The Third Lie's the Charm (11 page)

I
knew
something
weird
was
going
on
the
second
I
saw
the
chapel. It was just too quiet or something. According to my little invitation, I was like three days too early, but being fashionably late is for suckers. I needed to know what this place meant and who sent this invitation. I had to know if it was from the Sisterhood.

I
googled
the
crap
out
of
them
but
only
found
a
couple
of
mentions. They were some all-girls' secret society that was founded by the same frigid gals that were actually pissed when their all-girls' school went coed. For some reason, the idea of an all-girls' society made me think of girls getting in pillow fights wearing silk camisoles. Ew.

Honestly, I just kind of wanted to know what this whole thing was about. That way, I could just skip it the night of the bonfire if the girls looked like members of the Asian American Club that my parents kept trying to get me to join. The kids in that club weren't even all Asian. They were just all completely lame. I went to one meeting and literally tried to slit my wrists with a plastic ruler. So yeah, if this society bullshit was just a bunch of National Merit Scholars wearing robes and chanting weird stuff, I was so out.

But
that's not what it was.

First
off, there were guys there. Hot guys. Alistair Reynolds and Bradley Farrow. Kate and Maddie would have just about died if they saw them on their hands and knees by the seal. They were looking for something, but lucky for me, all that searching on all fours put them in prime ass-admiration view. I started to move in closer. Purely for research purposes. But then I felt a hand on my back.

I
would
have
screamed, but the girl was too fast for me. She already had her other hand over my mouth. Naomi Farrow. Bradley's sister. I almost ran away from her right then and there. I mean, obviously I shouldn't be there, lurking around. And she was more popular than me, so the ball was firmly in her court. Even worse, she was the best tennis player in our school, so I was pretty sure she was going to take this opportunity to spike that thing in my face.

But
that's not what happened. Not at all.

Naomi
asked
me
if
I
could
help
her
keep
a
secret. She asked for my help.

And
you
know
what? I'm in. All in. Because this invitation was so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. So much better than I thought. The Asian American Club can suck it, because after the bonfire, we're going to be ruling the whole freaking school.

It had been precisely four hours and forty-eight minutes since I'd read Grace's most recent words. As I sat beside Bradley after school on his so-soft-it-practically-swallowed-me-whole sectional, I couldn't stop picturing myself tackling his sister, Naomi, and tearing her hair out, chunk by chunk.

Can
you
keep
a
secret?

The Naomi in my head asked the same question over and over again. How dare she ask Grace to keep her secrets? How dare she pretend to be my friend?

It hadn't been easy convincing my parents to let me come over here, but in the end a school project and Dr. P.'s urging them to “give me the freedom to overcome my grief” had been enough to get me off lockdown. Bradley rambled on and on about protecting the Brotherhood and figuring out who was behind all of this.

And all I could see was Naomi whispering in Grace's ear. Naomi telling me about the Sisterhood for the first time. Naomi breaking the news about Liam and Bethany. Naomi throwing her arm around her brother.

Naomi.

I'd spent the day as a creeper, narrowing my eyes in her direction, assessing the dark waves that fell down her back and over her sparkling, golden eyes. Why would she do this to me? To Grace? Why lie? Now the only realization that came into crisp focus in my mind was that Naomi was involved in a way she could never admit.

“Right?” Bradley asked, his eyes full of hope.

Crap. I had no clue what the hell he'd even been talking about. “Um…yeah? I mean, yes, yeah!” Wow. Convincing.

Bradley deflated a little, so I blinked my eyes heavily and twisted my body in his direction. It was against pretty much everything I stood for, but I was desperate and I didn't want to hurt him. And I liked the way his hands felt in mine. This at least wasn't a lie. The way his fingers were calloused from holding a lacrosse stick, the surprising softness when his fingers linked with mine wasn't a lie. The energy that flowed up his hand and set my whole body on fire wasn't a lie either.

And then the image of Liam and Bethany making out popped into my head, and I tilted my head back in a silent invitation which he accepted. Greedily. But when his lips came down on mine, I only saw Liam. I only heard Naomi's whispered secrets. When I kissed him, it was a lie.

If only I was in the before-Grace. If I'd been my first-year self, that brown-haired girl with all four years at Pemberly Brown laid out before her like some sort of all-you-can-eat buffet, I'd have surely melted at the first touch of Bradley's soft lips. But the after-Grace Kate knew too much. In the after-Grace, I was kissing him so he wouldn't sense my feelings toward his sister and my complete lack of attention.

God, the after-Grace sucked on so many levels.

Bradley pulled away, concern lining his features. He fell back into the couch, resting his head on a cushion and tilting his chin toward the ceiling. “We'll fix this, right?”

Loaded question. I nodded my head because it's what he wanted me to do.

The silence that bounced between us felt like an opportunity. I jumped on it. “I need to get my phone. My mom read some article about another mom who had a list of cell phone rules for her son, and now she's full of regret and is randomly making up new rules like having my phone charge in their room at night. Um…no.” I shook my head, considering whether to continue. “So, I have to, like, check in. You know?” Bradley smiled, and my heart broke a little. He believed me. He believed all of my lies. And it felt like a knife in my chest.

I took the basement steps two at a time and slid into his foyer to get my phone from my book bag. Raising it to my ear, I mocked a call, peeking into the kitchen (no one), family room (empty), and finally standing before the open basement steps so Bradley would hear. “Hey, Mom.” I continued talking up the main stairwell, in search of a more private location, namely Naomi's bedroom, to tell my “mom” all about my day.

Please, dear God, let her room be empty.

“We got our tests back in Calc,” I said, tapping the door open with my foot. Soft gray walls, splashes of turquoise, dark floors, huge canopied bed, no Naomi.

I had seconds.

“Really well. I studied forever,” I continued as I scanned the contents on top of Naomi's desk. An open book, some pens, a calendar, a few papers. Nothing. “Next Wednesday, we'll review for midterms.” I rushed to the side of her bed. Phone charger (the Farrows must not have gotten the cell-phone Nazi mom memo). Notebook with mainly blank pages, a few random notes throughout, a thick, black pen tucked inside.
The
pen.

“Not well, she has to retake.” I stumbled over the made-up conversation, my voice hushed as I studied the pen. Returning to the book on Naomi's desk, I flipped to her marked page. Her bookmark was a piece of a paper.
The
paper. It was thick and expensive and identical to the paper used in the Brotherhood's Factum Virtutes.

I lowered my phone and snapped a quick picture of the stationery and pen. And then I saw his name. Porter Reynolds. “Study group starts on the sixteenth,” I mumbled, running my finger over the script. All day, Bradley had been asking and wondering and worrying about who was going to be targeted by the Brotherhood next.

On the desk, in perfect calligraphy scratched into creamy card stock, was the answer to the question bouncing around in my mind since I'd first laid eyes on the still body of ex-Headmaster Sinclair. It was so obvious, so clear, that I couldn't believe I'd missed it.

Porter Reynolds.

It wasn't exactly evidence that would stand up in court, but when I thought about it, it made a twisted sort of sense. Naomi with her secret for Grace. Naomi who had just spoken up at our most recent Sisterhood meeting, begging to join forces with the Brotherhood, begging for Conventus. Maybe she thought that hurting members of the Brotherhood would force the societies together. Force the Sisterhood to protect them, force them all to finally become one.

But the pictures from Naomi's room didn't lie. When I brought the evidence to Ms. D., she'd have no choice but to at least consider the possibility that one of her favorite students was an actual murderer.

I expected shouting; I expected the throwing of inanimate objects. I even expected tears.

What I did not expect was this: “Well, pack your bags. You're going to Camp Brown. You'll need a permission slip.” She let her voice trail off on the words “permission slip” as if she was already planning my itinerary.

“Um, I'm sorry. I must be missing something here, but I didn't apply for Camp Brown this year. Isn't it too late?”

Camp Brown was a nature preserve located three hours from Pemberly Brown and owned and operated by one of Pemberly Brown's most successful and most eccentric alumni, Siegfried Manchester. He'd purchased the land more than fifteen years ago, and he'd been hosting an outdoor adventure camp and leadership experience every spring break for the past five years. A group of students were selected each year to attend, and supposedly you had to write an essay to apply, but rumor had it that sizable donations to the school carried far more weight than the thousand words punched into a Word doc. Mostly it was a way for rich parents to keep their kids out of trouble while they vacationed in Bali.

“Apply? Of course you did. You're applying now. And congratulations, you've been accepted. Looks like several of your little friends will be in attendance too, most importantly Naomi Farrow and Porter Reynolds.” Ms. D. stood up and walked beside me. “My gut tells me she's not involved, but attending the camp will allow you to track her. Can I trust you, Kate?”

Her eyes drilled into mine.

“Yes.” I had no idea if I was telling the truth or lying through my teeth. I wasn't even sure that it mattered.

“Good. Then get packed and be at the school by seven a.m. sharp tomorrow. The bus leaves at eight.”

I was speechless for the first time in my life. One second, I find out Naomi Farrow might be on some sort of murder spree, and the next, I'm heading to sleepaway camp. Only at Pemberly Brown.

“Keep an eye on her, Kate. Don't let her out of your sight. Porter too. On the off chance you're right about this, we're going to need all the evidence we can get our hands on if we're going to go to bat against the Farrows.”

I nodded, already mentally preparing for three days of rope courses, trust circles, and heavy stalking. I started again toward the door, already making lists and plans and excuses for why I would need to stay on top of Naomi like a demented shadow, but Ms. D.'s voice broke my chain of thought once again.

“I believe in you.”

My feelings about Ms. D. were complicated. Once upon a time, she'd been one of the people I trusted most in this world, but everything changed when she took her post as headmistress and helped the Sisterhood take over Pemberly Brown. I still wanted to believe that she had my best interests at heart, but it was impossible to trust her completely.

But it was even more impossible to ignore her faith in me. I didn't want to disappoint Ms. D., but I couldn't forget my real goal of destroying the Sisterhood. My best friend deserved it; every girl after her deserved it; and finally
I
deserved it. And maybe gathering evidence on Naomi would help me kill two birds with one stone. Surely the Sisterhood couldn't survive another scandal. Maybe if I proved that Naomi was the one behind Alistair's death, I'd be able to end the societies for good.

In my dreams, I walked around in super-short shorts, my legs perfectly tanned and toned, wearing a killer pair of hiking boots, while I pummeled Naomi Farrow in front of Bradley and Liam, who were both cheering for me despite the fact that one was her brother and the other pretty much hated me with a passion.

In reality, my skin was roughly the color of ET during his scary, life-threatening Earth illness. My shorts were knee length (camp rules), and my dad, my
dad
, sat next to me on the bus while Bradley was in the way back, plugged into whatever stupid video game he'd packed for the long bus ride.

Needless to say, the sure-you-can-hop-away-on-an-extended-camping-trip conversation I'd planned on having with my parents didn't exactly pan out. Even after a very convincing episode of heart-wrenching sobs and swearing that they were ruining my life, my dad said the only way I would be bussing it to Camp Brown was if he was with me. As a chaperone.

He was currently involved in a very animated discussion about the future of car travel with my Econ teacher across the aisle.

I had visions of the bus careening off the road into a ditch and exploding into flames. At least I wouldn't have to hear about how cars would eventually drive themselves on freeway rails while running on a combination of human waste and vodka.

While my dad waxed poetic about the safety of poop mobiles on my left, Seth was fast asleep in the seat on my right. He made a series of slapping, licking, tasting, most disgusting tongue sounds on the planet, and I elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

“What? Maddie? Sunset? Campfire?” He rubbed the sleep away from his eyes with the back of his hand and flushed. “Oh…Kate. Sorry. Was I talking in my sleep?”

“Yeah totally. Something about a very intimate moment between you, Superman, and Wonder Woman.” I managed to keep a straight face while his cheeks were about burst into flame.

“Well, it's totally normal for guys my age to have fantasies…”

“Oh God, no. Stop, just stop. I was kidding.”

“Works every time.” It was Seth's turn to laugh.

“Well played.” I tipped my imaginary hat to him and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Actually, I was just wondering if you had a chance to talk to Liam. About the plan?”

Seth's green eyes flicked to the back of the bus where Liam sat between Bethany and Naomi. Every so often, we could hear the three of them laughing. The sound made me want to kill someone. Liam hadn't so much as looked at me since the night we'd all landed ourselves in Ms. D.'s office.

Seth patted the back of my hand. “You know, it's okay to be jealous, Kate.” He popped a Raisinet in his mouth, which reminded me way too much of those cars my dad was still rambling on about. “I've been there, believe me.”

“I am not jealous, okay? I'm just tired. And stressed. Excuse me for wanting to make sure that no one else gets hurt.”

“But it really seems like….” I gave Seth the look of death (patent pending), and he stopped mid-sentence. “Uh yeah, Liam's on board,” he finished.

Because of the most recent Naomi twist, Bradley had to be completely snipped out of the investigation without knowing about said snipping. It hadn't been easy. Luckily (or really, unluckily), Bradley was still distracted by grief for Alistair. I pushed up on my seat with my hands to peer down the aisle and saw the top of his shaved head. Even that looked pissed off. It was cocked to the left and lowered slightly. He'd resisted the trip but had come at his parents' and teachers' and counselors' insistence to escape and relax, but mainly to heal. Or so they promised. I had my doubts.

***

Camp Brown met us with the fresh smell of a forest in bloom and blinding sun we had to squint our way through. I sneezed seven times in a row. An auspicious beginning to our little adventure.

A guide named Luca instructed us to strap on our backpacks and prepare for the hike to camp. Siegfried Manchester, inventor of Bye Bye Diaper, a contraption that somehow reduced the size and smell of a dirty diaper into an environmentally friendly nugget, had created the adventure camp as a way of giving back to his alma mater. Every year, students were selected to be bussed out here, placed on teams, and forced to compete in team-building challenges designed to shape future leaders of America, followed by a mandatory three hours of Reflectere to set personal goals and review accomplishments. It was Pemberly Brown meets
Survivor
, but with bug spray, secret missions, and rum smuggled in shampoo bottles.

“It's so pretty out here.” I wrapped my arm around Bradley's waist as he gazed at the lush, green-covered hills in the distance. The trees stretched for miles, and it felt like we were on a different continent, as opposed to just three hours from school. As birds chirped and the brand-new spring leaves rustled in the wind, it struck me how isolated tragedy could be. While Pemberly Brown seemed to be crumbling between our fingers, the rest of the world was welcoming spring. It was unfair and comforting at the same time.

Bradley nodded and squeezed my hand. I knew how hard he was trying, and despite everything I'd been through with Grace, I couldn't imagine how he was feeling right at that moment. I couldn't bring myself back to that place. I wouldn't let myself think about how much we were deceiving Bradley by investigating his sister. It was unforgivable. As unforgivable as Naomi's involvement in the first place.

Once again, I found myself wedged into a tight corner, damned if you do, damned if you don't, and all that. For once, I wished I didn't have to use anyone. I wished something could be easy. I wished that I wasn't always stuck being the Trojan horse.

Liam laughed with Naomi and Bethany a few yards away. He was already at work, cozying up to Naomi. I couldn't stop the stab of jealousy as I watched him throw his arm around her shoulder. Even worse was the look on Bethany's face as she watched them. She so clearly had a thing for Liam, and based on the picture someone had so helpfully texted me the other night, the feeling was mutual.

Bradley, I reminded myself. Focus on Bradley. Focus on the plan. Focus on the Sisterhood. All this crap with Liam could wait, and even if it couldn't, he'd clearly already moved on. What was stopping me?

“Maybe we can hike up there or something,” Bradley said, nodding to the great expanse of green. I let my eyes linger for another second on Liam's dimpled smile and turned back to Bradley, to his sad but hopeful eyes.

“Definitely,” I said, squeezing his hand back. “I'd love to.”

And then a voice seemed to erupt from the trees. It came from nowhere and everywhere all at the same time.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the seventh annual Survivor Games!”