagger into the kitchen. “Hey, where were you last night?” Marcus asks me. “Did you forget about our workout?”
“Oh man, I’m sorry. I was … at the library.”
“No. Really.” He laughs. “Where were you?”
“The library. Really.”
Jake grabs a gallon of milk from the refrigerator and starts guzzling.
“The library? You?” Marcus says. “Why? Is the new Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition in? No, can’t be. It’s fall.”
“Ha ha. I was studying.”
Jake spits his mouthful across the counter. He starts wiping it up with his sleeve and peers at me. “Okay, spill. Where were you?”
“You were hooking up with someone, weren’t you?” Marcus says. “It has to be bad, or you’d tell us. It was Large Marge, wasn’t it?”
“No—”
“I bet it was Professor Gaytan,” Joshua says. “She’s a PILF.”
“Shut up, losers.” I grab a glass and fill it with water from the sink. “Hey, do you guys know if Laney’s up yet?”
Marcus takes the milk jug from Jake. “She’s in the family room watching TV.” He downs the rest of it and puts the empty container back in the fridge, adding, “Le Douche just came over.” He wipes his mouth on his shirt and wiggles his eyebrows at Jake and me. “Maybe they need a chaperone?”
Jake slams the refrigerator door. “Definitely.”
The two take off for the family room and I’m right behind them. Picking on LeBeau is sort of a hobby for us.
Jake immediately dives onto the couch between Kollin and Delaney. He shimmies them apart and wraps his arms around their shoulders. “Can I cuddle too?”
Marcus nabs the remote from the armrest before Laney can grab it away. “Give it back!” she snaps.
He tosses it to me, and I switch the channels. The local cable station is replaying one of our football games from last season. “Now this is worth watching,” I tell them. “This was a great game, and you two blew it off to watch a stupid movie. I had twelve tackles.”
“We didn’t blow it off. We left during the second half.” Kollin sneers. “It was too embarrassing to watch once you were down by thirty.”
If I clench my teeth any harder, they’ll crack. “What’s embarrassing is that shirt.” My eyes wander over Kollin’s chest. “Did Lady Gaga pick that out for you?”
“Ohhhh, nice one,” Jake says.
Kollin looks me up and down. “I’m supposed to take fashion advice from you? The only thing missing from your wardrobe is an empty moonshine bottle.”
Laney jumps up and stands between us. “Can you two stop fighting for once and try to—”
I talk over her. “If you’re such an expert on looking good, LeBeau, how come I’m the one who’s hooked up with every hot girl at this school?”
Kollin’s nostrils flare, but he keeps his voice steady. “Because I don’t want to hook up with every hot girl.”
“Because you can’t get a hot girl.”
“Because I have the one I want, idiot.”
Dang. He’s got me there. I start to say something, but Kollin lunges for the remote in my hand. I twist away in time but lose my balance and stumble backward. My feet fly forward and knock Kollin down on top of me. Before I know it, we’re rolling on the floor, wrestling and punching each other.
Delaney wedges herself between us, trying to push us apart. “Knock it off!”
Of course, we don’t. We roll from side to side, arms flailing and testosterone steaming from our pores. “Stop it!” she screams. “You’re gonna hurt each other.” She pushes with all her might to separate us, but we outweigh her by two hundred pounds.
She shouts up at Marcus and Jake, “Help me before they get in trouble!”
I get a good blow in before Laney lodges herself between us again. Jake and Marcus only intervene when Kollin’s stray punch skims Delaney’s cheek.
A second later, a voice booms, “What’s going on in here?” Dad Shanahan charges in from the doorway. “Well?” He looks at each of us. When none of us answer, he goes to the one person he knows will always tell the truth. “Delaney, what’s this about?”
She doesn’t say anything.
“Nothing,” I answer, out of breath. “We were goofing around and I fell into the table.” I reach down and pick up the remote and a magazine that fell to the floor.
Laney snatches the remote from my hand and flips the chann
el back to her movie. “Kollin and I were watching TV, that’s all. They came in to bug us. They were about to leave. Right, Talan?”
I look from Laney to Kollin to Dad Shanahan. “Right.”
“Well, go then,” Dad says. “And keep the ruckus down. I have a pile of paperwork and I can’t keep running in here to babysit you kids.”
“C’mon, guys.” Marcus and Jake follow me toward the door. As I pass Kollin, he collapses on the couch, his arms folded across his chest.
I’m playing basketball out front later with Mike when I hear Laney and Kollin yelling from the back of the house. He chases her through the side yard and they turn the corner, laughing and wheezing. She stops in her tracks when she sees Mike and me shooting hoops in the driveway.
“Hey, Lane. Hey, Kollin,” Mike says. He attempts a failed layup, which he rebounds under the net.
“Hi, Mike,” they say in sync. They stare at me with poison eyes, but say nothing.
I grab the ball from Mike’s hands and pivot around him. It’s so obvious we’re ignoring each other that it’s awkward. Mike’s eyes bounce between Laney and me.
Kollin glides his hand down to Laney’s waist. “Well, I’m gonna go.”
Laney turns to him. “Okay.”
He kisses her forehead and glares at me over her shoulder. Then he ambles off, but stops about ten feet away and glances back. “Hey, Lane?”
“Yeah?”
He smirks at me before telling Laney, “You’re hot.”
Laney smiles wide until she turns around and catches me rolling my eyes. When my next shot bounces off the rim and lands in the grass next to her, she kicks the ball so hard it ends up in the retention pond across the street. She grins and walks inside.
I rescue the ball and hand it to Mike. “Play without me for a while. I need to talk to Laney.”
She’s eating ice cream alone in the kitchen when I come in. I’m not about to apologize when her lame boyfriend started the whole fight, but I’ll take the high road. We’re in this Sevens thing together and there’s no time for this now.
I pour a bowl of Cocoa Puffs and pull out the chair next to her. “So what’s our next move, you know, with the … situation. Have you heard anything?”
She shakes her head, avoiding my eyes.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about it.” I shovel a mouthful and swallow it down. “Like, for one thing, if someone really is resurrecting the Sevens, why are we the only ones invited? Shouldn’t there be seven of us?”
She doesn’t answer.
“And why would they chose me? I mean, you’re a brainiac, but why would they want me?”
She crumples her napkin, smushes it into the bowl with her unfinished ice cream, and scoots her chair back.
“I mean, it’s not like I—”
Before I finish, Laney leans over and interrupts me. “You’re right, Talan.” She circles around me to the sink. “I have no idea why anyone in their right mind would want you.”
She tosses her bowl and spoon into the dishwasher while I pick my jaw up from the floor. It’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard her say, and she walks out without a second glance.
Suddenly, I’m not so hungry. I dump my cereal in the sink and wonder why it feels like I’m wearing a concrete shirt. What do I care what the Proud Prude thinks? Only … I do. There’s a soreness in my throat and lungs that I can’t shake.
“Talan? You okay?” Mike’s voice is right next to me, but Laney’s is still louder in my head. “Talan?”
“Huh?” I wipe my suddenly sweaty hands on my jeans. “Sorry. I was spacing out.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m just tired. I think I’ll lie down.”
I show up to dinner dreading Laney’s presence.
“Pass the meatloaf,” she grumbles to me as I sit down.
I ignore her and start to eat.
“Are you deaf? I asked you to pass me the—”
As she talks, I turn my back on her and ask Marcus, “Hey, do you want to hang with Shannon and Taylor later?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” Laney snaps. “Whatever.”
She reaches around me for the meatloaf at the same time I turn back. My arm bumps the plate, and hot gravy dumps all over my sleeve.
“Ow, that burns!” I jump up, whipping my fork at the table. When it lands, a mound of mashed potatoes splatters all over her. “Dang it, Laney.” I try to wipe the gravy off my sleeve with a napkin, but it only makes it worse. “Great. I was going to wear this tonight.”
She flicks a glob of potatoes off her face and gives me a look that could sear through me. “Me? What did I do? You bumped into me. And then you pummeled me with potatoes.” She shoves me hard in the arm. “If you’d handed it to me when I asked … ”
Dad Shanahan slams his fist down and we all jump. “What is going on with you two?” he roars.
Laney and I glare at each other and wipe food off ourselves.
“You both knock it off this instant,” Mom orders. “If you can’t eat civilly, you don’t belong at our table.”
Heat burns my cheeks. “I’m not good enough to belong anywhere, according to your daughter.”
Laney gets up in my face, gritting her teeth like a snarling
bulldog. “What are you talking about? You’re the one that thinks you’re so great. Big party guy—Mister Player. Wow, I’m so impressed by your awesome resume of banging girls and failing classes.”
The room gets so quiet, I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. My brain scrambles for words to defend myself, but there aren’t any. Maybe because she’s right.
Mom’s voice hits that octave where you better duck or run. “Delaney Shanahan! That’s enough! Get to your room. Now!”
“Fine!” Laney stands up and slams her chair into the table. “I lost my appetite the second he sat down anyhow.”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, young lady, but you’re now grounded for the evening.”
She bolts out the door. “Good! At least I won’t have to see him or his big ego!”
I don’t have to look up to know everyone is staring at me. I stab at my meatloaf, wishing it was Laney. That’s not true. What I wish is that she’d explain why she’s treating me like crap. We were getting along so good with all this Sevens stuff. Not sure why that would change now. She’s used to Kollin and me fighting. I don’t know why this time is anything different.
Why should I care what she thinks anyway? It’s not like I want a relationship with Laney, or with any girl. And I never said I was valedictorian material. She’s the one who always said I was smart. She said I used my learning disorder as an excuse to play dumb, but I wasn’t.
Well, I guess she knows better now.
Twelve
For the next week, Laney and I do our best to ignore each other. But one Sunday a month, the Shanahans plan an off-campus outing for our “family.” Waterparks, mini-golf, that kind of thing. Today, Laney’s mom is taking her to look for a dress for the Homecoming dance, so her dad got tickets for the rest of us to catch a baseball game.
We pile into the van around noon to head to the city. As usual, I’m the last one in. When I sit next to Laney in my regular seat, she gets up and moves to the bench behind me.
“What’s your problem anyway?” I ask her. “Got your period or something?” She totally hates when I say stuff like that. I face forward and smile even more when I feel her kick the back of my seat.
Hanging with my brothers at the game is a riot, as usual. Even though the Cubs get slaughtered, as usual. My gut twists when I realize that this is my last year for this. It’ll be their last year, too, if Singer closes.
After the game, we wait for Mom and Laney outside Macy’s. As Laney climbs into the van, her smile dissolves. She ignores me the whole ride home.
Her loss. It’s late and I have more important stuff to think about. I have a hundred pages to read in To Kill a Mockingbird, which means a good twenty minutes online, skimming over the Spar
kNotes.
In my room, I flick the lights on and throw my hoodie on my desk, sending a large black envelope flying to the floor. Oh shit.
The Sevens were here.
There’s a letter inside, along with something plasticy. It’s a report cover—the kind you turn your term papers in or use for a fancy presentation. The clear surface is marked with black dots and dashes. I set it on my bed and read the note:
Second Test-Service:
“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself
in the service of others.”-Mahatma Gandhi
This challenge comes in several parts,
A puzzle in pieces for you,
Each designed to teach as it tests.
The first should be simple to do:
A message in code
Can’t be decoded
If you only have half a clue.
It sounds like we’re supposed to track down the rest of the clue. My first reaction is to get Laney, but then I remember. Laney doesn’t think I’m smart enough to be chosen by the Sevens? Well, screw that. I’ll figure it out before she does.
I shove both pieces into my backpack and carry it to the computer room.
The clear sheet covered with dots and dashes … is that Morse code? I google Morse code and try to match the shapes with letters, but it doesn’t spell anything. In fact, on closer inspection, the marks on the sheet aren’t just dashes and dots. They’re sloppy squares and scribbles drawn in permanent marker. And now I really don’t have any idea what to do.
As I’m thinking about Laney, almost magically she strolls in. She’s already changed into her pajamas, her hair pulled back in a ponytail and her face scrubbed clean. She smells like soap and toothpaste.
She hesitates when she sees me, then parks herself at the computer farthest from mine. I decide to be the bigger person. “So,” I ask, “did you get the—”
As I’m talking, Juan walks in and plunks his history book on the desk across from us. I slide the sheet into my backpack.
“Huh?” he says.
“I was talking to Laney.” I look sidelong at her and carefully ask, “Did you get the … second test?”
Secret of the Sevens Page 7