by Lisa Roecker
For the first time since Grace died, she actually sounded like the Maddie I used to know. And now that I looked at her more carefully, I saw that behind the tired eyes there was a spark. She really was going to be okay.
“I just hope that we can start fresh too. I’ve missed you, Kate. I can’t even tell you how much. I’m so sorry for not trusting you. When I saw you with that page from my journal, I thought…well, I’m sure you can guess what I thought.”
My eyes watered and I had to look away for a minute, because I’d done the same thing. I thought she’d come back for revenge, but really she just came back to make amends.
“But if we’re going to be friends again, I need to know that you’re starting fresh too. I don’t want to talk about anything that’s happened or hang out with anyone in the societies. I’m just not ready to talk about her or them or any of it.”
My mind flashed to all of the pictures of Grace around Maddie’s room. It seemed so strange to me that she could live with the pictures but couldn’t even bring herself to say Grace’s name. But if I’d learned one thing over the past couple years it was that different people deal with things in different ways, and I was in no position to judge Maddie. But I wasn’t ready to make any promises either.
An image of Taylor flashed in my mind, followed quickly by one of Bethany standing with Alistair and Bradley the night of Obsideo.
“How about we both just do our best, okay? I think that’s all anyone can ask of us right now.” It wasn’t a lie, but it certainly wasn’t the truth either. I was getting far too comfortable dealing in that shadowy area between the two.
“Deal.” A hint of a smile, a real one this time, played on her lips as we shuffled off the bus and into the world of Pemberly Brown. We linked arms and walked into school together, just the way we did on our first day at the Academy all those years ago.
I slapped the bronze plaque that marked Station 1, the main entrance, but Maddie ignored it completely. I hoped someday I’d be brave enough to do the same, but I wasn’t ready to test my luck just yet.
The loudspeaker crackled and beeped overhead, and I heard the school secretary’s voice screech over the din of slamming locker doors and muffled conversations.
“Kate Lowry, report to the headmaster’s office immediately. I repeat, Kate Lowry, report to Headmaster Sinclair’s office immediately.”
Maddie dropped her arm from mine and gave me a long, sad look. So much for my promise.
“Guess I should wish you good luck.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need it.”
“Nah, something tells me you’ll be fine.” But she took a few steps backward, already putting distance between us. “Well, when you’re ready, I’ll be here,” she said softly.
I nodded in response and wove my way to the headmaster’s office. Sometimes it was better being alone…easier. Ever since Grace died I’d spent almost every day trying to believe just that, and I’d almost convinced myself.
Almost.
Chapter 20
Headmaster Sinclair was pretty much the embodiment of everything that was wrong with Pemberly Brown: a sexist little man with an ego bigger than all his students’ trust funds combined. Pretty much your typical corrupt, power-hungry Brotherhood alumnus. Lucky for him, the Brotherhood’s powerful network meant he’d always have a job at Pemberly Brown, one of the many perks of being a member. And lucky me, I’d managed to earn myself a special spot on his shit list. We had done our best to avoid each other in the months following the near destruction of the societies that ruled Pemberly Brown, like some sort of unspoken treaty.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t been keeping up my end of the bargain lately, and I was guessing that Headmaster Sinclair wasn’t too pleased about that. Or maybe he’d gotten wind that Ms. D. was trying to help us locate Bethany. Either way, I was pretty sure this wasn’t an office visit informing me that I was on track to be valedictorian of my class.
He tapped a pen on his desk rhythmically, his back facing me as I walked through the door.
“Shut the door behind you.”
I was pretty sure that was illegal, seeing that I was an underage girl, but I did as I was told. I had at least ten pounds on Sinclair, and he seemed like the kind of guy who only threw punches when he was sure he could win the fight.
“Kate Lowry!” At this he spun around in his seat for added drama, a wicked smile on his face. I swear to God, if he’d had a mustache, he would have been twirling it deviously. His beady eyes flickered over the length of me, evaluating my uniform for any breach of the dress code. Luckily Maddie’s skirt fell just below my knee, and the shirt was a little wrinkled but perfectly acceptable. “We were rushing this morning, weren’t we?”
My stomach instantly reacted to his mention of an “us,” and I thought I might lose my breakfast. “No, actually, I took the bus.” A silence lingered then and I wondered when he was going to spit out why I got called down here in the first place.
Reading my mind he said, “So, Kate, would you like to tell us why we have the pleasure of this meeting?” He rocked in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, sizing me up.
It was the oldest trick in the book, and I wasn’t about to fall for listing fifteen rules I’d supposedly broken to get sent to the headmaster. I hated when adults assumed I was a jackass. Two could play at this game.
“This has to do with Bethany Giordano, doesn’t it?”
I had to hand it to him. Sinclair did an extra-good job of looking flustered. Either Ms. D. hadn’t started negotiations yet, or his acting was coming along. He must have taken a community course or something. He’d make a perfect Claudius.
“I suppose it does.” He narrowed his eyes and placed his elbows on the desk, folding his hands together Dr. Evil–style.
My pulse quickened and I wished I’d had the foresight to record our conversation. I had no idea what would come out of his mouth, but I was willing to bet Grace’s pearls it’d be valuable.
“Ms. Richardson approached me the other day with some concerns. She expressed that you were wandering the halls during class. The entire staff is very well versed in your ‘psychological accommodations,’ Ms. Lowry, but cutting class is unacceptable.”
I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off.
“I also want to take this time to remind you about the newest section of our handbook.” He lifted a sheet of paper with a highlighted section of text. “Students caught participating in any type of secret, exclusive social club outside Pemberly Brown’s affiliated groups will be punished and possibly expelled.”
“But—”
“I can only assume that the business you were attending to as you cut class was ‘secret-society’ related, and this behavior will not be tolerated.”
“I…” My cheeks were flaming, the anger coursing through my bloodstream like acid.
“There is nothing for you to say. It’s very clear to me and your teachers how you operate, and you need to know you’re being watched. You’re on thin ice, young lady.”
So much for school being a safe place. Not that I ever thought it was.
“Now if you’ll excuse me…” He raised his thin eyebrows as though I was the one who’d interrupted his morning. He shuffled papers on his desk, an important-looking set of blueprints revealed for a flash. It made me wonder what Sinclair even did all day. Threaten girls? Move papers around on his desk? Examine blueprints for some shady lair he was building?
As much as I felt defeated, as much as I wanted to hunch my shoulders and slink out of his office with my head hung low, I knew better than that. As my father was fond of reminding me, “Never let ’em see you sweat.” I’d always thought it sounded more like an ad for deodorant than a source of inspiration, but in this moment the whole concept sort of crystallized for me.
I threw my head back, straightened my shoulders, and started for the door. And that’s when I saw it. A creamy piece of stationery with a red seal and what looked like a B written in crisp calligrap
hy on the front. Without breaking my stride, I stepped on the paper and dragged it out of the office under my shoe in what I hoped looked like some type of dance move.
Lucky for me, I felt fairly confident that dancing my way out the door trumped that whole never-letting-’em see-me-sweat BS.
Chapter 21
The second I emerged into the bustling hallway, I bent down and picked up the envelope beneath my shoe. It was thick and textured. Expensive. I couldn’t help but think that if the societies really wanted to fly under the radar, they’d use cheap printer paper for their communications like the rest of the world.
My fingers grazed Bethany’s name written in small, square letters, then the embossed seal of the Brotherhood stamped in the corner. I lifted the flap carefully and a knot formed in my stomach. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to know the truth about Bethany. What if there’d been another horrible accident? What if she was dead? How would I tell Taylor? How would we get…
All the questions racing through my brain were extinguished when something hard and expensive-smelling crashed right into me—Bradley Farrow’s chest. The envelope fell to the floor, and I dove to grab it before Bradley could. When my fingers curled around the card stock, I breathed a short sigh of relief and shoved it under my shirt as nonchalantly as I could manage.
As soon as I lifted my chin, I met Bradley’s golden eyes, which were focused a few inches lower than my own eyes, right down the gap in my uniform shirt. Apparently I’d popped a button in my haste to save the evidence. I felt a flush of warmth begin in my cheeks and move its way down to my chest. Oh, great…my boobs were blushing.
I stood up without adjusting my shirt. There was absolutely no way that I was going to give him the satisfaction of watching me scramble to cover myself up. And, hey, at least I wasn’t wearing one of my tired-looking sports bras, so I could take some comfort in the fact that the girls were looking their best.
“No, really, I’m fine. No reason to help me up.”
“Uh, last I checked you were standing in the middle of the hallway. Must have been a pretty interesting letter you were reading.”
“Yeah, well, whatever. I’ve gotta get to class.” So much for my razor-sharp wit. I decided to cut my losses and get the hell out of Dodge. Besides, I’d have to hurry to the bathroom if I wanted to read whatever was on that stationery before first period started.
“Wait.” Bradley fell into step next to me. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about last night.” His voice dropped to a whisper, and a pained expression momentarily darkened his handsome features. “I know what you must think of me, but it wasn’t what it seemed. I just showed up there with the rest of the guys. I have nothing against you or Maddie or anyone. I was just there.”
“Hey, I have an idea,” I said as Bradley’s face brightened. “Why don’t we sit down and talk about all of this?”
“Really? Because I’d love the chance to explain everything…” He stopped in front of one of the windows, and the winter sun bounced in his eyes, making them look like liquid gold.
Yeah, yeah, he was hot, but he was also a terrible liar. I didn’t have time for this crap. Not today, not ever.
“Right, so tell me where Bethany is and I’m all yours.”
Bradley’s face went completely blank.
“Right. That’s what I figured.”
I ducked into the closest bathroom, ignoring Bradley’s protests, and slipped past the row of girls jockeying for mirror space and obsessively applying lip gloss. I didn’t dare retrieve the envelope from beneath my shirt until I was safely in the handicap stall.
A quick prayer came automatically as I lifted out the thick paper inside. Careful notes filled the page. I recognized the handwriting immediately from the countless labs we’d been forced to complete together. Ben Montrose. He’d written a series of times on the page, followed by what I assumed were Bethany’s actions.
4:27—Arrived
4:42—First drink
4:57—Talks to Taylor and Co.
All leading up to the chilling scream. After that the notes stopped.
A picture of Bethany had been included in the envelope, a bright red cup in her hand. Her eyes glowed white, like a person possessed or an animal darting out of the woods. Clearly the picture had been taken at night. Obsideo.
But why the hell was my rocks-for-brains lab partner stalking Bethany? And more importantly, did this mean he’d know where they’d taken her? As usual, more information led to more questions.
“Find me.”
A voice called from somewhere in the bathroom. The girl’s voice was deep and raspy, like she’d smoked cigarette after cigarette the night before.
I scrambled to free myself from the bathroom stall just in time to see the door to the hallway swinging shut. Pushing through, I caught a tall, dark-haired figure turning the corner in the hallway ahead. It was Bethany; it had to be. I dropped my bag on the ground and raced after her.
Chapter 22
In. Out. In. Out.
All other sounds melted away except the whooshing of air in and out of my lungs. I pictured it spilling in like smoke, filling every crevice, and then pouring out again and dissipating. On repeat. The hallway narrowed as I ran, closing in against me, but I fought off the claustrophobia by hanging on to the image of Bethany. If I could only imagine her perfectly—her thick, black hair and olive skin—maybe I’d swing around the corner and bump into her this time. She’d act pissed and I’d pretend to be sorry, and this whole mess would be over as quickly as it had started. Like dodging a bullet.
My fingers trailed along the wall as I turned, the hallway opening up as the last few students slipped into their first-period classes with the bell. But none of them was Bethany. Instead, Ms. D. walked the hallway, shooing students out of bathrooms and away from lockers.
“Ms. D.,” I said, jogging to close the space between us. “Did you see her?” I whispered, my eyes darting. It wasn’t until after the words left my mouth that I regretted them. I shouldn’t have admitted seeing anyone, not even to Ms. D. It’d only make things worse. The hallucinations, ghosts—whatever you wanted to call them—were back, and I had to figure out a way to deal with them that didn’t involve tearing around the hallways of my school like some kind of lunatic. Preferably without having to take the awful pink pills that made me feel like I was sleepwalking through my life.
Ms. D. glanced at her watch, wrinkles lining the space between her brows. “First period already started, honey. Not sure who you’re looking for, but it needs to wait.”
I was already in, so I might as well dig deeper. Maybe I wasn’t imagining anything. Maybe she was real. “It was Bethany. I swear I saw her running through the hallways.”
Ms. D.’s face softened then, which made me regret not rushing to get to first period like everyone else. Why was I constantly chasing ghosts? What was wrong with me?
“Kate, I know you and Taylor are worried, but there’s no reason you all need to be involved. Let me handle this.”
I rubbed my tired eyes and wanted so badly to believe her, to let her take over. The radio at her waist crackled to life and she patted my shoulder, called away to some other emergency with the promise that she’d fix everything. I trusted Ms. D., but deep down I knew she was no match for Headmaster Sinclair and the Brotherhood. Turns out trusting and believing are two very different things.
My phone buzzed from my pocket, making me jump about a mile. Normally I kept it tucked in the front of my bag during school hours to avoid demerits, but I must have forgotten. I hesitated before sliding my fingers across the screen to read the incoming text. What if it was another picture of Bethany? What if they had another girl now? What if I was next?
But instead of an unknown number, Liam’s picture popped up on my screen.
We need to talk.
I deleted it almost instantly. He’d been there last night with all of the Brothers. However it had happened, he’d participated in Maddie’s humiliation. And on top
of all that, he was probably still pissed at me for ditching him during open period yesterday. So he’d spent all day avoiding me, and then when I caught him red-handed at a Brotherhood-sanctioned event, he suddenly wanted to talk? No thanks.
Defeated, I made my way back to my bag, only to find Taylor Wright standing there imperiously, reading the letter I’d stolen from the headmaster’s office.
“When were you planning on telling me about this?” She spoke with quiet restraint, but the anger in her tone had the same impact as if she’d shouted the words at me.
“I just found it, and then I was in the bathroom and this girl, I’m sure it was…” I paused mid-sentence to consider my words carefully. The reality was that I had a history of seeing people that others didn’t always seem to see. Dr. Prozac claimed it was an emotional response triggered by stressful situations, but I wasn’t so sure. I mean, could an emotional response really run through gardens or the halls of our ancient school? Either way, Ms. D. already thought I was insane. There was absolutely no way I was going to let Taylor join the party. Better to focus on the concrete stuff.
“I found it in the headmaster’s office this morning.” Thank God. I got the words out of my mouth before I could say anything stupid.
“But what does it mean? Who wrote it? Do you think the headmaster is involved somehow?” Taylor quietly fired questions at me, her blue eyes trained carefully on my face, watching for the faintest flicker of a lie.
“I think that’s Ben Montrose’s handwriting. At least, I’m pretty sure.”
“But he is not a Brother. Why would he be stalking Bethany at Obsideo?” Taylor wrung her hands and I noticed her signature ballet-slipper-pink polish, not a chip or smudge in sight. My own nails were bitten down, each painted a different color weeks ago but now chipped almost completely off. I realized then how much fingernails could say without words. Even during the most stressful days, Taylor’s could remain intact, almost perfect. Mine were a hot mess. There was a metaphor in there somewhere.