by Julia Nobel
Emmy’s face felt suddenly hot. She shrugged. Lola’s face looked like it would burst with anger and joy all at the same time.
“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with the rest of the team?” Emmy asked.
Lola smirked. “It was a short meeting; the captain’s right behind me.”
A tall sixth year named Manuela was walking toward them with a grin plastered on her face.
“It’s Willick, right?” she asked.
Emmy nodded.
“Good. Hope you like playing striker, ’cause you’re starting our next match.”
Emmy’s mouth fell open. “I thought…I thought you were just looking for a benchwarmer.”
“Something tells me you don’t spend a lot of time on the bench,” Manuela said with a wry smile.
“But—”
“We’ll have practices every day this week to break you in,” Manuela went on. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, right?”
“Uh, right.”
Manuela grinned and walked away. Emmy’s stomach jumped in a hundred directions. Being chosen was a huge honor, but it also scared her half to death. She’d have to face some really tough teams, and playing striker automatically made you a leader—and a target.
Lola put her arm round Emmy and dragged her away from the pitch. “Come on, let’s go celebrate.”
Emmy felt light-headed. Striker? “I didn’t think I’d be starting,” she said.
“Would you rather sit on the bench and watch?”
“No!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Uh…” What could she say? Well my mom forbade me from playing, but I tried out anyway. Sorry I totally screwed up your whole team.
Emmy could see the look on her mother’s face if she ever found out. She’d be furious…livid…hurt. She’d be crushed if she knew Emmy was lying to her. But not playing soccer…that hurt, too. And if her mother didn’t care what Emmy wanted, why should she care what her mom wanted?
“No,” Emmy said, “there’s no problem.” What her mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
CHAPTER 11
The Field Trip
The day after soccer tryouts, Emmy saw her mom’s number appear on her phone. She winced and pressed the green button with a shaking finger. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, darling. How are you?”
Emmy swallowed. She didn’t want her voice to crack. “I’m good.”
“How were your first few days of new classes?”
“Good. I still have humanities from last semester, that one runs all year, and I moved into second-year Latin.”
“I’m so proud of you, honey. It seems like you’re doing so well at school!”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“It’s a good thing you haven’t had any distractions at Wellsworth. I think that’s made a really big difference.”
Emmy’s cheeks felt hot. Please don’t ask about after-school stuff, please don’t ask about after-school stuff!
“Are you still going to that Latin club?”
“Uh, yep.” She shuffled her feet. They were getting dangerously close to talking about soccer. “So, Mom, how’s the TV show going?”
Her mom sighed. “Oh, well, it’s fine, I guess. Lots of long days. I think they picked the most difficult people because they’d be the most entertaining.” Her mom laughed, but it seemed to get caught in her throat. “Anyway, I have to run. I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”
“Thanks.” She paused. “I mean it, Mom. Thanks for calling.”
“I love you, Em.”
“I love you, too.”
The next day, Emmy found a crowd of people standing outside her humanities class. Lola tried the door; it was locked.
“Maybe Barlowe is sick,” Jack said.
“Let’s hope so,” Victoria said, and Arabella squealed with laughter.
“No such luck, Miss Stuart-Bevington.”
Arabella smothered her mouth and Emmy grinned. Master Barlowe had arrived.
“Time for a field trip!” he announced.
A few people groaned.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going far,” Barlowe said. “There’s something on the other side of the grounds we need to see.”
Victoria raised her hand. “Sir, I didn’t wear walking shoes today, so I don’t think I can—”
“Any shoes that conform to our school’s uniform code should provide ample support for a walk of this nature,” Barlowe said brightly.
Emmy smirked. Victoria’s flimsy little slippers were definitely not uniform code.
Barlowe led them through the winding humanities hallways and out a little door Emmy had never seen before. They trudged along an overgrown path, past the old chapter house, past the headmaster’s home, and past the teachers’ housing. The path rose steadily, and Victoria moaned the whole way.
“Bet you wish you had my football cleats now,” Emmy whispered.
Victoria glared at her. Emmy’s soccer skills had been a blow to Victoria, and Emmy tried not to rub it in…too much.
“Master Barlowe,” said Jaya, “where exactly are we going?”
“The Parish Church of Saint Felix,” he said. “Otherwise known as our round-tower church.”
“What’s that?” Emmy asked.
“Round-tower churches were mostly built by the Normans and Anglo-Saxons,” Barlowe explained. “This one is Anglo-Saxon, which makes it extremely old. They used the only stone they could find: flint. Flint isn’t strong enough to build square corners, so the Saxons and Normans built round bell towers rather than having expensive stone blocks shipped in. You can still find round-tower churches all over Norfolk.”
“Are we still in Norfolk, then?” Victoria muttered as she teetered behind the group. “I thought we must be halfway to Newcastle by now.”
The path was getting steeper and sandier. The closer she got to the top of the hill, the more the wind whipped at Emmy’s face.
Barlowe was the first to get to the top. “There.” He pointed to something in the distance, and Emmy scrabbled up behind him. The church looked too narrow to stand up. Bits of stone lay here and there, like it had been flaking off for a long, lonely time. Its roof was made of some kind of black straw and was so steep it looked like it should slide right off the nearby cliffs that tumbled into the North Sea. Looming above it was a skinny round tower, its bell tinkling faintly in the breeze.
“Is it safe to go inside?” Emmy asked.
“Oh yes,” Barlowe said, “it’s perfectly safe. It might not be much to look at, but it is meticulously maintained.”
“Are you sure?” Victoria asked. She was still huffing and puffing her way up the hill.
Barlowe smiled. “Positive.”
Crumbling tombstones leaned into the path. They were overgrown with snaking yellow grass that licked at Emmy’s ankles and made her shiver. This place was eerie.
Barlowe stopped in the arched entryway and waited for everyone to catch up. “Before we go in, let me remind you that this building and all its contents are irreplaceable. It has stood for over a thousand years, withstanding gales, plagues, and wars. I don’t want to tell the headmaster that a third-year humanities class was able to bring it down. It is a sacred place. You will respect that.
“You may spend the rest of this class looking around and asking me whatever questions you like. I expect a full report on my desk by Thursday afternoon.”
The inside wasn’t at all what Emmy had imagined. Instead of dark, crumbling stone, the walls were covered in bright white plaster that reflected light and shadows from long arched windows. She crouched next to a wide stone bowl. “What’s this?”
“It’s called a font,” Barlowe said. “It’s used for baptisms.”
Emmy ran her hands along the sides. There were figures
carved into the stone, but their faces were missing, like someone had taken a hammer to them. “What happened to the faces?”
“That font was built by medieval Catholics,” Barlowe said. “The figures were destroyed by people trying to wipe Catholicism out of existence. People were using religion to gain power—it was an ugly time in our history.”
“I’m glad that’s over with,” Emmy muttered.
Barlowe looked at Emmy with a rueful smile. “There will always be people who crave power, Miss Willick. And people who will go to any lengths to hold on to it.” He motioned to the far side of the church. “There are a few relics and artifacts in a glass case on the north side of the church—and don’t forget to look around the belfry. There are stairs on the inside that go all the way to the top, but they’re closed off, so your best view will be from outside.”
Emmy wandered up the aisle and ran her hand along the old wooden benches. A thousand years old. How many people had been to services here? How many weddings had been performed? How many funerals?
“A bit creepy in here, don’t you think?” Lola whispered.
Emmy nodded. “But it’s kind of peaceful, too.”
Jack was standing at a glass display case, staring at all the artifacts. Emmy peered inside. Some of the objects were so old she didn’t even know what they were. She was about to walk away when she saw an old letter at the very end of the case. She looked closely at the smudged writing. Maybe it was sent by a king or some other powerful figure.
Then she saw the signature. An icy chill inched down her spine, freezing her to the stone floor.
“What are you looking at?” Lola asked.
Emmy didn’t say anything. She couldn’t say anything.
“Hey, what’s up with you?” Lola said.
“Master Barlowe,” Emmy finally said, “why is this letter here?” Her voice sounded strange to her, like someone was grasping at her throat.
“It was found during an early twentieth-century restoration,” Barlowe explained. “It’s dated 1808, so the school wanted to preserve it.”
“And the signature,” she said, “does anyone know who that is?”
Barlowe looked at it and waved his hand dismissively. “Just a random student or teacher, I’m sure. Now, have a look at this copper shard.” He steered everyone to the other side of the display case. “It’s from an Anglo-Saxon shield…”
Emmy stopped listening. There was nothing random about this signature. She’d seen it before.
“Why do you keep staring at that old letter?” Lola hissed.
“Look at the signature,” Emmy whispered.
Lola and Jack leaned in closer. Stamped under the signature was a skull with a cross on the right and a dagger on the left.
“Must have belonged to someone in the Order,” Jack whispered.
“Okay, fine,” Lola said, “who cares—”
“Not the symbol. The name.”
At the bottom, just above the skull, the letter was signed, “Your Brother Loyola.”
CHAPTER 12
Brother Loyola
“Miss Willick?”
Emmy jumped.
“Miss Willick, are you all right?” Master Barlowe was staring at her like she was about to be sick. She was about to be sick. The room was spinning, and her stomach lurched like she had run too many wind sprints. Barlowe looked at the signature and something in his expression changed. As if he knew—really knew—what she was looking at. He glanced back at Emmy and the strange expression was gone. Maybe she’d just imagined it.
“Perhaps you should go to the medical center.”
“No,” Emmy said, “I think I just need to lie down.”
“Very well, but take Ms. Boyd and Mr. Galt with you in case you need some assistance.”
Emmy stumbled to the door and took a deep breath of salty air. Just get back to Audrey House. One foot in front of the other.
The common room was empty when they got there; most classes were still in session. Emmy sat on the edge of the nearest chair and rubbed her face.
“Do you want some water or something?” Jack asked.
Emmy shook her head. She just needed to think. Two letters. Both written in different centuries. “How can those two letters have the same signature?”
“Maybe that letter in the church was written by a relative,” Lola suggested. “Maybe the name runs in your family.”
“Maybe,” Emmy said.
“You really don’t know anything about your dad’s family?”
“Nothing,” Emmy said. “I’d never even seen anything that belonged to him until I found this box in the attic.”
“What kind of box?” Jack asked.
Emmy bit her lip. She hadn’t shown anyone the box. That first letter she’d gotten had said to keep it safe. But Jack and Lola had accepted her in a way no one else ever had. If it wasn’t safe with them, it wasn’t safe with anyone.
“Come on.”
They followed her up the stairs. Even Jack didn’t hesitate to go into her room this time. He must have known how important this was to Emmy. She reached past the dust bunnies and old socks under her bed, pulled out the box, and put it on the table. She opened the lid and started arranging the medallions.
Lola whistled. “When you said you found a box in your attic, this wasn’t exactly what I’d pictured.”
“Do you know what those things are for?” Jack asked.
Emmy shook her head and started moving the medallions around. “I thought they might be some kind of puzzle, but I can’t figure out how they fit together.”
Lola leaned over the table and scrunched up her forehead. She moved a few pieces around and finally put two together. “These ones have matching lines. You see that?” She pointed to a place where the lines seemed to meet. “Almost like the hilt of a knife.”
Emmy looked closer. She’d seen a hilt like that before.
“This might be the blade of the knife.” Jack added another piece on top.
Emmy’s stomach dropped. It wasn’t just a knife. It was a dagger. She started pushing more pieces together, shuffling and reshuffling until an image started to form. She put the last two pieces in and fit them together like a cross. Instead of random medallions, they now made up a skull with a cross on the right and a dagger on the left.
The symbol for the Order of Black Hollow Lane.
“These were your dad’s?” Jack finally asked. He sounded like someone was pinching his windpipe.
Emmy nodded.
“Then he must have been a student here,” Jack said. “And he must have been a member of the Order.”
Emmy sat down on the edge of the bed. Her dad was part of the Order of Black Hollow Lane…just like Jack’s dad. “Hey, do you think your dad knew my dad? If they were both part of the Order, maybe—”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to let anyone know your dad was part of the Order. You’re not even supposed to know it exists. Besides, my dad wouldn’t talk about it anyway. Membership is a supposed to be a secret, and he’d flip if I started asking questions.”
“Do you know who Brother Loyola is?” Emmy asked.
“Not a clue.” Jack picked up one of the medallions. “So, I guess if your dad went to Wellsworth, that explains why your mom sent you here.”
“I guess so. I wish I could ask her more about it, but she freaks out any time I bring up my dad. It’s like she doesn’t even want to remember him.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t have even found this box if someone hadn’t sent me a letter telling me about it. I just wish I knew why.”
Lola flung herself back onto Victoria’s bed. “This guy’s starting to tick me off. Why all the secrets? Why not send these letters with a return address? Better yet, why doesn’t this mystery person just come right out and tell you stuff instead of just hinting at it all?”
&
nbsp; “Maybe it’s some kind of game,” Jack said.
Emmy’s jaw went tight. “Yeah, well, if it’s a game, it’s not much fun.”
Jack and Lola looked at her.
“I’m tired of playing guessing games about my dad. I want to know something real about him, and I want to know if he’s still…” Her voice cracked.
“…if he’s still alive?” Jack finished. Emmy nodded. The bell rang out across the school grounds.
“We’d better get to football practice,” Lola said. “Coach’ll kill us if we’re late.”
• • •
Emmy couldn’t focus at football practice, and she barely ate any supper. She couldn’t think about anything but her father, the box, and its connection to her school. His school.
Study session seemed to take forever that night. She read the same sentence over and over. “This is pointless,” she whispered to Jack and Lola. “I could be doing something useful right now.” She glanced at Madam Boyd, who was busy with another student, then quietly got out her laptop.
“What are you doing?” Jack whispered.
“I’m going to see if there are any lists of school alumni online.”
Jack shifted in his chair. “Uh, I don’t think that’s what Madam Boyd wants us to be working on right now.”
“If she asks, I’ll just say it’s for an assignment.”
Jack raised his eyebrows and Lola gave him a wry smile. “I think you’ve been a bad influence on her, Jack.”
“ME!?” Jack hissed. “You’re the one—”
“Oh, relax,” Lola said. “It’s no big deal if she misses one night of studying.”
But it wasn’t just one night. The next day Emmy skipped Latin Society so she could research online again. Soon she started wandering the school at random, missing tutorials and skipping society meetings. She lay awake at night, imagining her dad attending classes in the humanities wing or studying in the library. If she could just find something that connected him to Wellsworth, then she could focus on her schoolwork again.