Secret of the Sevens

by Lynn Lindquist

  “They could be brilliant businessmen and still be liars and murderers,” Laney says. “I think that’s what he means when he says ‘his family depends on his enemies.’ He’s asking what was he supposed to do? Our school and the kids he considered his family depended on the very people he suspected of killing his wife.”

  “Wouldn’t he be so angry that he wouldn’t care? I mean, he thinks they killed his wife, who he obviously loved a lot. We’re talking about murder here.”

  “Unless he couldn’t prove it,” she says. “Or he wasn’t sure which of them was behind it. It’s not like he could fire an entire Board of Directors, especially one that’s that been so successful, based on a hunch or circumstantial evidence like his wife not wearing a helmet. I don’t know much about business, but I’d imagine that could ruin a company’s reputation and the value of its stock. Which basically means our school would be ruined too, since we’re completely funded by Singer Enterprises. I’m guessing Mr. Singer needed to be dang sure he could prove who murdered his wife before he acted on it.”

  “I can’t imagine having to play normal around the scumbags who murdered the woman I loved. But I guess his school, her school, was on the line. What a shitty position to be put in. But you’re right. If there was obvious evidence of foul play, the police would have gotten involved. Everyone always assumed Mary Singer died from a riding accident.”

  Laney’s eyes travel from the article to me. “So I wonder how Singer answered his prudent question then? What do you do when your family depends on your enemies to survive?”

  I smile down at her. “You form a secret society of students to protect them.”

  The hallway echoes with the sound of the door opening in the rotunda.

  Laney whispers, “I guess we’re done for now. I’ll go out the front door and you wait a few minutes and leave through the back.”

  I nod and we hightail it in opposite directions.

  The minute I step outside, a voice stops me cold. “You there. Michaels. Not so fast.”

  I’d know that annoying bark anywhere. I spin around and Headmaster Boyle glowers at me. The small boy standing next to him shrinks back a step.

  “What are you doing at Founders Hall this time of the morning?” Boyle asks.

  I flash him a bright smile to match my halo. “Research for a paper, sir.”

  “Homework? You? At this hour of the day? And I suppose you want to sell me the marshland on South Rucker Road, too?”

  No, but I wouldn’t mind drowning you in it. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

  “I mean, you’re probably looking for trouble. Fortunately for you, I’m about to change all that.” Boyle puts his hand on the shoulder of the boy cowering next to him. “This,” Boyle says, “is Jack Dominguez.”

  He’s a cute kid, a bit scruffy with huge eyes and a tight-lipped frown. He’s wearing oversized cowboy boots and his right hand clings to a Woody doll from that Toy Story movie.

  “Hey, Jack.”

  “You live in Canfield House, correct?” Boyle asks me. I nod and he says, “Jack is a new student moving into the Hampton House today. I need you to drop him off for me. I just got a call and his houseparents are handling a discipline emergency. I would do it myself, but I have a meeting in the Executive Building in five minutes.”

  It’s not that I don’t like kids. I just don’t know any. Don’t know what they like or how they think or even if we share the same vocabulary.

  “I can’t,” I tell Boyle. “I have to—”

  “No, Mr. Michaels,” he interrupts. “The only thing you have to do is what I tell you to do. Now take Jack straight to Hampton House. I’ll call and let them know to expect you in fifteen minutes. Don’t leave him until his houseparents dismiss you. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Boyle nudges Jack between the shoulder blades and he takes a couple tentative steps toward me.

  “Good luck, Jack,” he says before leaving the two of us alone, staring at each other.

  “Well, come on then,” I tell the kid.

  Clutching Woody in one hand, Jack drags his beat-up cowboy suitcase in the other. When he nears me, I notice his lower lip quivering.

  “Here, let me get that, buddy.” I reach down and grab the luggage. “By the way, I’m Talan.”

  I give him my hand to shake, but he just stands there, clutching Woody to his chest and staring at my fingers. His sad puppy eyes are welling up.

  Damn you, Headmaster Boyle.

  The way he tries to blink his tears away makes my shoulders slump. I reach my hand down and gently take hold of his. “Is this okay?” I ask him. “I like to hold hands with my new friends.”

  He nods, clenching his trembling lips.

  “C’mon. Don’t do that, kid. You’ll be okay.” I tug him forward by the hand.

  Struggling in his boots, he takes three steps for every one of mine. I walk super slow, watching his eyes survey the streets like he’s landed on an alien planet. We make it to the corner and he tucks his chin down. I can’t hear a peep, but I know he’s crying by the way his tiny shoulders bob up and down.

  Awww, geez.

  He pulls his arm away and hides his face in his hands. I kneel down and reach for him, unsure what to do next. I pat his back with awkward little taps, feeling useless until he falls weeping into my chest. His skinny arms wrap around my ribs and his shaking body melts onto mine. My arms bundle him while he sobs into my shoulder. Snot and tears soak my hoodie, but I couldn’t give a damn. I’d give anything to make him feel better right now.

  At this moment, I understand why the Shanahans do what they do. And why William and Mary Singer founded this school. Why Coach Gaspari pumps up even the suckiest players and why my counselor refuses to give up on me. People gotta look out for one another.

  I’m clearly hanging with Laney too much.

  Jack’s breathing settles after a couple minutes, and he lifts his head.

  “You feeling better, little man?”

  He wipes his runny nose with his sleeve and nods.

  “Here, hop up.” I turn my back to him. “I’m gonna give you a real Talan Michaels horseyback ride all the way to your new house.”

  He climbs up and once I have him good, I grab the luggage and gallop all the way down Mill Street to Homestead Drive. When we get to his house, I set the suitcase down and slide him off carefully.

  I crouch next to him and point at Hampton House. “This is your new home, Jack.”

  He looks at it the same way I look at a dark, cramped closet. His hand slips back into mine and holds on for

  dear life.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” I whisper. “Mr. and Mrs. Foster are the nicest, coolest houseparents here. I promise. You’re going to have so much fun, so don’t be scared. Okay?”

  He nods and I walk him to the porch. The door opens and Mrs. Foster steps out. “Hi Talan, thanks for bringing him.” She bends down with a huge smile. “Hi Jack. We’ve been waiting for you. All the kids are so excited to meet you.” She holds out her hand for him, but he cowers behind my leg.

  He looks up at me and squeezes my fingers even tighter.

  I kneel beside him. “It’ll be okay. I promised, didn’t I? You’re gonna like it here.” I point across the street. “Now, you see that house with the bright red door?”

  Jack leans around me.

  “That’s where I live. We’re brothers now, so if you ask your housemother, you can come over whenever you want and hang with me. Okay?”

  He nods.

  “Anytime you feel scared or lonely, you get your butt over and ring my bell. Got it?” He giggles at the word butt.

  Jack finally lets go of my hand and takes Mrs. Foster’s. She grabs the suitcase from me, and Jack steps through the doorway with big clunky steps.

  “Hey, Jack?” I say. He looks over his shoulder at me. “Your past won’t dictate your future.” His forehead grows lines like I said it in Chines
e. “It means you’re gonna be happy here. Just give it a chance and let people help you.”

  Twenty-three

  As I walk in the front door, Dad breezes by with a bucket of tools in his hand. “Talan, your friends are waiting for you in your room.”

  “Who?” I ask, yanking my hoodie over my head.

  As he heads for the garage, he calls back, “Zack Hunter and Cameron Something-or-other.”

  The hairs on my neck stand up. I turn, and Laney is watching me from the family room. She frowns and lifts her palms in a what’s up gesture. I shrug, trudge to my room, and slowly open the door.

  Zack stretches back on my bed, while Cameron stares at a poster on my wall. When he notices me, Cam says, “I didn’t know you liked the Broken Popes. I can get you tickets and an off-campus pass for their April concert if you’re interested.”

  I toss my hoodie on my bed. “What do you want, Cameron?”

  “Why don’t you close the door so we can talk?”

  When I go to shut the door, I notice Laney standing in the hall outside, listening. I keep it open just a crack.

  “Mind getting up?” I ask Zack. “That’s my only comforter. I’d hate to have to burn it.”

  His lip snarls and he starts to say something when Cameron waves him to stop. Zack stands up and I notice something. “Nice penny loafers.”

  “They’re Cole Haans,” he says, all cocky.

  “Well, you should give them back. She might need them for the sock hop.”

  Zack lunges forward, but Cameron’s arm flies up to stop him. “It’s a designer, Tal.”

  I interrupt him. “I know who he is. I was making fun of Zack.” I look them both up and down. “New North Face jackets too? Did you rob the Executive Building?”

  “They were a gift,” Cameron says. “From Mr. Kane.”

  “Oh. A gift. Is that what you call selling out for money?” I get comfortable on my bed, lying back and bending my arms behind my neck. “Why don’t you tell me what you want so I can get back to sleep.”

  “Mr. Kane has a message: If you can’t beat us, join us.”

  I sit up. “I can beat you? Awesome. Let me grab my bat.”

  Cameron’s dying to let me have it, but he can’t. I can see it in his eyes. It’s not self-control that’s holding him back. It’s Stephen Kane. “Let me ask you something,” he says. “Have you heard about the damage the Sevens did around campus?”

  “The Sevens didn’t do that,” I snap.

  “How would you know?” Zack says.

  “I don’t. It’s just a hunch, but it seems more like something a group of six douchebags might do.”

  Zack clenches his fist. “You really should be more afraid.”

  “Afraid of what? You?” I laugh. “You’re the ones who should be scared.”

  “We don’t have a thing to worry about.”

  “Oh, I think you have a few things. Seven, to be exact.”

  “So there is a Society of Seven,” Zack says.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You keep talking about it, not me.”

  “If you tell us what you know, we can make your life very easy. You might as well reap the benefits of Mr. Kane’s friendship. You’ll never be able to stop us.”

  “If you don’t think we can stop you, then why are you here?”

  “We? So you are working with others.”

  Damn. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You did,” Cam says. “Tell us what you know, Michaels. What have you found and who’s helping you?”

  “Hmm. Well, I found a new friend today. A little kid named Jack. Just moved in across the street.”

  “No one is going to want to be friends with you when we’re done with you.”

  I need to shut my mouth before I say anything else.

  Hopping up, I stare down at Cameron. “You know what the best part of having ADHD is? I’ll forget all about you and this stupid conversation the moment something more interesting comes to mind.” I stare off at the ceiling. “I wonder if there’s any Cocoa Puffs left?”

  I walk to the door and open it. My heart skips a couple thumps when I see Laney just outside. She spins around and dashes down the hall. I look back over my shoulder, relieved that they couldn’t have seen her from where they’re standing.

  “Oh, are you two still here?” I tell them. “You know your way out, right?”

  I open the door wide and they take the hint. When they pass me, Cameron pauses to whisper, “We can make things very bad for your friends.”

  “I know,” I say through gritted teeth. “That’s exactly why we’re going to stop you.”

  His eyes narrow as he hustles out, and I follow them down the hall. They reach the front door just as Josh, Jake and Marcus walk in.

  Marcus’ stare moves from them to me. When the door slams, he says, “What? Did you feel like slumming it today, Tal?”

  I stall because I can’t think of a reason I’d be talking with those two. “What do you mean?”

  Marcus crosses his arms and gives me a look he usually reserves for offensive linemen. What the hell?

  “We were supposed to practice drills with Marcus this morning, remember?” Jake explains.

  Shoot. That’s right. Marcus is gunning for a scholarship and Coach mentioned some colleges were coming out to scout this month. We were gonna practice with him at 7:30.

  “Sorry. I had detention.”

  Jake nods at the door. “What were those two assholes doing here?”

  “They … they heard I had weed and came to buy some.”

  Marcus’ head jerks back. “Weed? Where would you get weed?”

  “Got me. That’s what I told them.”

  He opens his mouth to say something, but stops when we hear Mom coming around the corner. She eyes them and says, “You boys get those muddy clothes off right now. I won’t have you messing up this clean house.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Josh says.

  Mom corrals them toward the showers, leaving me standing there alone.

  Behind me, Laney whispers, “This is one weird day.”

  I turn to see her leaning against the door frame. “You’re telling me.”

  “First, you get up early on a Sunday,” she says softly. “Then, we find a secret message in Founders Hall. And now, two Pillars try to bribe you to keep your mouth shut about information you don’t have. Not to mention I watched you skipping all the way down Mill Street with a kid on your back.”

  I throw my shoulders back. “I wasn’t skipping. I was galloping. Girls skip. Guys gallop.”

  “Where do you get these weird gender hang-ups?” she says. “I can gallop if I want. You can even skip if you want.”

  “But I don’t want to. ’Cause I’m a guy. Guys don’t skip.”

  “Forget I said anything.” She crosses her arms and comes over. “So what’d you make of Cameron and Zack’s little visit?”

  “Did you hear all of it?”

  She nods, and I squeeze the back of my neck. “I’m afraid I said too much again.”

  “I don’t think you told them anything new. They already suspect someone’s resurrecting the Sevens and that you’re involved.”

  “Yeah, but I confirmed there are other Sevens. You heard them. More than ever, we need to be sure we’re never seen in public together.”

  “And we can’t be alone together at home because of Mom,” she reminds me. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  That night, Dad walks into dinner late. “I just got off the phone with Headmaster Boyle,” he announces. “In light of the grave robbing and recent vandalism around campus, he’s enforcing a 9:30 curfew for everyone.” He pans each of our faces. “If any of you know who was involved in this, I suggest you start talking. In the meantime, say goodbye to your social lives.”

  There’s a chorus of groans. Except for Marcus, who mumbles under his breath, “Damn Sevens.”

  Twenty-four

  Monday morning, I’m standing at my locker bef
ore first bell, so tired that I almost miss the black envelope taped inside the door. I rip it down and slide out a hall pass stapled to a note that says:

  In case you didn’t notice, there’s a lesson there for you.

  Marcus appears over my shoulder and says, “What’s that about?”

  “Nothing.” My hands fumble with the note and I almost drop it. “I have an appointment with my counselor today.”

  “Uh oh. Did Boyle figure out it was you that put the I HOPE YOU’RE AS HOT WHEN I’M SOBER bumper sticker on his Prius?”

  “No. Not yet anyhow.” I’m not sure what to say; I hate lying to my friends. It’s not the same as BS-ing a teacher or whatever. I settle for a half-truth. “Ms. Bennett is still hounding me about my college plans. I guess they’re in a hurry to get rid of me.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Laney strolling down the hall. When she opens her locker, her widening eyes tell me that she found an envelope too.

  “What are you looking at?” Marcus says. “Talan?” He checks over his shoulder and then back to me. His eyes get all squinty. “Is there something going on between you and Laney?”

  “Shanahan? No.” I grab my math book and fake-shudder. “Definitely not.”

  “Why? She’s cute enough.” The way his gaze returns to her, roaming all over her body, bugs the shit out of me.

  “She’s going out with LeDouche. And quit looking at her like that. She’s practically your sister.”

  “She’s clearly not my sister. I’m black, if you haven’t noticed. She’s my housemate.” He elbows me and wiggles his eyebrows. “A housemate with great boobs.”

  I shove him hard without realizing it, and he drops his folder. “What, Tal? Don’t tell me you never thought about her like that. You saw her in that dress.”

  “It’s Laney.” I glare at him. “Knock it off already. I don’t like you talking about her like that.”

  “Okay, okay. She’s your sister, I get it.” Marcus bends down to pick up his folder and I lift my eyes and catch Laney watching me. She looks around before sliding her black envelope from behind the book she’s holding. I nod that I got one too.

  Marcus stands up and I slam my locker shut.

  “Think you can stay out of detention long enough to work on drills this week?” he says. “Scouts are coming to the Hershey game and I want be ready.”