“I have no idea what’s holding her back. Maybe because you come on to everything with two X chromosomes? I know Laney pretty well. She must have told me a hundred times she’d rather wait for something great than settle for something just to have a guy. I’m sure it’s from being brought up with six brothers. She’d rather wait for something real and romantic.”
“I’m romantic. Ask any of the girls I’ve hooked up with.”
“The fact that you’ve hooked up with half the girls at Singer doesn’t make you romantic. It makes you risky. Laney doesn’t want to be someone a guy just ‘hooks up’ with.”
“But it wouldn’t be that way with her.”
“Well, how would she know that? It’s like being the last one picked in gym class.”
“She’s not my last choice. She’s my first. I never wanted a girlfriend before.”
“Maybe you need to prove that to her.”
“How? What do I do?”
Kollin chuckles. “Are you asking me to help you?”
“Yeah. I am. Will you?”
“For Laney.” Kollin’s face gets serious. “But if you hurt her, I’ll bury you. I don’t care if you’re a Seven or not.”
I elbow him. “So how does a gay guy know so much about women?”
“How does a guy who’s hooked up with a hundred girls know so little?”
“Touché.” I look him straight in the eye. “ … So you’ll help me, Kollin?”
“Of course. We’re Sevens,” he says. His answer makes me feel bad for all the times I called him a waste of oxygen. “Just call me Cyrano.”
“Who?”
“This is going to be harder than explaining quantum physics to a four-year-old.”
I kick a rock in my path. “It can’t be any harder than finding a document that’s been missing for two decades when we don’t have a clue where to look.”
“That’s true.” Kollin rubs his forehead as he walks. “If only Singer didn’t wait so long to give the Sevens that final test.” He shakes his head. “I gotta be honest, I just don’t see how we’re going to solve this. How does Boyle think we can figure out in a few weeks what he couldn’t in almost two decades? What does he expect us to do? Channel William Singer and ask him where he hid it?”
I shrug.
“This school means a lot to me, Talan. I love my dad more than anything, but this is the family that raised me. I can’t imagine that Singer School might not be here next year.” Kollin’s shoulders drop. “Some of my best friends are sophomores and juniors. What’s going to happen to them?”
Chris and Mike and Jack Dominguez and a dozen other faces appear in my head. I get a desperate, queasy feeling.
The forest ends ten yards ahead. We say goodbye, and Kollin, Emily, and Jose veer off the path toward their student homes, leaving Laney and me alone.
Might as well face this.
I catch up to Laney and she gets all fidgety. “Maybe we should walk separately,” she says.
My stomach sinks. “Okay. But I need to tell you something.”
She glances at me with worried eyes.
“I’m going to wait for you, Shanahan. ’Cause I’d rather wait than settle for something that’s not you.”
God that sounded stupid.
I jog ahead so I don’t have to see her reaction.
Thirty-nine
I can’t believe I’m at school a half hour early.
“Kollin?” I say.
He looks around the door of his locker. “Michaels … what are you doing here already?”
“Couldn’t sleep. You?”
“Same.” He lifts a hand to the top of his locker and hangs there, a dazed look in his eyes. “We’ve had a lot to think about. We have a few weeks to find that TPD or our friends are homeless. No pressure, huh?”
“I know. It’s mind-blowing.” I check the empty hall. “Listen, can I throw an idea at you?”
“Sure.” He slams his locker closed and leans back against it.
“I was up all night thinking, and, well, maybe there’s more to those tests.”
“What do you mean?”
“One thing I figured out early on is that William Singer never did anything without a reason. You know? Everything ties together to show us something else, right?”
Kollin nods.
“Well, I was thinking about a couple things Boyle said. Like how Singer told the Sevens they’d know where the TPD was after the last test. And how the Sevens had been waiting and waiting for that final clue, so they assumed that’s why Singer called them together that night at the chapel.”
“Go on,” he says.
“Well, what if the Sevens already had the last clue, but they just didn’t realize it?”
He tips his head back. “What are you saying?”
“The poem Singer left in the hidden room after they finished their sixth test—what if that was the last clue? I can’t remember all of it, but I’m pretty sure it said something about being on their own and alone for the final ‘quest.’ A quest is a search to find something valuable, right? It has to be the TPD—what else would it be? Maybe that poem was saying that the final test for wisdom was to use everything they’d learned to find the TPD on their own.”
He stares, and I’m not sure if he’s thinking I’m crazy or a genius.
“Yeah … I’d need to reread that clue, but you could be right. Man, you have a good memory.” There’s actually shock in his eyes. “Laney was right—you are a brainiac.”
My insides feel like they’re vibrating. “I’ll go to the mausoleum tonight and copy the poem word for word. You come over later to hang with Laney and we’ll brainstorm together when I get back.”
He smacks me on the arm. “If you’re right, we might have a shot of finding that TPD after all. That’s an amazing catch.”
What’s amazing is how much more I like this guy than I did twenty-four hours ago.
Then Kollin’s face gets all serious. “So, did you get a chance to talk to Delaney last night?”
“No.”
“I’ll feel her out for you today,” he says. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Kollin LeBeau is a nice guy? Marcus had it right—weird stuff is going on.
Speaking of Marcus, right then he turns down the end of hallway with Josh and Jake.
“Shoot,” I whisper. “Don’t let anyone see us all friendly or they’ll know something’s up.” I give Kollin the evil eye and whisper through gritted teeth, “Act like we’re fighting.”
His face busts out into a wicked grin. That’s more like it. He drops the book in his hand and shoves me hard in the shoulders. “You fucking loser, stay away from me!”
Wow. And I thought I was a good actor.
“I’m not afraid of you,” he says, shoving me harder.
I regain my footing and lunge at him. The three of them are near us now. I grab Kollin by the neck and slam him hard into his locker, feeling awful when I hear the metal bang. When I stretch my arm back to throw a punch, my prediction is fulfilled. Marcus grabs me and yanks me away.
“Dude!” Marcus says. “What are you thinking? You can’t do this here. You’ll be expelled.”
Josh and Jake wedge themselves between us, their stunned gazes ping-ponging between Kollin and me.
Kollin bends over and picks up his book, pointing the thing at me while nursing his head. “Good thing your friends have better sense than you,” he says all cocky. “I’d love to see trash like you get kicked to the curb.”
Crack me up, that was Boyle’s line from last night.
I take a wild swing from behind Marcus. Pointing at Kollin, I hiss, “Watch your back. I’m not through with you.”
I’m thinking we deserve an Oscar when I notice the stares of the other students milling around their lockers now. Cameron Moore and Kayla Kaminski whisper as they glare at me.
When Jake grabs my sleeve to haul me out of there, I shake him off like I’m still pissed. I walk away on my own, all dramati
c and pouty, and head toward my English class.
Cameron follows me in the room. “Notice anyone missing this morning?” he says. “Or were you too busy with LeBeau to realize your girlfriend wasn’t around?”
It takes a second to figure out he’s talking about Emily. “What are you up to, Moore?”
“Nothing. I just noticed her in Headmaster Boyle’s office. That’s all.”
I want to pound the grin off his face.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he says. “There was an anonymous tip that she was involved with some of the vandalism around school. The police called her into Boyle’s office for questioning.”
“An anonymous tip, huh? Yeah, that’ll hold up in court.”
“You never know.” One shoulder rises with his eyebrows. “Maybe they’ll find some evidence in her locker.”
“You dirtbag … ”
“Mr. Kane is giving you another chance. Are you ready to turn over what you know, or do we need to step up our game?”
“You think I’m afraid of you? Bring it on.”
“You sure about that?” he says. “Marcus already lost his chance at a scholarship and Emily is being cross-examined as we speak by an officer who’s good friends with Mr. Kane. One by one, your posse will fall. You’re running out of time, Talan. The only reason Kane hasn’t ruined you is that he’s hoping you’re smart enough to give him what he needs before he destroys every last one of your friends.”
Heat flushes through my body. The thought of Emily being framed for Cameron trashing our school makes my muscles knot. I think of Marcus not getting a football scholarship and the Shanahans losing their jobs. I think about Headmaster Boyle losing six people who meant so much to him when he was just seventeen. And then I think of two thousand kids wondering where they’ll be in a year, just like me.
I grab Cameron’s collar. “I have a message for you to deliver to Mr. Kane.” I’m squeezing the fabric so tight, Moore gags. “The Sevens are back, and Kane and the Pillars are going down. We’ll have that TPD in hand for that board meeting, so get ready for an ass kicking.”
I slam Cameron to the floor and he scuttles back, blocking his face with his hands before stumbling to his feet and racing out of the room.
As great as it feels to take Cameron down, damn! What have I said?
I collapse in my seat, shaky sick, trembling as the rest of the class wanders in. Jose parks himself next to me, leans over, and whispers, “Did you hear what happened to Emily?”
“Yeah, Cameron told me.”
“At least Boyle will be there. He’ll help her somehow.”
After class, Jose pulls me aside. “If you hear anything more about Emily, let me know.” We exchange phone numbers just as Marcus turns the corner. His eyes zero in on Jose and me.
“I gotta go. We’ll talk later,” I say.
Jose jogs off in the opposite direction before Marcus walks up.
“What’s up?”
“Hey,” Marcus says. He looks past me, his brow furrowed. “What were you and Aguilar talking about?”
“Nothing. Just shooting the shiz.”
“Since when have you been friends with Jose Aguilar?”
“We sit next to each other in a couple classes. Why the third degree? Are you spying on me now?”
“I’m not spying, you jerk. You were upset this morning and I came to see if everything was okay. We used to be best friends, remember? I guess you forgot that, now that you’re hanging with Cameron Moore and Jose Aguilar.”
“I’m not hanging with Moore. I told you he came to the house looking for weed.”
“Which you don’t do.”
“Which is what I told him.”
“You say a lot of things, man. You’re also stressed and moody all the time. Seriously, beating on LeBeau in the middle of the hallway? What were you thinking?”
“He was bugging me. He’s a douchebag.”
“He’s not the only one.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re the one cheating with his girlfriend.” Marcus rubs his face. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to judge you and I don’t want to fight. You’re my best friend. But something’s going on with you and you won’t tell me what. Are we friends or not?”
“Of course we’re friends.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
I want to tell him, but I can’t. I took a vow. It’s for his sake too. His sister is a freshman. If Singer closes, she’ll have no place to go and he’ll be freaking out over how to help her. And what if Kane hurts him to get information on the Sevens? I can’t risk him being involved with this.
“Everything’s fine. You’re worried about nothing.” I hold out my fist for him to bump but he just stares at it. He bumps my shoulder as he passes me and heads to his next class.
Marcus doesn’t talk to me for the rest of the day. In fact, a few of the guys are treating me cold. It’s getting to me, but I have bigger problems right now. They do, too. Only they don’t know it because they’re riding on my shoulders.
Forty
The quiet at dinner is so strained that even Mom asks if everything’s all right. No one says a word to me, even as we clean up afterward.
When my housebrothers leave to play Cyber Combat Zone, I sneak out the front door. I need to get to the mausoleum and back in time to talk to Kollin and Laney.
I’m jogging near the end of my street when two figures dodge behind the last house. Dressed in black, with hoodies pulled over their faces, they trail me from a distance across campus. I decide to duck into the library and take the elevator up. After a while, I take the back stairs down and sneak out the rear exit.
It wastes a lot of time, but at least I’m alone when I hit the woods. I race to the mausoleum and slip through the secret door in the statue. Standing on the landing, I realize I have to go down the stairs in the dark. Alone.
My throat tightens.
It’s twelve stairs, and then the sensor light goes on. I can do this. But what if it doesn’t go on? What if I’m stuck in the dark or trapped down there alone or … No. I can do this. It’s twelve steps. Twelve.
I push the button to close the door and trap myself inside the black. One, two, three … I count my quick steps to the bottom room and thank God when the light goes on. I practically fall into the room, heaving in a panic attack that I wasn’t prepared for. Jittery and lightheaded, I plop down and try to catch my breath.
When my hands finally steady, I pull out my notebook and scribble the poem word for word off the wall. There’s something out of place with it, but what? I read the first letters going down, thinking it could be another one of those column messages, but I get nothing.
I go over the poem so much I have it memorized. It says to use what we’ve learned to solve the last clue, but what do we use it on? It’s like we’re missing a half clue. Unless we already have it and don’t realize it. I pull out the map and see if I can apply the clues we learned earlier to come up with something. After a half hour, I’m just frustrated.
I jam the paper in my bag and jog up the stairs. Right in front of the secret door, I hear a voice outside and freeze.
“I don’t know, Cam. That was bad.” The male voice trembles so much, I can’t make it out. “Did you see all the blood? He wasn’t moving. What if we killed him?”
I peek out the narrow slit under the angel’s fingertips and see Cameron Moore shake Iman Kabal. “Get a grip. He’ll be fine in time. Mr. Kane wanted it to be bad.”
“But what if he dies? We were just supposed to back up Kane in some board meetings, not trash the school and beat the crap out of a kid.”
Cameron peels off his gloves. “We’re in this now, so deal with it.”
“I want to go home,” Iman says. “I’m gonna be sick.”
He’s not the only one. What did they do? Who did they beat up?
Cam grabs his arm. “Get it together.” He pulls Iman’s gloves off him and tosses both pairs asid
e. “We’ll hide everything here, just like Kane said. He’ll plant it in Michael’s locker with the master key, and no one will ever suspect us.”
Michael’s locker? As in, Talan Michaels? As in me? Iman’s not the only one who wants to throw up now.
Cam peeks out the mausoleum door.
“Let’s go,” he tells Kabal, and they both take off running.
The sensor light clicks off and my shaky hands have trouble finding the switch to open the door in the dark. When it finally slides over, I fall out of it and land on a bottle of spray paint and a steel rod. They leave red paint on my hands, or at least the can does. The red fluid on the rod might be blood.
This is what they plan on planting in my locker?
Like hell. I throw everything down the stairs and hit the switch to close the hatch.
I run all the way home, stopping only to wipe my hands on some soggy leaves in the woods. There can’t be any paint or blood on me in case someone sees me. I linger on the back porch before going in, searching my hands for any red stains.
The kitchen looks empty, so I creep through the back door. The family room is buzzing with voices. I kick off my damp shoes and use the break to scrub my hands and do a final once-over of my coat and clothes.
I try to steady my wobbly legs so I can look for Kollin and Laney. But the closer I get to the family room, the shakier I get. Someone’s bawling. Laney.
“What’s going on?” I ask. I feel flush and lightheaded. I’m sure I’m as pale as a baby’s butt.
Laney sits sobbing on the couch, her parents propping her up on both sides. The rest of my housebrothers huddle around her like a barbed-wired fence.
“Oh, Talan,” she wails. Her face is a blotchy red-blue color.
“What’s the matter?” I count heads, and our family is all present and accounted for. “What happened?”
Dad staggers over and whispers in my ear, “Someone attacked Kollin LeBeau tonight. He’s in intensive care with swelling on the brain and significant internal injuries. They induced a coma to relieve some of the intracranial pressure, but it doesn’t look good. They’re trying to reach his father in Afghanistan.”
I lower myself into a chair before my legs give out. “Do they have any idea who did it?”
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