Secret of the Sevens (11 page)

Nineteen

The next afternoon, Coach lets us out late from films and I dash home to talk to Delaney. I walk into the kitchen and Juan says, “Good game last night.”

“Thanks.” I pour a bowl of Frosted Flakes and poke my head into the family room.
Empty
. “Have you seen Laney?”

“Kollin is treating her to a mini-makeover for the homecoming dance. The cosmetology students are doing a fundraiser for the Vocational Department.”

Kollin.
Laney may think LeBeau's so great, but the Sevens chose
me
. That feels almost as good as the look on her face when I showed her the clue in the Board of Directors photograph.

The whole time I'm showering and shaving, I'm focusing on the clues, trying to come up with something else I can impress her with. Unfortunately, all the Adderall in the world can't help me translate
Numbers 35:17
by myself.

I plunk down in a chair in the study, sign onto a computer, and google
Numbers 35:17.

And gentlemen, we have a winner.
All ten results on the first page point to the same thing—a verse from the Bible:

Numbers 35:17 If anyone is holding a stone and strikes someone a fatal blow
with it, that person is a murderer; murderers should be put to death.

Holy shit.

Let me think. William Singer died in a fire following a blow to the head. But that can't be it, because the half-clues were left by Mr. Singer before he was murdered. Also, the half-clue from the pediment proverb linked this verse to the phrase
Mary always wore a helmet
.

When it finally dawns on me, I jump up so fast that I nail my leg on the underside of the desk. I bend over, groaning and limping around in agony and ecstasy at the same time, because I now understand what Mr. Singer so desperately wanted someone to know. Pain burns my thigh and knee, but I don't even care. I can't wait to tell Laney.

I hobble through the halls and knock on her door to see if she's back yet. Adrenaline and excitement have my heart racing.

She answers, “Just a sec.”

I'm totally pumped to tell her what I figured out when she opens her door and …

Laney stands there in a short, clingy red dress. Her brown hair hangs in soft curls over her bare shoulders and her doe eyes are widened even more by whatever makeover magic they performed on her. I can't remember how to talk when she says, “What's up?”

I can't even remember what I came for because, well …hello … tight red dress.

I don't want them to … I tell them not to … I practically scream
don't you dare
… but my eyes refuse to listen to my brain. They trace a path from her spiky heels up her ridiculously long legs, over every curve and inch of thin material covering her, up, up, up, slowly riding the waves of her body with my eyes until they finally stall at the deep red lipstick on her mouth. My legs get wobbly and my body grows warm.

“What's the matter with you? You're as red as a tomato. Have you been drinking, Talan?”

She knows she looks good. I can tell by the smile crinkles at the corners of her lips and eyes. She gently sways her hips forward and back so the bottom of her dress wraps around her thighs, revealing even more leg. She plays with a lock of her hair and asks, “Do I look all right? Brandy Compton did my makeup.”

When she brushes something off the top of her dress, I don't dare look. I might never speak again. I stare at her plump cherry lips instead and imagine us kissing. Getting red lipstick on my mouth and collar and neck and—

Laney interrupts my fantasy. “Mom hates it, of course,” she says. “She thinks it's way too much makeup for me.” She leans over to fix a strap on her heels and my eyes wander. They bungee back into their sockets the moment she straightens up again. “I thought they did a good job. Kollin said I looked beautiful.”

Kollin
. Damn. That's right. Laney is Kollin's girl. Those are Kollin's lips to kiss, and Kollin's lipstick to fantasize about.

Suddenly, I hate how amazing she looks.

She raises her eyebrows and smiles. “Well come on, what do you think?”

My words slip out thoughtless and stupid. “You're …you're wearing too much makeup.”

Her smile flatlines and her eyes go from flirty to moist. She slowly lifts her hand and touches her mouth with her fingers. She stares at me like I just fed her stuffed dolphin to a hungry shark. I want to take it back. I would if I could, but I can't. I need to leave. Now, before I say something even more stupid.

I drop my head and walk out of her room.

Twenty

This dance sucks.

Taylor spent the entire dinner identifying the calorie content of every piece of food on our table. Which is only slightly more boring than the list she recited of physical activities she'd have to perform to burn off said calories. Who would have guessed it would take her an hour and fifteen minutes of Zumba to burn off the calories in the double chocolate layer cake they served for dessert? Not me.

Who cares?
Definitely
not me.

Everyone else is done and gone from the table, and Taylor's still finishing her salad. Maybe if she'd stop calorie-obsessing and eat faster, we could dance off the lettuce and cucumber she's been nibbling on for the last half hour.

She waves her fork in front of me. “Do you know why I chew this cherry tomato twenty times before I swallow it?”

“Because you're so skinny, if you swallowed it whole, you'd look pregnant?”

She giggles and says, “No. But thanks for the compliment.”

Be nice, don't roll your eyes, Michaels.

She finishes, “It's because if you chew each bite twenty times, it makes the food more digestible. And by eating slower, you also burn more calories and eat less.”

I snatch her plate of forbidden cake and cut off a huge forkful, shoving it in my mouth. “Really?” I say with my mouth full.

“Yep. I read that on the Internet.”

I try not to choke as I swallow it down. I lean back and search the dance floor. Laney is slow dancing with Kollin, laughing and talking over his shoulder at some of her friends.

“You want to dance?” I ask Taylor.

“In twenty minutes. It's best to let the digestive enzymes break down the fat molecules before you begin your exercise.”

Taylor seemed a lot more interesting last time I saw her. Of course, her mouth was attached to mine and she wasn't talking then.

When I look again, Laney and Kollin separate. Kollin heads toward the refreshment table and Laney walks out the door into the hallway where the restrooms are.

I jump up. “I need to use the bathroom,” I tell Taylor. “You stay here and … digest.”

She doesn't even nod. She's too focused on counting her chews. I trot around the tables and into the corridor in time to see Laney enter the bathroom. My brain scrambles to think of a way to explain why I keep impersonating an asshole whenever she's around. I'm staring at my shoes and pacing outside the bathroom when Laney walks out.

“Can't decide which restroom to use?” Her sexy, cherry-colored lips have shrunk to a blood-red dash mark.

Her mouth opens, but words come out of mine first. “You look beautiful, Laney.”

Her head tilts. She's running my words through her bullshit detector.

“You really do. I swear.” I hate how timid my voice sounds, but I can't seem to locate my testosterone. “I only said that thing before, the thing about the makeup, because … because I didn't want you to get in trouble with your mom.” I fake a smile as phony as Kollin.

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't say anything.

“Listen,” I tell her. “That whole thing came out stupid. I'm sorry.” I'm rubbing my sweaty palms together so frantically, if I had some hand soap I could lather the whole hallway. “I just wanted to tell you that. I know I joke around easy enough, but I never seem to say the serious stuff right.” I look at the ground. “Like how great you look.”

I shove my hands in my pockets before I chafe them raw.

When I glance up, Laney's face is relaxed with a full smile again. Her left eyebrow lifts. “God, you're good.” She shakes her head and laughs. “No wonder you get all the hot girls. Lines like that make
even me
all tingly.” Nodding, she regards me skeptically. “You know, Michaels, if you decide to go to college, you could major in sweet-talking.”

Okay. Not the reaction I wanted, but at least she's not mad anymore.

She circles around me to leave and I catch her elbow. “Wait.” I don't want to be done talking to her. I don't want her to go back to Kollin, and me to go back to Taylor, and for her and me to spend the rest of the night
not
being together.

“I … I solved the riddle,” I blurt out.

“What?”

“Numbers 35:17. I figured it out.”

“You did?” I have her undivided attention now. “What's it mean?”

“I googled it this afternoon and—”

“There you are!” Kollin's voice calls from the end of the hall.

Laney's back is to Kollin, but it's obvious she recognizes his voice. She scrunches her face with annoyance. I know she's disappointed about not being able to talk about the Sevens and it has nothing to do with me, but it gives me a little thrill. We share a private connection that Kollin will never be part of.

She mouths
Later
and walks off to join him.

I watch as he throws an arm around her shoulder, glaring back at me. He whispers something in her ear.

Her response slices through me: “We bumped into each other, that's all. Give me a little credit. It's Talan.”

I get why she said it. And the thing is, I've said the same kind of thing about a few girls myself. But her words … they cut me like a razor.

Twenty-one

I'm waiting for Laney at the island in the kitchen, eating a bowl of cereal, when Marcus strolls in with his tie in his hand and a grin on his face.

“Dude,” he says. “Where were you? You and Taylor left so early, you missed the excitement. Or were you two busy making your own excitement?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Uh, yeah,” I mumble. “We just wanted to get out of there after a while. What'd I miss?”

“The police showed up.”

“Boyle found the vodka Vanessa smuggled from her home visit?”

“No. Listen to this.” He pulls up a chair next to me and I sigh inside. Marcus is my best friend, but he can stretch a simple story into a two-hour documentary. “Someone dug up a grave in the Rucker Road cemetery. Security called the police, and they came to find Boyle.”

“What?” Suddenly I remember the skull that's sitting in my backpack. “Do they know who did it?”

“They think it was a student, or a group of students. Shannon went outside to get some fresh air and overheard the whole thing. One of the cops told Boyle that
remains
were stolen!”

I'm sweating, and I don't know why. I can see the spoon shake in my hand. So does Marcus, apparently.

“I know, right? It's sick,” he says.

“Why do they think it was a student? That end of campus has no fence. A townie could have done it.”

“Yeah, here's the creepiest part. Someone spray-painted the side of the mausoleum. They wrote
the Sevens are back
in red letters.”

My stomach feels like Marcus kicked it with his cleats. “What?”

“I know. Freaky, huh?” He hops up and shoves his chair in. “Gotta go. I'm gonna see if Jake heard.”

My hands are numb. Actually, my whole body is numb. I stand up and shake my arms out, pacing back in forth in front of the sink. None of this makes sense. If the Sevens wanted to remain a secret, why would they do that? It had to be Kane and the Pillars. They just wanted it to
look
like the Sevens.

Where the hell is Laney?

I dump my cereal in the sink and take off for my room. I lock the door and dig through my backpack, lifting out the skull fragments. I've got to ditch them somewhere fast.

I spot the floor vent by my bed, lift it out, and drop the bones inside, sliding the cover back in place. Then, back to the kitchen to wash my hands and wait.

Damn it, Shanahan. Where are you?
Please be okay.

I'm standing at the sink scrubbing my hands for the hundredth time when Laney finally strolls in, humming.

“Best. Dance. Ever,” she says.

I bend back to make sure we're alone and say, “It's one in the morning. Did you forget we have a curfew?”

She checks the clock. “It's not even 12:30. And I got an extension because Student Council had to stay late.”

“An extended curfew, huh? Oh yeah, that's fair.”

Laney slides out of her pumps and tosses them by the door. “What do you mean,
fair
?” She bends her leg up and rubs one of her heels. “I was cleaning up. What do you care, anyhow?”

“I don't.” I check the hall to make sure we're alone. “I just figured you'd want to talk about the grave robbing. I'm sort of surprised you couldn't pull yourself away from Kollin for five minutes so we could talk about the Sevens.” I slump back against the counter. “Are you committed to this or not, Shanahan?”

“Pull
myself
away? I
did
go looking for you, but you left early. With Taylor. What was I supposed to do? Scour the bushes and alleys? Follow your bread-crumb trail of discarded clothes to track down whatever closet you two were hooking up in?”

“I left early,” I snap, “to come home. I told Taylor I was feeling sick. I assumed you'd come home early too, so we could finish our conversation about the clue. It's called sacrifice. It's one of the seven virtues, if you remember.”

“Well, if you'd told me that's what you were doing, maybe I would have come home. It's called communication, if
you
remember … Wait a minute.” Her head shakes. “What did you say before? Did you say grave robbing?”

“You didn't hear about it?”

“Hear what?”

“Someone dug up a grave in the old cemetery and stole ‘remains.' Then they spray-painted
the Sevens are back
on the side of the mausoleum.”

She pauses to take it all in, sliding into a chair. “The Sevens wouldn't do that.” Her eyes widen. “But the Pillars would. That's where they got the skull they threatened you with. They must be trying to frame the Sevens … Or you.”

“No duh.”

“What if they're trying to set you up? You're already on thin ice with Headmaster Boyle. Maybe you should drop out of the Sevens before you get expelled.”

“I'm not quitting. We agreed we're a team. Until the end.”

“Then we've got to solve these clues faster. We have to figure out how to help the Sevens before something worse happens to you.” She hops up and moves a foot in front of me. “What were you trying to tell me earlier?”

“Laney, I figured it out.
Numbers 35:17
is a Bible verse. It says that if a person strikes someone with a stone and kills them, they're a murderer. I combined it with the half clue
Mary always wore a helmet
and figured out what Mr. Singer was trying to say.”

“What?”

“Think about it. Mary supposedly died from a head injury during a horse-riding accident. That painting showed all those awards to remind us she was an expert rider. An expert rider who also wore a helmet all the time. My guess is her body was found without it, and Singer had reasons to suspect her injury wasn't an accident. I think Singer was saying that his wife was murdered. If, like the last poem said, we ‘memorize all we learn in this game,' I'm guessing the murderer was someone on the Singer Board of Directors.”

“Wow.” She lifts her eyes to mine. “Talan. Wow!” She tackles me in a hug like I just made the game-winning play. When she pulls back, our eyes lock.

Her hands slide to the top of my shoulders. Her excited smile slowly relaxes into a strange grin and her gaze travels down to my mouth.

My head is swimming from the closeness of her.

There's a look in her eyes. I know this look, I think. Laney leans closer, slowly, then closer. I definitely know this move. Instantly, she freezes.

Her eyes widen and she leans to the right to look behind me. Not a second later, Mom Shanahan appears at my side.

She's staring at Laney's hands on both sides of my neck.

Laney looks from her mother to her hands and back to me. She pats my chest awkwardly. “Th-that's great that you made up with Taylor. I'm happy that everything's better with you two.” Her arms drop and she sidesteps me. “Hey, Mom.”

Mom's face is starched with suspicion.

“Well, it's been a long day and I'm exhausted.” Laney kisses her mother on the cheek. “See you guys tomorrow.”

Laney and I duck out opposite doors, leaving her mom standing there with her mouth open like a hungry bird.