“I … I solved the riddle,” I blurt out.
“What?”
“Numbers 35:17. I figured it out.”
“You did?” I have her undivided attention now. “What’s it mean?”
“I googled it this afternoon and—”
“There you are!” Kollin’s voice calls from the end of the hall.
Laney’s back is to Kollin, but it’s obvious she recognizes his voice. She scrunches her face with annoyance. I know she’s disappointed about not being able to talk about the Sevens and it has nothing to do with me, but it gives me a little thrill. We share a private connection that Kollin will never be part of.
She mouths Later and walks off to join him.
I watch as he throws an arm around her shoulder, glaring back at me. He whispers something in her ear.
Her response slices through me: “We bumped into each other, that’s all. Give me a little credit. It’s Talan.”
I get why she said it. And the thing is, I’ve said the same kind of thing about a few girls myself. But her words … they cut me like a razor.
Twenty-one
I’m waiting for Laney at the island in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal, when Marcus strolls in with his tie in his hand and a grin on his face.
“Dude,” he says. “Where were you? You and Taylor left so early, you missed the excitement. Or were you two busy making your own excitement?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
“Uh, yeah,” I mumble. “We just wanted to get out of there after a while. What’d I miss?”
“The police showed up.”
“Boyle found the vodka Vanessa smuggled from her home visit?”
“No. Listen to this.” He pulls up a chair next to me and I sigh inside. Marcus is my best friend, but he can stretch a simple story into a two-hour documentary. “Someone dug up a grave in the Rucker Road cemetery. Security called the police, and they came to find Boyle.”
“What?” Suddenly I remember the skull that’s sitting in my backpack. “Do they know who did it?”
“They think it was a student, or a group of students. Shannon went outside to get some fresh air and overheard the whole thing. One of the cops told Boyle that remains were stolen!”
I’m sweating, and I don’t know why. I can see the spoon shake in my hand. So does Marcus, apparently.
“I know, right? It’s sick,” he says.
“Why do they think it was a student? That end of campus has no fence. A townie could have done it.”
“Yeah, here’s the creepiest part. Someone spray-painted the side of the mausoleum. They wrote the Sevens are back in red letters.”
My stomach feels like Marcus kicked it with his cleats. “What?”
“I know. Freaky, huh?” He hops up and shoves his chair in. “Gotta go. I’m gonna see if Jake heard.”
My hands are numb. Actually, my whole body is numb. I stand up and shake my arms out, pacing back in forth in front of the sink. None of this makes sense. If the Sevens wanted to remain a secret, why would they do that? It had to be Kane and the Pillars. They just wanted it to look like the Sevens.
Where the hell is Laney?
I dump my cereal in the sink and take off for my room. I lock the door and dig through my backpack, lifting out the skull fragments. I’ve got to ditch them somewhere fast.
I spot the floor vent by my bed, lift it out, and drop the bones inside, sliding the cover back in place. Then, back to the kitchen to wash my hands and wait.
Damn it, Shanahan. Where are you? Please be okay.
I’m standing at the sink scrubbing my hands for the hundredth time when Laney finally strolls in, humming.
“Best. Dance. Ever,” she says.
I bend back to make sure we’re alone and say, “It’s one in the morning. Did you forget we have a curfew?”
She checks the clock. “It’s not even 12:30. And I got an extension because Student Council had to stay late.”
“An extended curfew, huh? Oh yeah, that’s fair.”
Laney slides out of her pumps and tosses them by the door. “What do you mean, fair?” She bends her leg up and rubs one of her heels. “I was cleaning up. What do you care, anyhow?”
“I don’t.” I check the hall to make sure we’re alone. “I just figured you’d want to talk about the grave robbing. I’m sort of surprised you couldn’t pull yourself away from Kollin for five minutes so we could talk about the Sevens.” I slump back against the counter. “Are you committed to this or not, Shanahan?”
“Pull myself away? I did go looking for you, but you left early. With Taylor. What was I supposed to do? Scour the bushes and alleys? Follow your bread-crumb trail of discarded clothes to track down whatever closet you two were hooking up in?”
“I left early,” I snap, “to come home. I told Taylor I was feeling sick. I assumed you’d come home early too, so we could finish our conversation about the clue. It’s called sacrifice. It’s one of the seven virtues, if you remember.”
“Well, if you’d told me that’s what you were doing, maybe I would have come home. It’s called communication, if you remember … Wait a minute.” Her head shakes. “What did you say before? Did you say grave robbing?”
“You didn’t hear about it?”
“Hear what?”
“Someone dug up a grave in the old cemetery and stole ‘remains.’ Then they spray-painted the Sevens are back on the side of the mausoleum.”
She pauses to take it all in, sliding into a chair. “The Sevens wouldn’t do that.” Her eyes widen. “But the Pillars would. That’s where they got the skull they threatened you with. They must be trying to frame the Sevens … Or you.”
“No duh.”
“What if they’re trying to set you up? You’re already on thin ice with Headmaster Boyle. Maybe you should drop out of the Sevens before you get expelled.”
“I’m not quitting. We agreed we’re a team. Until the end.”
“Then we’ve got to solve these clues faster. We have to figure out how to help the Sevens before something worse happens to you.” She hops up and moves a foot in front of me. “What were you trying to tell me earlier?”
“Laney, I figured it out. Numbers 35:17 is a Bible verse. It says that if a person strikes someone with a stone and kills them, they’re a murderer. I combined it with the half clue Mary always wore a helmet and figured out what Mr. Singer was trying to say.”
“What?”
“Think about it. Mary supposedly died from a head injury during a horse-riding accident. That painting showed all those awards to remind us she was an expert rider. An expert rider who also wore a helmet all the time. My guess is her body was found without it, and Singer had reasons to suspect her injury wasn’t an accident. I think Singer was saying that his wife was murdered. If, like the last poem said, we ‘memorize all we learn in this game,’ I’m guessing the murderer was someone on the Singer Board of Directors.”
“Wow.” She lifts her eyes to mine. “Talan. Wow!” She tackles me in a hug like I just made the game-winning play. When she pulls back, our eyes lock.
Her hands slide to the top of my shoulders. Her excited smile slowly relaxes into a strange grin and her gaze travels down to my mouth.
My head is swimming from the closeness of her.
There’s a look in her eyes. I know this look, I think. Laney leans closer, slowly, then closer. I definitely know this move. Instantly, she freezes.
Her eyes widen and she leans to the right to look behind me. Not a second later, Mom Shanahan appears at my side.
She’s staring at Laney’s hands on both sides of my neck.
Laney looks from her mother to her hands and back to me. She pats my chest awkwardly. “Th-that’s great that you made up with Taylor. I’m happy that everything’s better with you two.” Her arms drop and she sidesteps me. “Hey, Mom.”
Mom’s face is starched with suspicion.
“Well, it’s been a long day and I’m exhausted.” Laney kisses her mother on the chee
k. “See you guys tomorrow.”
Laney and I duck out opposite doors, leaving her mom standing there with her mouth open like a hungry bird.
Twenty-two
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling and dissecting the almost-kiss. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve hooked up with a hundred girls at this school and I’m worked up over one almost-kiss? I roll over, punching the pillow into a different position.
I’ve got to be losing it. I’m crushing on Delaney Shanahan? The Proud Prude? The master at annoying me?
I toss and turn all night. By 6:00 a.m., I quit trying to sleep. Might as well not waste all this thinking on a girl. I haul a heaping bowl of cereal to the computer room and start researching the murder of Mary Singer. The articles all say that Mary’s body was found without a helmet, although no one seemed to make a big deal out of it. I swallow my last Froot Loop and check my email before logging off. My pulse accelerates when a message pops up:
To: [email protected]
From: Number 7
The next clue is around
where the last one was found.
Be wise. Utilize
all these lessons you learn,
for columns and riddles are there to discern.
Just be sure to do right
When it is your turn.
I’ve got bad news and GOOD NEWS
for your next clue.
Your founder was wise … indeed.
Are you?
Laney is still sleeping, but I’m too excited to wait for her. I jot a note on my napkin and slide it under her door:
Check email. Meet you there.
I bundle into my coat and bury my head deep inside my hood, blowing warm breath on my hands as I cross campus. The sky is dark and overcast. Naked trees tremble in the wind, while campus is barer than their branches.
When I get to Founders Hall, I head straight into the rotunda. A sleepy-looking custodian eyes me as he empties a garbage can, but no one else is stupid enough to be up this early on a Sunday. I check my watch like I’m meeting someone and mosey around the perimeter until I end up at the photograph of the Board of Directors.
Finally, the custodian pushes his cart through the door, and it slams behind him. I pull out my printout of the email and review the first part:
The next clue is around
where the last one was found.
I’m standing between the painting of Mary Singer and the photo of the Singer Board of Directors. Okay, Number Seven, or whatever your name is, I’m back where the last clue was found. Is there something “around” this picture you want me to see?
My eyes circle the frames and the wall around the pictures, but nothing stands out. After a couple minutes, I give up and skip down to the next section of the email:
Be wise. Utilize
all these lessons you learn,
for columns and riddles are there to discern.
Just be sure to do right
when it is your turn.
Okay. Think, Talan. The first part is easy—we need to use what we’ve learned so far from all these tests. But what does be sure to do right when it is my turn mean?
So what have we learned so far from these tests? My memory rewinds through our challenges—the messages hidden in the pictures … the half-clue poem that appeared when the letters were blacked out … the pediment proverb … the secret in the dedication plaque … all the way back to the first left-right-left poem that led us through the Singer underground.
The instant my brain makes the connection, energy buzzes through my body. I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet, looking at the doorway a few feet down from where I stand.
Be sure to do right, when it is your turn. Like that very first poem, this one is also a play on words; it’s directing me to go right at that turn.
I turn right down the hallway and skim over the last section of the poem.
I’ve got bad news and GOOD NEWS
for your next clue.
Your founder was wise … indeed.
Are you?
Tucking the paper in my coat pocket, I scan the walls, floors and ceilings of the hallway, examining everything from the outlets to the fire extinguisher.
And finally … there it is—a framed newspaper article on the construction of Founders Hall. The paper is yellowed with age, but the title is clear as a billboard: GOOD NEWS FOR SINGER ENTERPRISES MEANS GOOD NEWS FOR SINGER STUDENTS.
I’ve got bad news and GOOD NEWS was my next clue. I guess I just found the good news.
I engross myself in the article, reading every letter and word, leaning forward until my nose almost touches the glass.
“Boo!” My heart detonates at the voice in my ear. I swing around, fist clenched and jaw set.
Delaney jumps back, her hands in the air. “I’m unarmed. Relax.” She laughs and steps around me. “So what’s up, Watson?”
My heart thunders under my sweatshirt. I cross my arms. “Watson? Please. While you were sleeping in with your stuffed dolphin, I was already up researching Mary Singer’s obituary and solving the next riddle.” I repeat myself from last
night. “It’s called sacrifice. It’s one of the seven virtues, if you remember.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Laney rubs her hands together. “So I got the email. What’d you figure out?”
I peek out the end of the hallway, turn, and smile at her.
“I figured out that ‘do right when it’s my turn’ meant I was supposed to turn right into this corridor. And the clue about ‘bad news and good news’ has something to do with this.” I point to the news article on the wall behind me. “I’m not sure about the ‘bad news’ part, but this pretty much nails the ‘good news.’”
Laney reads the title over twice and a grin swells across her face. “Nice work.”
“You mean ‘Nice work, Sherlock,’ don’t you?”
She rolls her eyes. “You haven’t solved this one yet. You said yourself that you still need to figure out what the bad news is.”
While she pouts, I lean in close to the glass and skim the article once more, running my finger under the rows of writing as I read them. And there it is.
“Found it,” I say. “Better luck next time, Watson.”
Laney hip-checks me out of the way and studies the picture. “Where? What is it?”
“Laney, ‘check the column along with the row.’ Just like the earlier clue.”
GOOD NEWS FOR SINGER ENTERPRISES MEANS GOOD NEWS
FOR SINGER STUDENTS
When William and Mary Singer decided to
help underprivileged and at-risk children
attain an excellent education in a secure setting,
they never imagined the joy they’d receive back.
During an interview, Mr. Singer said, “Mary and I
overwhelmingly felt that helping these fine
young men and women would ultimately be
our greatest achievement in life. What we didn’t
understand is how much we’d grow to love them.”
During the past decade, Singer School has grown to
over five times the original enrollment. “My late
wife would be amazed at all we’ve accomplished—
her dream was to provide a nurturing and safe
environment for as many children as possible. This
new phase of construction allows us to do just that.”
Years ago, Singer School struggled to house just
over 400 students. An increase in funding is being
used to construct new homes and classrooms,
renovate old buildings, and hire additional staff.
Funding for these projects was generated due to the
amazing success of Singer Enterprises worldwide.
Mr. Singer credits this exceptional growth to savvy
investments and sound managerial strategies
laid out by the Singer Board of
Directors. “Next
year promises to be even better,” Singer stated.
Despite his remarkable success, Singer warns that
exceptional earnings bring their own share of
problems. He said, “There is good and evil in
everything. The important thing is to consider the
needs of everyone involved and make careful
decisions that provide for the best long-term
scenario.”
One building project in particular has been
near and dear to William Singer’s heart. Just
yesterday, crews started phase two of construction
on Founders Hall and Auditorium, which will
ultimately include a museum of school history,
rotunda, and auditorium.
Expected completion of Founders Hall is fall of
next year. “My goal is for this project to provide an
everlasting tribute in memory of Mary Singer,
my late wife. She loved this school and the children
in it. I believe Founders Hall will become an
essential part of our school community, providing a
sense of pride, identity, purpose, and spirit.”
Laney runs her finger down the first letter in each row and sounds out the message. “What do you do when your family depends on your enemies?”
Her mouth falls open and she shuffles back a step. One hand rises to her parted lips as the other spreads like a fan across her breastbone. “Oh my God.”
I stare at the words in amazement and think back to the hidden tunnel. “Remember the message the Sevens left on the elevator door? A prudent question is one half of wisdom or something? Do you think this is the prudent question they were referring to?”
She glances at me and flashes me a grin. “What I think is that you have a wicked good memory.”
The back of my neck grows warm, and it spreads to my ears and cheeks.
I turn back to the article. “But this news story contradicts what we’ve been told about the Board being murderers and liars,” I say. “Singer is quoted saying good things—that they made smart decisions that paid for the growth of the campus and student body, two things that were important to him and his wife.”
Secret of the Sevens Page 12