by Lisa Roecker
“Arghshshmp!” I had no idea what Seth was trying to say, but context clues and extensive experience translating Seth’s food-garbled sentences led me to believe it was probably something along the lines of, “Get your ass up here.”
I climbed up the spindly wooden ladder, careful to avoid the rough spots of wood that had given me splinters in the past. In spite of my best efforts to resist Seth’s tree house invitations, I almost always caved. He loved that damn thing too much for me to avoid it entirely.
“So, I need your help…” I paused midsentence as soon as I realized Seth wasn’t alone. Maddie Green was sitting next to him. I was happy to see her. Well, happy-ish. She’d been avoiding me since I’d slighted her in the hallway. Or maybe we’d been avoiding each other. We were best friends once. A million years ago.
“Oh, gosh, um, I didn’t realize you had company.”
Was this like a date? Were Maddie and Seth dating? The tips of Seth’s ears were on fire and Maddie wouldn’t look me in the eye, but neither of those things was even remotely out of the ordinary. “I’ll, um, I’ll just come back at a better time.”
“No, stay. It’s fine. I was just leaving.” Maddie stood up, but Seth shook his head at her.
“Anything you wanna ask me, you can ask in front of Maddie.” There was something new in his voice. Pride? Lust? Love? I couldn’t really be sure what it was, but it evoked the tiniest pinprick of jealousy in my heart. I was the one Seth always had a crush on. Me. It felt like I’d been replaced, and I kind of hated it.
Maddie sat back down and I was forced to start talking. “I need some help finding information about this boy who died. It’s really important.”
Maddie sighed dramatically. “I don’t mean to butt in…” As soon as she began talking, I knew I wasn’t going to like what she was going to say. In fact, I was pretty sure I was going to hate it. “But this stuff?” She gestured at the paper from Bradley that was crumpled in my hands. “It’s not healthy. I know you want to help, Seth, but you have to stop. You’re enabling her. You’re helping her to dwell on a situation that is done, over.”
I opened my mouth to remind Maddie that it was rude to talk about people as though they weren’t standing right in front of you, but she got to her feet before I could say anything. Maddie closed the space between us and rested her hands on my shoulders. “You have to move on, Kate. Let the police do their jobs. Let all the anger and the grief go.” She looked away, eyes shiny. “We’re never going to stop missing her, but she wouldn’t want you obsessing about all of this stuff.”
She turned then, her shoulders slouched, waiting for me to answer or for the tears to pass or for something I couldn’t give her. And then she finally gave up and made her way down the ladder. I let her go. What a bunch of bullshit. Maddie just didn’t love Grace the way I loved her. She didn’t understand how important it was to stop this from ever happening again. She didn’t know that Alistair’s death was just history repeating itself. She didn’t know anything.
I looked at Seth. He was torn. I could see it in his face. New girlfriend or old crush. Your call, buddy. I wondered if he was going to make good on the promise that he’d made to me in front of my garage all those years ago.
“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll see what I can do.” He snatched the paper out of my hand.
The smile came fast and big. “Oh God, Seth, thank you. Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how important this…” He cut me off by raising one of his hands in the air. I stopped talking more out of shock than anything else. Seth had never cut me off before today. Not ever.
“You have to promise me that this is it, Kate. That once the Sisterhood is over and things settle down with Alistair, that you’ll stop.”
He had his hand on his hip like he meant business, and I knew better than to argue with him when he was in business mode. I nodded.
“Oh and Kate, just so you know, someone put something in your mailbox like ten minutes before you got back from the funeral. It was weird. They pulled out super fast. Just thought…well, I don’t know. It was weird.”
I started back down the ladder before Seth even finished his sentence. My house. My mailbox. My ears were buzzing, my entire body shaking with adrenaline. Something was in my mailbox.
When I pulled open the black tin mailbox at the edge of my driveway, I was sure that I’d see the same thick envelope that Alistair had gotten a few days ago. I could practically feel the card stock between my fingers. But instead, there was a neatly folded sheet of notebook paper lined with bright orange words written in loopy handwriting that I recognized almost instantly. Handwriting that had me falling back, back, back to the time of bike rides to Dairy Queen with pockets full of change we’d stolen from my parents’ jar, poolside in bikinis, the waxy taste of Super Ropes licorice in my mouth. Back to boy bands and coordinated dance routines and outrageous makeovers during an endless cycle of summertime sleepovers.
Back to Grace.
Chapter 11
From Grace Lee’s Journal—September 9
Something came for me today. An invitation. As soon as I saw that it was addressed with my full name, I knew that it was going to change my life.
Grace Ai-mu Lee.
No one knows my middle name. Not even Kate. I told her and Maddie it was Anne. Cameron was there when I got it. Not sure if he saw it or not. Hopefully he at least missed my middle name.
The invitation told me to wait. To tell no one. To find some special seal in the woods Friday during the Spiritus bonfire.
But I’ve never been very patient, and the seal was just begging to be found. I ditched the girls, although they didn’t seem to really care. Honestly, they both seemed a little distracted. Part of me expected to see Kate at the seal waiting for me with an invitation in hand. We both love a good mystery.
But when I finally found the seal at Station 11, the old chapel, it was just me. I’d never noticed the bronze plaque on the ground before. Dirt and leaves partially hid the antique-looking symbol. I have no idea how I missed it.
The crest looks almost identical to our school’s except for the S at the center and a different motto below. Audi, Vide, Tace. “Hear, See, Be Silent.”
I still can’t believe that I saw it. I can’t believe that it’s real. The Sisterhood is real.
I had a favorite babysitter when I was little. Sarah Hartwell. I loved when she came, all blond hair and perfect makeup, dressed in pretty clothes like she was going to a party instead of babysitting for a loser nine-year-old. She’d bring magazines I was never allowed to look at and teach me how to put on makeup or talk to boys.
I never wanted to go to bed, and she’d let me stay up until my eyelids weighed a million pounds and were impossible to keep open. And when I lay in bed and begged to go back downstairs, she’d tell me stories. About a group of sisters who held the key to everything. They wore a special necklace and their only rule was to Hear, See, and Be Silent. She’d touch her finger to her lips as she said it. I remember her sparkly nail polish catching the glow of my nightlight. Shhh.
But then she stopped coming. My mom found a new girl who was awful. She just talked on her phone all night and put me to bed early so she could watch trashy TV without me ratting her out to my parents. I begged for Sarah to come back but I was ignored as usual. Eventually I just stopped asking.
But this one day when I was shopping with my mom, I saw Sarah. She wore dark sunglasses and her hair looked dull and stringy, but I knew it was her. I rushed over to her right away and yanked on her blazer. She bent and pulled me in for a hug, and I noticed a dark scar that ran down one cheek. I knew enough not to stare and instead told her how much I missed her, how my new babysitter was mean, how I wanted to hear more stories.
“They’re dangerous. The stories are dangerous,” Sarah whispered.
My mom dragged me away without letting me say good-bye. I saw her eyeing Sara
h’s scar, but she didn’t ask her about it. Part of me thought that had to be worse than people just asking the questions. The noticing and then the silence. If it were me, I’d rather answer their dumb questions. Seems like it would be better than letting them guess.
Anyway, I never saw Sarah again. Honestly, this is the first time I’ve thought of her in years. But I know there’s something dangerous about these words.
Audi.
Vide.
Tace.
I need a plan.
Chapter 12
The muscles in my legs gave out and I let myself sink into the mound of dirt surrounding our mailbox, last year’s mulch biting into my knees through my black pants.
Reading those words in her barely legible handwriting with the orange pen she never went anywhere without was like talking to Grace. The real Grace. Not the Grace everyone remembered. Not even the Grace I remembered. There was no silk screen hiding her flaws or opinions or all the stuff that made Grace, Grace. I couldn’t believe that I’d forgotten how awful her spelling and grammar were. Or the way she obsessed about her stupid babysitters and tried to memorize everything about them that made them cool. I couldn’t believe she’d lied to me about her middle name.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. Reading her words in her handwriting the same day we buried another Pemberly Brown student felt exactly like the time Naomi Farrow aced a tennis serve straight into my stomach. It took my breath away and left only raw pain in its place. I couldn’t help but hunch over.
I wished I could call Maddie back, tell her how sorry I was, let her read, let her in, but she was already gone.
“Kate! Kate! Are you okay?” Seth shimmied down his tree-house ladder in record time and stood over me all wide eyed and worried.
“I’m fine. I just need information about the boy. That’s it. Can you help? Please?” The tears shining in my eyes must have worked in my favor, because within seconds, Seth was sprinting into his house to get his laptop, squealing promises about online databases and friends from his weird online conspiracy club.
I started picking at the grass by my feet, just to give myself something to do. Something to focus on. I wanted to read Grace’s journal entry again more than anything, but I was a little afraid that if I read it again, there would be something else in there. Something I’d missed the first time. I wasn’t sure I was ready for any more of Grace’s secrets right then.
And then his voice.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” It was Liam. I recognized his beat-up Converse, the pleading in his voice.
Go away. Go away. Go away.
Every piece of grass I plucked from the ground was a wish. I wanted him to disappear. Even though he was still over three feet away from me, the scent of him met me—laundry detergent, a bar of soap, his cologne that had all but worn off.
“Can we talk?”
I didn’t look up when he spoke the words. I couldn’t stop smelling him, but that didn’t mean I had to look at him. Because I knew that if I looked at him, I’d cry. Or cave. I’d want to give up everything and just be his. “There’s nothing going on with me and Bradley, okay? I’m just trying to be there for him. It’s fine. Really.”
“It’s not, though. I don’t…I just…you worry me, Kate. God, is it so awful that I care about you? That I want you to be safe?” He was pulling at his hair again, and I shifted my attention back to my patch of grass. “If you would just let me help…”
Every muscle in my body tensed. God, sometimes his incessant desire to fix everything was exhausting. Liam never just let me be sad. He never let me make mistakes. He’s a fixer. And I’m a breaker. No wonder we never worked out.
“I just need to be alone.” It was such a stupid thing to say, didn’t really mean anything, but I didn’t know what else to tell him. I needed him to leave if I was ever going to fix anything else. Liam cared too much; he was too close. It was one or the other. I couldn’t have both. And I’d made my choice.
“But…”
I choked on the tears. “Please.”
I didn’t look up to watch him walk away, but I heard his footsteps on the driveway and eventually the engine of his Jeep turning over in the street.
It was better this way. It really was. I needed to let him go.
As usual, Seth was heard before he was seen.
“Holy crap. Holy crap. Holy crap.” I heard him chanting the words as he raced down the stairs inside his house, flung open the screen door, and sprinted toward my post at the mailbox, his laptop tucked beneath his arm.
Sweat was dripping down the sides of his face, and there was still a tiny smear of Cheetos remnants on his chin. I tried to ignore both of those things and focus on what a great friend Seth was, but I had to admit the Cheetos shrapnel was a tiny bit distracting.
Seth stared at me and wheezed for a second.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah…just….” He wheezed some more.
“Do you have more information on the boy?”
“Yes.” Wheeze. “That’s.” Wheeze. “Why.” Wheeze. “Running.” Wheeze.
“Seth, seriously…are you okay?” Now that I was looking at Seth closer, he seemed pale. Maybe this was more than just him being out of shape. “Let me go get your mom.” I hated to involve Mrs. Allen, particularly when Seth had information on the death, but the last thing I needed was another tragedy on my conscience.
“No!” Seth sucked in some more air and the color started to come back to his cheeks. “I mean, no thanks. I’m fine. Really. It’s just…” He opened his computer. “You’re not going to believe this.”
There was an article from an old newspaper on the screen, and this time there was a picture of two boys.
A local boy was struck and killed by an oncoming train near the Arthur Road tracks early Saturday morning. Andrew Carrington was 16 years old and was first thought to be half brother Richard Sinclair because he was carrying his wallet and identification. The mistaken identity was quickly sorted out by local police when Sinclair arrived at the police station with his parents. Carrington’s death has been ruled an accident.
I stared for a moment at the blurry photograph next to the article. Wrinkle-free beady eyes and smooth cheeks, but the same air of asshole surrounded the guy in the picture, even at the tender age of seventeen.
“Headmaster Sinclair?” The computer shook a little in my hands.
“Headmaster Sinclair.” Seth nodded.
I lowered myself onto the soft, green grass and stared up at the late afternoon sky, twisting Grace’s pearls between my fingers.
Oh, Grace, Grace. What does all of this mean? Why is an antiquated Sacramentum suddenly starting again more than fifty years after it killed our ex-headmaster’s younger brother? Is he somehow involved in all of this? Has he gone off the deep end since being demoted to security guard after the Brotherhood was destroyed? And who the hell is sending me your old journal entries and why? I silently sent my questions up, up, up into the sky.
I had gotten over my habit of sending Grace daily emails, but that didn’t mean I had given up hope on my dead best friend. Sometimes I pretended that if I could just ask the right question, she’d find me the right answer. But so far I was shit out of luck, and today was no different. The only response was the soft thump of Seth’s head hitting the grass just inches from my own.
“What’s going on, Kate? Whatever it is, you’ve gotta let me help.” His hand inched closer to mine, and six months ago, I would have been totally grossed out, but this was Seth. My best friend. Besides, he hadn’t tried to kiss me for at least two months, and now that I’d seen him with Maddie, I was beginning to understand why. So when his hand grabbed mine, I knew that it was an offer of friendship. Pure. Simple. No strings attached.
“You’ve already helped more than you know.” I squeezed his hand lightly.
I did want his
help. I wanted it so badly. But I wasn’t sure what to even ask him for just yet. I needed more time to get my head around this entire situation. Everything was happening too fast. I needed time to process.
We lay there for a while watching puffy clouds shift and morph in the huge Ohio sky. And for a minute, I closed my eyes and tried to follow Dr. Prozac’s advice to just let myself live in the moment, to let myself experience the present instead of constantly getting dragged back into the hellish fires of my past. But Grace’s words were like lead in my pocket, pulling me back toward her, back toward the truth. No matter how hard I tried to move on, she was there. And now she’d been joined by Alistair, another casualty in the silent war that raged beneath Pemberly Brown.
By the time I sat up, the sun had moved behind a cloud, and Seth was snoring softly next to me. I had to keep moving. I had to take action. My present, my now, was haunted, and I owed it to myself to put my ghosts to rest once and for all.
Chapter 13
I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. There were only so many combinations of words I could plug into Google involving Sinclair’s name and his sordid past. I’d read all the articles, examined all the pictures, saved all the information. It was dark. It was late. I’d have to wait.
So I paced. And my parents yelled at me to turn off the light. To sleep. They might as well have screamed at me to be normal. So I did what any other normal teenager with faded blue hair would do when there was entirely too much night left.
I decided to go red. Blood red. The color of revenge.
As I rinsed my hair, the water a watery pink and the strands bright between my fingertips, I felt whole again, completed by the promise of tomorrow, of uncovering new information with a new look. The shock of it all only added to the fire I felt in my gut.