The Liar Society

by Lisa Roecker

  “Ya think?” I was actually impressed with Seth’s sarcasm.

  We walked back into the gym, and I felt the panic well up inside of me. I’m not sure if it was the heat generated by all those dancing bodies or maybe the garish decorations that felt like they were closing in on me, but I was close to losing it, and it was only 8:30.

  Liam must have noticed the panic on my face, because he grabbed my hand.

  “Come on, dance with me.”

  I hesitated, imagining the investigation crumbling around me. And then I glanced at Seth. “I don’t know…” Not only did everything feel like it was exploding at my feet, but I felt bad leaving him out.

  “No, no, it’s fine. It’s Homecoming. You should dance.” Seth offered us a weak smile. “Besides, I’ve had my fair share of dances with you. Remember junior high?”

  “How could I forget?” Seth had always made it a point to ask me to slow dance during the most excruciatingly long songs. I looked at Liam and then back at Seth. “Okay, one dance. But only if you dance with me next, okay?”

  Seth smiled, and my worries about Headmaster Sinclair, the Sisterhood, the Brotherhood, and even the damn tunnels seemed a little farther away.

  For the next hour or so we danced and danced. It wasn’t exactly how I’d envisioned myself at Homecoming when I was younger, but it was close enough. And better than that, it was fun.

  I kept my eye on Beefany, Taylor, Maddie, and the Sisters, and Alistair, Bradley, and the Brothers, but no one seemed to be making any move to leave.

  The band went on break, and I saw the Homecoming court preparing for the big crowning ceremony. A quick glance at my phone confirmed that it was already 10:30. Almost time for me to make my exit.

  And then I saw her—the now familiar flash of plaid skirt and black hair. The girl slipped out a side door, escaping into the cool night air. I looked around at the rest of the people in the room, wondering if anyone else had seen my ghost, and my eyes fell on Maddie. She faced the double doors and, as though she could feel my eyes on her, turned and looked directly at me.

  I cocked my head and offered a smile, but she just nodded slowly and turned away. Guess the girl in the plaid skirt had two people on her list to haunt.

  When my phone buzzed in the pocket of my dress, I whipped it out, expecting another email. But this time it was a text from a private number.

  You’re running out of time.

  I clenched my stomach muscles as I read the words. I whipped my head around the crowded gym searching for anyone who could have sent it. But it was no use. People danced and laughed and gossiped. Like normal.

  Liam must have been studying me closely as I read the text. “What’s up?” he asked, shaking a strand of hair from over his eyes.

  “Uh, nothing.” My mind flashed back to the night of the bonfire and sitting on the bench with Bradley while the chapel burned. I couldn’t make the same mistake again. I had to get out of here. I had to go to her.

  I felt bad about keeping Seth and Liam in the dark about my rendezvous with Grace that night, but this was something I had to do alone. That’s the way Grace wanted it. And I knew if I told them the truth, they’d never let me go.

  But I needed a safety net, just in case. I typed, “At headquarters. Come looking for me in twenty minutes if I’m not back yet. Need to do this alone,” and saved the message as a draft. I knew Liam would never wait the full twenty minutes, so I would send it after I cracked the code to the headquarters. Just in case I needed backup. A wave of guilt washed over me as I considered what came next, but it couldn’t be helped.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” I told Seth and Liam. As they both prepared to protest, I played the ultimate trump card. “It’s all just too much for me. Grace should be here tonight, and she’s not. I just need some time to process.” I should have felt guilty using Grace as an excuse, but something told me she’d understand and probably even approve.

  Seth’s face fell, and Liam looked concerned.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “I can’t. I just need a minute, okay?” They both mumbled something about taking my time, and I walked away, praying that I’d made the right decision in leaving them behind.

  The second I made it outside the school doors, I took off my heels and ran as fast as I could for the clock tower. I felt a surge of courage as the cool air whipped through my hair and my bare feet pounded the brick path to the tower. Whatever was waiting for me beneath Pemberly Brown, I was ready for it.

  Chapter 52

  I navigated through the secret clock-tower door and down into the maze of tunnels like an expert. I didn’t have time to think about how scared I was about meeting Grace’s ghost or whoever else might be waiting for me at the headquarters. I just wanted to get there, figure out the damn code word, put all the pieces together, and take down the Sisterhood, Brotherhood, whoeverhood.

  When I finally stopped in front of the carved door, my skin glistened with sweat and my breathing was ragged. My hair had fallen and lay in a frizzy heap down my back. I had ditched my fabulous gold heels somewhere along the brick path to the clock tower, and my feet were sore and dirty. But all of that barely registered as I stood in front of the symbol of the Sisterhood on the door. The Brotherhood’s calling card still screamed across the wood in blood-red paint, and I again wondered if I was making a mistake. But I didn’t have time for regrets.

  Audi, Vide, Tace. “Hear, See, Be Silent.” Reaching into my clutch with a shaking hand, I pulled out the scrap of paper I’d used to brainstorm possible passwords. I tried “divide” first, taking care with each letter. After three seconds, the letters popped back out at me. My heart sank a little, because that was the best word I’d come up with.

  Next I tried “cat” (see?), “ace,” and “die.” The letters stuck and then popped. Again, again, again. Scrambling, I punched in the last few words on my list and even tried some nonsensical ones. Still. Nothing. I sent a silent plea upward for clarity. I just needed to get in there, to finish this.

  And that’s when I noticed. A few of the letters were dull and more worn than the rest. The a from Audi; the v, e, and d from Vide; the e from Tace. A-V-E-D-E. Nothing. I tried a few more combinations, felt my eyes well up with tears of frustration, kicked the door twice, and all of the sudden I saw it. E-V-A-D-E. The perfect secret code word. To escape, to elude, to avoid. All the things the Sisterhood stood for. I punched the letters with my finger and heard the dull pop of the lock.

  My arms burned as I pushed open the heavy doors and entered into a wall of darkness. Pulling my phone from my clutch, I navigated to my draft, keyed in the password Liam and Seth would need to get in, and hit Send. If nothing else, they’d know where to search for my body. A chill ran down my spine at the thought of it, but I was ready. I had come this far. I hesitated before releasing the heavy door and snuffing out the light, but there was no way I could feel for the switch and hold the door at the same time.

  As the door thudded shut behind me, I used my phone as a flashlight and groped around for a light switch. When my fingers finally made contact with the wall plate, I flicked one of the switches and half expected to hear “Surprise!” or something. But no one was there.

  “Grace?” I called out. “Grace, it’s me.”

  Silence. Despite the fact that I was alone, my cheeks burned with embarrassment. How could I have been so stupid? Did I really think she’d be waiting for me after all this time? After the articles in the paper, the funeral, the endless trips to Dr. P., did I really not grasp that Grace was gone, dead, buried?

  I squeezed my eyes shut and rubbed my temples, attempting to ward off the headache I could feel creeping from the center of my forehead out. I could leave now and head back to the dance, move on. But where did that leave Grace? And what about the next girl? I’d made it this far. I needed to finish what I’d started.

  I slowly opened my eyes, and the room settled back into focus. The ceilings were taller than I would have expected,
giving the space an airy feeling in spite of the fact that we were more than twenty feet underground. The hardwood floors gleamed. Cherry wood paneling covered all the walls except to the left, which instead contained built-in filing cabinets. Overstuffed couches and a huge flat-screen TV made it feel more like a well-appointed basement in a friend’s house than a secret society’s underground lair.

  Okay, I was here, but now what? I wasn’t sure if I should start digging through the filing cabinets looking for information, or if I should sit there and wait for whoever or whatever was going to meet me.

  A few seconds passed with my bare feet shaking on the cold wooden floors. Who was I kidding? There was no way I could sit on the couch and wait without doing something. Instead I began doing what I had learned to do best—snoop.

  The cabinets were a treasure trove of information. I found answers to all the most recent tests we’d had in school and answers to tests dated four months from now. I found a list of all the alumni who had attended Ivy League schools and their contact information. There were five or six different versions of the SAT and ACT, plus AP tests for every subject.

  In one drawer I found a bunch of copies of Calvin Markwell’s book, and when I flipped to the pages about the stations, everything was intact. The next drawer contained an incredibly heavy and worn-looking encyclopedia-type book. Page after page listed information about rituals, ceremonies, traditions, secret handshakes, maps, code words, oaths.

  And then there were the student files. Folders were labeled by graduating class and went back as far as 1950, the year Pemberly merged with Brown. Every student who had ever attended Pemberly Brown was listed, along with biographical information, locker combinations, and, in the more recent files, Pemberly Brown email account information and passwords, our PB social website user names and passwords, and even the passwords to access cell-phone voice mails and texts.

  One drawer contained files full of incriminating pictures. Girls were lined up in nothing more than their bras and underwear, faces turned toward the ground. They looked absolutely humiliated, and I wondered how anyone could think being in the Sisterhood was worth the mortification of being photographed half naked. But then I remembered. This was Brotherhood territory. No wonder the societies were at war. The secrets in these files went much deeper than just pop-quiz answers.

  And then I stumbled across a file for Abigail Moore, the girl who had died mysteriously so many years ago. I delicately lifted the yellowed paper from the folder and squinted as I tried to decipher the loopy handwriting.

  It looked like minutes from a meeting back in 1971, pages of handwritten notes about Elisa, Abigail’s sister, knowing information that could destroy the Brotherhood. And even some mention of her poor sister, Abigail, who had dared to accuse one of the brothers of assault. They had harassed her to the point of death, though it was unclear whether she had taken her own life or it had been taken from her. It was probably a little bit of both, I thought, a shiver running up and down my arms and legs.

  As I fought back my anger, my eyes fell on the rest of the file drawers. There were so many of them—an entire wall full. How many files with girls’ names on them were locked in this room? How many of the names matched those on the stones in the Memorial Garden? And more importantly, where was the file for Grace?

  A noise at the door made me stop reading. I heard the dull padding of somebody running. After sliding the file back into the cabinet, I stretched my neck toward the entryway. The footsteps came closer, stopped for a few seconds, and were replaced with the pop of a lock.

  The heavy door creaked open, and the hem of her pink dress came into view first. Then I saw Taylor (crown and all) standing on her tiptoes in the entryway holding both of her shoes. Her eyes locked on mine. Instead of looking surprised to see me, she looked like this was the most natural place in the world for us to meet.

  “You made it, Kate,” she said matter-of-factly. “You actually made it.”

  Chapter 53

  Something about her words sounded different to me, and then I realized it was the first time she’d spoken to me since I’d seen her at Maddie’s the day after Spiritus. Ever since that day, Beefany had been the one doing the talking.

  “You’d better sit down, because I don’t know how much time we have,” Taylor said, moving toward the couch.

  “Wait, how did you know I was going to be here?” I asked, confused. “Did you get an email from Grace too?”

  “Not exactly.” Taylor glanced nervously between the door and my face. “I don’t know how else to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it. There were no emails from Grace.”

  Before I could even make sense of what she said, the door to the headquarters swung open.

  “Kate! Thank God I got here in time.” It was Alistair Reynolds.

  “What? I mean, what’s going on?” I was beyond confused.

  Taylor’s face darkened. “What are you trying to pull, Alistair?”

  He rushed to me and grabbed one of my hands. “I’m trying to save her from you. She knows too much, isn’t that right, Taylor? Were you planning another fire for tonight?” Alistair asked, as he dragged me toward the door and pulled the handle, his voice spiked with anger. I shook my head, even more confused, and turned back to Taylor.

  “He’s lying, Kate. You can’t believe him.” Taylor eyes bugged out. She looked panicked.

  The word lying echoed in my brain. How could you ever really know the truth?

  “Oh, really, Taylor? So you’ve told her all about the emails then?” Alistair sneered.

  “What about the emails?” I finally asked, pulling my hand from Alistair’s and walking back to Taylor.

  “Yeah, Taylor, what about the emails?” Alistair repeated.

  She looked down at her freshly polished nails. “I sent them,” she whispered.

  “Speak up, T. I don’t think she heard you,” Alistair snapped.

  “I sent them.” She spoke slowly, lifting her eyes to meet mine. “I had to. I mean, I needed someone to figure out the truth, but I couldn’t risk coming forward myself. The Sisterhood would have been compromised, and everyone would have disowned me. What happened that night…it’s been eating me alive. And I guess I thought you might be able to save us, to take back what is rightfully ours.”

  She glared at Alistair. “I was wrong.” When she turned back to me, I saw that something had changed in her eyes. The ice queen was back.

  “You see, Kate,” Alistair began, spelling it out for me as though I were a child, “this is all Taylor’s fault. She lied to you, pretended she was your dead best friend. And all along she was in charge of the Sisterhood’s new pledges that night. She lit the candles that set the entire chapel on fire, and she’s the one who sent Grace to the basement to die. Come on; let’s get out of here while we still can. There’s no telling what she’s capable of.”

  “You liar!” Taylor threw her hands in the air and screamed at the top of her lungs, slowly unraveling. “I didn’t set the fire, and I don’t know why Grace was even in the basement. She was late like everyone else. And you weren’t there! How could you possibly know?” She began to cry.

  “The chapel is completely sealed. The only way in or out is through the tunnels. And there was so much smoke.” She choked on the words. “We could barely find the way out.”

  Adrenaline coursed through my veins, igniting each of my senses. My heart pounded in my ears, my feet burned, and my stomach heaved as Taylor’s perfume clashed with Alistair’s cologne. Something didn’t feel right.

  You weren’t there! How could you possibly know? I repeated the words in my head. She was wrong. Alistair had been there that night. Liam had seen him.

  “She started the fire. She saved herself, and she forgot all about Grace,” Alistair said, straightening. “Something tells me you wouldn’t have forgotten her, Kate.” He turned to the door. “Are you coming or what?”

  At this point, the room began to spin. It was all too much. Nobody was supp
osed to get hurt, yet Taylor had left my best friend in the basement to die? Alistair wasn’t there that night, but Liam had seen him running through the woods? Taylor was hysterical now, practically choking on air as Alistair stood at the door, impatient and self-assured.

  I didn’t want to believe either of them. I almost wished I didn’t know anything. An accident was so much easier to swallow. Setting a fire and leaving someone to die? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. But worse than that, Alistair was right. There’s no doubt that if I had been there on time, I never would have left without Grace. A wave of guilt washed over me for the millionth time since she died. This was my fault too.

  “I didn’t do it, Kate,” Taylor cried. “I didn’t start the fire. I don’t know how it started, but what I do know is that somehow the Brotherhood got access to the tunnels that night. Someone let them in.”

  Wiping at her eyes, she pointed at Alistair. “Someone died, but all you and your Brothers cared about was this.” She opened her arms and gestured to the space around us, hiccupping a little.

  I tried to imagine Grace’s last moments, to fill in the pieces and finally see the truth. And that’s when I remembered. Cameron. How did he fit into the puzzle? He was supposed to meet Grace. To meet Grace in the basement. And when the fire began, instead of following the others, she must have been searching for him through the smoke. Only he wasn’t there.

  Alistair was lying.

  “You’re lying,” I whispered. “Taylor didn’t put Grace in the basement. Grace was trying to find Cameron.” Taylor looked over at me, her blue eyes round and red from crying.

  Alistair laughed. “You’re going to believe that druggie loser over me?”

  “Actually, yeah, and…” Before I could accuse him of being in the woods that night, the click of a lock interrupted me. All of our heads turned to the door.

  And in walked Maddie.

  She didn’t look surprised to see any of us, and I was starting to wonder just how many people had access to Grace’s email account. And mine. Guess that explained why Taylor felt the need to write her emails in riddles.