by Risa Green
“And who were the other two?” Gretchen asked.
“Well, it was still Tina Holt and then also Joan Hedley.”
“Joan Hedley!” Gretchen shouted. Joan Hedley was the quietest, meekest woman she’d ever met. Joan Hedly blushed every time she opened her mouth to speak; how could she kiss another woman? Gretchen just couldn’t believe what Jessica was telling her right now. But it was obvious that Jessica did. A chill went down Gretchen’s spine. What did they do to her in that ceremony? she wondered. What did they say to make her believe this craziness?
“Anyway,” Jessica went on, “it was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement, until the board decided who was going to be chosen next. Your mom, I guess, had lobbied really hard that it should be you. She felt it was time to bring in some new blood, to get the next generation involved. And your mom felt that you were the best candidate. You know, winner of the Plotinus Award at graduation and all that. They were going to tell you this summer.”
Gretchen’s eyes got watery again. Things are going to happen to you, she heard her mother’s voice say. Things you can’t even imagine.
“So why haven’t they told me?” Gretchen wanted to know.
Jessica lowered her eyes. “Well, I guess some of the board members weren’t sure if you were ready. They didn’t know if you would be able to handle the responsibility right now since you’re, you know, emotionally distraught or whatever.”
Gretchen sniffed. “Who’s on this board, exactly?”
“Well, that’s the thing. It’s Tina Holt, obviously, and your mom was on it, and Joan Hedley, of course. And then there’s also Kristen Renwick, and …” Jessica paused.
“Your aunt,” Gretchen guessed.
“Yes,” Jessica said. “But there’s one other person, too.”
“And who’s that?”
Jessica closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to meet Gretchen’s searching gaze. “Me.”
“You! I don’t understand. How come you never told me about this? How could you keep something like that from me?”
Jessica shook her head. “I didn’t keep it from you. It just happened that night. I just told you: they called me into the room out of the blue, and they told me that I had been chosen to be on the board. They made me take an oath of secrecy and everything. That’s why I haven’t called you or answered any of your texts. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I should tell you, but they made me swear not to say anything to anyone. And I didn’t know how you’d react. I mean, don’t you think I know how crazy all of this sounds? But you’re my best friend, Gretchen. If it were me, I’d want you to tell me the truth.”
Gretchen had to sit down. This was all too much … too much. “So let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “The board chose you to fill the seat that was left behind by my mother, and then you all discussed whether or not I was emotionally capable of inheriting the Plotinus Ability? And where did you come out on that?”
“I said you were fine!” Jessica insisted. “I said that if it was what your mother wanted, then we should respect her wishes! I was on your side!” Jessica took a deep breath. Her face was red, and her hands were shaking. “At first everyone agreed with me. Joan, Kristen, Tina, all of them. But then Michelle got up and started arguing that you couldn’t possibly be stable enough to handle it. They asked me what my impressions were, and I told them that you were a strong person and that you would be fine. But Michelle wouldn’t let it go. She kept insisting that it wasn’t in your best interest right now, and she managed to convince Tina and Kristen. It was three against two.”
“And that’s why you think Michelle had something to do with the murder?”
Jessica nodded. “But it’s not just that. After it was settled that it wasn’t going to be you, we had to decide who it would be. And guess who didn’t hesitate to volunteer?”
Gretchen shrugged. “Okay, so she wanted to be the one to get this … this power or whatever. So what? That doesn’t mean she killed my mom.”
“I can’t explain it, Gretch. She was so forceful about the whole thing. It was like she had planned it all out: your mom dying, getting you ousted as her successor, and then volunteering to take your place. I just have a bad feeling about it.”
Gretchen picked up a strand of hair and twirled it around her finger. She couldn’t help thinking that everyone in the Oculus Society—or at least the people on this “secret board”—had gone completely insane. They have so much real power in this town. They’ve somehow convinced themselves that they’ve got magical powers now, too.
“Okay. Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say that Michelle really believes this magical power exists, and she wanted it so badly that she was willing to kill my mother for it. What are we supposed to do? Go to the police? They’d never believe us, and you’d get kicked out of the Oculus Society for telling them.”
“No, we obviously couldn’t tell the police. We’d have to find evidence first and then go to them with that. But at least I have a lead.”
Gretchen shook her head stubbornly. “I have a lead, too. And her name is Ariel Miller.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “You’re still on that? Gretch, nobody saw her that night. She wasn’t there.”
“I saw her. I know she had something to do with it, Jessica. I can’t prove it yet, but God help me, I will.” She crossed her arms. “You have your bad feelings, I have mine. What’s harder to believe, anyway? That a girl who hates me killed my mom, or that my mom was killed over some make-believe secret power?”
Jessica tapped her index finger on the desk, bouncing it up and down over and over and over again in quick, even bursts. Then she stopped. “Maybe there’s a way for both of us to confirm our suspicions.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“I didn’t finish telling you about the Plotinus Ability.”
“Does it really matter? You said they gave it to Michelle.”
Jessica shook her head. “No. I said that Michelle volunteered.”
Gretchen arched an eyebrow. “But they didn’t give it to her?”
“Nope. They gave it to me.”
Gretchen paced back and forth in her room, tears stinging her eyes as she replayed the fight in her head. She’d kicked Jessica out, told her she couldn’t handle this right now—couldn’t handle her right now. And of course Jessica had cried. Gretchen, you don’t understand. I just want to help you.
Well, boo-freaking-hoo, Gretchen thought, continuing the argument in her mind. You ignore me for weeks and then come in here with this crazy story about trading souls and my mother kissing Tina Holt, and now suddenly you’re the one who’s next in line? On the other hand, she could see why Jessica would want to believe all this BS. She’d be the most powerful person in the whole Oculus Society now. She was drunk with her own power. So drunk she actually believed she could become someone else.
Gretchen snatched up the papers that Jessica had left on her desk.
Please, just read them, she’d begged after Gretchen had told her to get out.
Oh, I’ll read them, all right. I’ll read them and tell everyone how crazy you all are for buying into this crap.
Suddenly, Gretchen didn’t care if she never set foot in the Oculus Society ever again. It was as if she were seeing the whole thing for the very first time—an exclusionary, petty, power-hungry group of multi-generational social climbers—who had been completely deluded into thinking they’re not only better than everyone else, but super human to boot. No wonder Ariel Miller hated them all so much.
Gretchen angrily flipped the pages, skimming through the paragraphs.
According to Plotinus’s diary, he and his partner, Gemina, chose Gemina’s closest friend, Amphiclea, to witness them trade souls. Plotinus was adamant about the existence of a witness. In his opinion, the witness was the most crucial part of the exchange, because only the witness knew that the partners had projected into each other’s bodies. If something were to happen to either of the partners, th
en it was the witness’s responsibility to come forward …
They want you to be the witness, Jessica had pleaded. You’d still be a part of it.
Yeah, Gretchen had responded. I’m sure you’d love that, too; having me on the sidelines while you get to be the big star. She went back to the paper.
Further, Plotinus referenced an amber amulet that was worn by Amphiclea in her role as witness. It is unknown whether the amulet had powers that facilitated the exchange, or whether it was merely a ritualistic symbol, but his diary states, “She who wears the anklet shall know the truth.”
Gretchen felt like she’d been punched in the stomach. The papers fell from her hands, floating in and out and landing softly at her feet, like gentle waves lapping against a dock. The anger she’d been feeling toward Jessica evaporated.
She picked up her phone and frantically dialed Jessica’s number.
“Hi,” Jessica answered. Her voice sounded guarded and hurt.
“She wore an anklet,” Gretchen blurted out. “My mother was wearing an anklet the night she was murdered. It had an amber stone on it.”
“I know,” Jessica said. “I saw it at graduation. That’s why I wanted you to read the papers.”
“No, you don’t understand. When she was in the bedroom … afterwards … the anklet was gone.”
Jessica didn’t say anything.
“Jess? Are you there?”
“Oh, my God,” Jessica finally whispered. “Do you think someone killed her to get the anklet?”
Gretchen gripped the phone. “I think they might have. I mean, I thought it was just lost, but then my dad came around the other night asking me if I’d seen it.”
“Your dad! Do you think he knew about the Plotinus Ability?”
“No,” Gretchen said firmly. “My mom took the Oculus Society too seriously. If what you’re saying is true, if she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, then she wouldn’t have. Not even him.” She paused as tears sprang to her eyes. “Not even me, either.”
“Then why was he asking about the anklet?”
“I don’t know,” Gretchen admitted. “But if it’s true that the anklet had some sort of power or special significance, then somebody might have wanted it badly enough to kill her for it.”
“Yeah, somebody named Michelle.”
Neither of them said anything as they thought through the implications of all of this.
“Do you believe me now?” Jessica asked.
Gretchen sighed. She could almost see the shimmering amber around her mother’s ankle, could almost hear her mother’s voice. Things are going to start happening. Things you can’t even imagine. Her mother wasn’t crazy; that much Gretchen knew for sure.
“I’m sorry,” Gretchen answered, purposely avoiding the question. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”
“It’s okay. I’m sorry for springing it all on you like that.”
“You said you had an idea,” Gretchen reminded her. “Something about how we could both confirm our suspicions.”
“Yeah. I was thinking, the board told me that I don’t have to make any decisions yet. They said there was something they needed to take care of before I could officially begin. Something they needed in order for the ritual to be complete. I’ll bet you they’re looking for the anklet. I’ll bet you they called your dad to ask him if he had it.”
“That would make sense. Especially if it’s the key to trading souls. If the anklet has the power, then you wouldn’t be able to do it without it.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” Jessica said. “What if it’s like the articles say—just a ritualistic symbol?”
“What does it matter? Either way, you need the anklet to trade souls.”
“No, that’s the thing,” Jessica said. “If it’s just a symbol, then you don’t need it. You can do it without it.”
“What are you saying, Jess?”
“I’m saying: We need to gather as much information as possible. Gretchen, you know things that I don’t know about your mother, things maybe even only you and the killer know. Michelle would never mention those things to you. But if she thought you were me … I’m saying we trade souls without a witness. And that way, I can find out things about Ariel that she’d never say to you. If it turns out Michelle wasn’t involved, no harm no foul. Same for Ariel.”
Gretchen frowned. She was a rule follower, and the quality she most hated and also most admired in Jessica was the ease with which she ignored rules.
“Jess, the papers say that Plotinus thought the witness was the most crucial part of the exchange, and now you’re saying we should just skip the whole witness thing. Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I think that in ancient Rome it probably was crucial to have a witness, because if a woman got caught snooping around where she wasn’t supposed to be, she could get her head cut off or something. But seriously, what could happen to us? So we snoop around a little and pretend to be each other. Who cares?”
“I don’t know,” Gretchen hedged. “And anyway, do you even know how to do it? It can’t be as simple as just kissing. People kiss all the time, and they don’t open their eyes and find that they’re in the other person’s body. Even if it’s not the anklet, there has to be something that makes it happen.”
“Let me worry about that,” Jessica answered. “I just need to know if you’re on board.”
Gretchen paused to think it over. All she wanted was to solve her mother’s murder and to have Jessica on her side to help her do it. If that meant she had to kiss Jessica in some weird, Oculus Society ritual, then so be it. “All right.” She sighed. “I’m in. What do we need to do?”
“I’ll need a couple of days to get everything together,” Jessica said. “And we can’t do it at either of our houses. It’s got to be somewhere totally private. Remember, we have to kiss. If anyone saw us …”
“So where, then?”
Jessica didn’t answer right away. “I know,” she said finally. “There’s a park I used to go to when I was little. It has a sandbox and a giant pirate ship. Did you ever go there?”
“Yeah, of course. But that’s totally out in the open.”
“I know, but there’s that play structure there. It’s like a teepee, and you can go inside of it. I used to play in there and pretend I was Pocahontas.”
“I know what you’re talking about. But is it enclosed?”
“Mostly. There’s an opening on one side where you enter, but the rest of it is solid. If we go there at night, when it’s dark, nobody will ever find us. It’s the perfect spot.”
“Okay then,” Gretchen agreed. “Should we say Friday night? Is that enough time?”
“Yeah, that should be good. It gets dark a little before nine, so let’s plan to meet there at nine fifteen. And Gretch, you should really read all of the papers I left you,” she suggested. “I think it will help you understand things a little bit better.”
“I will,” Gretchen promised. She let out a quick laugh. “It’s ironic, though, that you’re telling me to read something.”
“I know,” Jessica laughed. “I don’t think I’ve read that much since the time I found Michelle’s diary.”
“So I guess I’ll see you on Friday, then.”
“It’s a date. I mean … you know what I mean.”
Gretchen laughed. She couldn’t help herself. It felt good.
“Oh, and Gretch, do me a favor? Don’t eat any raw onions that day.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Gretchen awoke on Friday morning with an anxious pit in her stomach. She and Jessica hadn’t even spoken since their phone call the other day, and Gretchen was feeling more confused than ever. Of course, she knew it couldn’t be real. Just because the people in the Oculus Society thought it was real didn’t make it real. She just couldn’t imagine how her mom would have bought into this nonsense, even going so far as to wear the anklet. Was she just humoring Tina Holt, the way Gretchen was humoring Jessica? Or did she really believe
it? Certainly her mom was no fool. She would have needed proof. She would have needed to have seen it for herself … Gretchen couldn’t help opening that door the tiniest bit and letting just the slightest crack of light shine on the idea that it might—somehow, impossibly—be true.
She took out the folded Wikipedia printout that Jessica had left with her and read it again for the hundredth time.
Plotinus wrote in his diary that he was going to attempt to trade souls with his disciple, Gemina. However, his writings ended abruptly just a few days after that mention of her. Some of Plotinus’s more fervent believers have theorized that this is because the two were successful and that Plotinus stopped detailing his activities out of caution. However, most respected scholars believe that Plotinus simply lost interest in philosophy because he and Gemina failed to achieve their goal of dual-projection. More recently, upon further examination of Plotinus’s early life, many have also concluded that Plotinus may have been exhibiting signs of schizophrenia.
Gretchen stopped reading. No. It was ridiculous. This nonsense about The One and being able to project your soul were obviously just the ravings of a lunatic. She was tempted to call Jessica to tell her to forget the whole thing. And she would have, if it weren’t for that stupid anklet. Because no matter how many different ways she tried to spin it, the anklet proved one thing that she couldn’t deny: that her mother obviously believed in this stuff, or pretended to, anyway. Gretchen couldn’t help feeling that she’d be disloyal to her mom if she didn’t at least give it a chance.
Besides, Jessica was right. If people really believed that the anklet was the key, then, for the first time, they would have a real motive for why someone might have wanted to kill her mom. But unlike Jessica, Gretchen wasn’t convinced that Michelle was the culprit.
In the days since Jessica had filled her in on the true nature of the Oculus Society, Gretchen’s suspicions about Ariel Miller had only grown. What if, Gretchen wondered, Ariel somehow knew about the Oculus Society’s secret? What if Ariel was secretly trying to destroy the Oculus Society? What if she knew about the anklet and wanted it to start a society of her own? Gretchen realized that a murderous plot of this magnitude would be a lot for a thirteen-year-old girl to carry out. Then again, thirteen-year-olds were capable of all sorts of terrible things. What about the thirteen-year-old who was caught trying to blow up a school bus filled with the kids who bullied him on a daily basis? Ariel was miserable about her social status at Delphi. As ridiculous as it might seem for Ariel to have committed a murder, Gretchen wouldn’t put it past her.