I adjusted my grip so I had one arm under Frank’s chin, keeping his head above water. Then I began to tow him to shore.
All three guys—Douglas, Keith, and Liam—charged out into the lake to meet me. Douglas and Liam grabbed Frank. Keith helped me back onto the beach. “Is Frank okay?” I cried out.
I couldn’t see his chest rising and falling. He lay on the sand, motionless.
“Is he breathing?” I shouted.
Silence.
14.
Don’t Die on Me
“Don’t die on me,” someone mumbled, close to my ear. “Don’t die on me.”
What? Why?
My thoughts felt like they were moving through Jell-O, instead of my brain. I just couldn’t focus.
“I am not having someone else die on me.”
Hands pressed down on my chest. Hard. As that same voice counted out, “One, two, three, four, five.”
I coughed, and I tasted the lake as what felt like half of it came pouring out of my mouth.
“Turn him on his side!” a new voice yelled.
And hands immediately rolled me off my back. The lake water continued to spew out of me. Then, finally, I was able to draw a breath. A shallow, shaky breath followed up by more coughing.
“You could have killed him!” I heard Joe shout.
“I’m okay,” I managed to say.
“No thanks to these cretins,” Joe burst out. “They almost killed both of us. Just because we talked to Liam’s girlfriend.”
“What?” I asked. I sat up—and the whole beach spun around underneath me.
“Let’s not stand around talking about it. We need to get them back,” Douglas said. He threw a pair of Eagle River sweats at me. “You should put these on. You’re soaked.”
Like it was something that had just weirdly happened to me. Like he and his friends hadn’t blindfolded me, gagged me, tied my hands together and thrown me into a lake.
But I wasn’t going to turn down dry clothes. I pulled off my pajamas and got into the sweats as fast as I could. Which still wasn’t fast enough to stop my whole body from breaking out in goose bumps.
“Let’s get back. This isn’t fun anymore,” Keith said.
I wondered when it had stopped being a giggle-fest for him. For me, I think it was when I felt myself sinking, and my legs were too weak to get me back to the surface.
Joe rushed over and stuck out his hand. “You really okay?” he asked as he pulled me to my feet.
“Yeah. You? Looks like you went swimming too.” Joe had on Eagle River sweats, and his wet hair was plastered to his head.
“I’m all right,” he told me. But he looked wrung out, and I noticed his legs shaking as we climbed into the car.
The trip back to the dorm was silent. Joe was halfway falling asleep, and the other guys seemed shell-shocked.
All I wanted was to fall back into bed. But once I finally got there, I couldn’t get my brain to shut off. It felt like it was working more slowly. But it was working. There was something Liam had said when he was doing CPR on me. Something important. But I just couldn’t bring it back.
“You missed a fine performance from our friend Liam tonight—when you were drowning,” Joe said.
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. He had a full-on psycho episode. The whole reason we got tossed in the lake was because Liam thought we were trying to steal his girlfriend. Even though, hello, if I was going to try to date anyone it would have been that girl Lil. She was way cool. I usually like long hair on girls, but I liked short on her. It made her look like an elf. In a good way.”
“You’re kind of babbling,” I said.
“Yeah. Near-death experiences kind of do that to me, I guess,” Joe answered. “Suddenly I feel like I’m completely revved up. Maybe I just have way too much adrenaline left and nothing to do with it. Like swim, or scream for help.”
“What did Liam say to you? He said something to me that I’m trying to remember,” I told Joe.
“Make that what did he scream—with spit flying out of his mouth,” Joe corrected. “He just kept asking me if I was done trying to steal other guys’ girlfriends. And he told me that he didn’t want to ever see me near Emma again. Is that what he said to you?”
I shook my head—then I immediately wished I hadn’t. The last thing my brain needed was to be sloshed around.
“He was giving me CPR,” I said slowly, trying to remember. I closed my eyes, trying to get back to the moment. “And he was telling me not to die on him.” My eyes snapped open. “He said he wasn’t going to have someone else die on him.”
“So he killed Roy,” Joe exclaimed. “I didn’t think Liam was the kind of guy who could kill someone. Not until tonight. The way he just had me do one push-up that time made me think he was really laid-back and everything. But tonight he was like a completely different person.”
There was something in all those words of Joe’s that didn’t quite make sense. I took a minute to sort it out. “I don’t think we can definitely say that Liam killed Roy. Maybe Liam was just in the room when Roy died. Maybe he tried to save Roy.”
“Save him after he almost killed him? The way he did you?” Joe asked.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“You know what we need to do? We need to check out that notebook of Mr. Diehl’s again. See what it says about the night Roy died,” Joe said.
“Good idea.” I struggled to my feet.
“We don’t have to do it tonight. You look pretty wiped.” Joe reached out a hand to steady me.
“It’s only one flight up,” I answered. “And Diehl’s almost definitely asleep. It’s the perfect time.”
I hate to admit it, but I was kind of out of breath by the time we climbed the stairs and walked down the hall to Mr. Diehl’s office. I let Joe open the door. My hands were a little shaky for the job.
A couple of twists with a straightened-out paper clip we found on the floor, and we were in. That’s what ATAC training will do for you.
The notebook wasn’t on Diehl’s desk anymore, but it didn’t take us long to find it. Third drawer down, under the World History text and a box of Kleenex. “February thirteenth, February thirteenth,” Joe muttered as he flipped through the pages. “Here we go. This is Diehl’s entry for the night Roy died.”
“Read it to me,” I requested.
“Here goes,” Joe said. “‘Wednesday. The masters take one of the boys down to the cellar alone for a private session.’”
“So the boy is Roy.” I could feel my heart starting to beat faster. We were about to find out the truth of what happened the night Roy died.
“They circle around him. He’s shaking. He’s terrified. He reaches for the knife he has strapped to his leg,’” Joe continued to read.
“Whoa. Roy brought a knife down to the cellar?” I exclaimed.
“I know. That’s hard-core,” Joe said. He started to read again. “‘But the knife slips from his fingers. All the masters see it fall to the ground. The servant tries to grab it but he’s too slow. One of the masters grabs it, and slashes at the servant with it.’”
“No way!”
“Yeah, I know. Listen to the rest,” Joe answered. “‘The servant brings up his hands to try to protect his face. The knife cuts into one hand. Slash. Slash. The servant backs up, lowering his hand. The master advances and uses the knife to slice the servant’s face. Once. Twice.’”
“No way!” I said again. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“‘Then the masters leave the servant there. Bleeding onto the cellar floor.’” Joe looked up at me. “That’s it for the thirteenth.”
“Except that’s not what happened to Roy,” I protested. “Not even close. Roy didn’t have any cuts on his body. ATAC would have told us if he did. And there wasn’t any mention of a heart attack. Are you sure you’re looking at February thirteenth?”
Joe flipped back a page. “Yep. February thirteenth.”
I spotted a
calendar on Mr. Diehl’s wall. I flipped back to February. “The thirteenth wasn’t even on a Wednesday this year.”
“Maybe the notebook isn’t about this year’s hazing.” Joe turned to the first page. “I don’t see a year anywhere. The entries just have the month and day.”
“We could use Zeller’s Rule to figure out what years February thirteenth fell on a Wednesday,” I said.
“Huh?”
“No, wait. For Zeller’s you have to already know the year. It tells you the day of the week if you know the year and the date,” I corrected.
“Again I say, huh?” Joe said.
“It’s a formula where k is—”
“Never mind. I bet I know what year the notebook is about. And without any Zelber’s whatever,” Joe told me. “Mr. Diehl went here. He told us that, remember?”
“Yeah. And the scars on his face definitely match the injuries the servant got,” I said.
“That’s really sick. I feel sorry for the guy,” Joe answered. “But the notebook’s not going to give us any answers about what happened to Roy.”
15.
Judgment Day
I couldn’t stop staring at Mr. Diehl during history the next day. Staring at the scars on his face and hands. How could he stand to teach here after what had happened to him as a first-year student?
As for Liam, no doodling for him today. He spent most of his time shooting fast little looks at me. Making sure I was still breathing? After what he, Keith, and Douglas did?
By the time the bell rang, I’d only managed to add two sentences about Mr. Diehl’s lecture to my notebook. All that staring and being stared at had given me the willies. Plus, I kept thinking about the investigation. I needed to get back to the dorm, where Frank and I could figure out our next step.
But before I’d made it halfway there, someone grabbed my arm.
Which felt like it had been happening every few seconds lately.
I found myself being tugged behind a clump of trees along the path. And you won’t believe who’d done the tugging. I didn’t. It was Emma Whitley. As in, the girl I was never supposed to get near again.
I pulled my arm out of her grip. “You could have just tried something like, ‘I need to speak to you. Would you step over here for a minute.’ Anything along those lines,” I told her.
“Shut up,” she answered. Clearly, she had all kinds of politeness issues. “If Liam sees me talking to you, he’s not going to be happy.”
“And an unhappy Liam is … pretty much a psycho killer,” I answered.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Emma stepped deeper into the stretch of trees. “Would you please come over here so that no one will see us?”
I moved over to her. I didn’t want anyone to see us either. And she had asked, instead of just grabbing.
“I heard what Liam did to you and your brother last night,” Emma told me. “Liam called me after it happened. He was totally freaked. I think he might actually have been crying.”
“Poor, poor Liam,” I said. “My brother was at the bottom of the lake. He’d stopped breathing.”
“I know.” Emma shoved her hands through her long hair. “I know, I know, I know. And that is so horrible. It’s just that Liam … he gets so incredibly jealous. He just loses it sometimes.”
“And that’s okay with you? You’re okay with having a boyfriend who loses it like that?” I asked. “Aren’t you even a little bit afraid that you’ll be facing some Liam rage yourself someday? Even if you don’t care about anyone else.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “I do care. Of course I care.” She pulled a leaf off one of the trees and twisted it in her fingers. “It’s just that I … I really love him, you know? And most of the time, he’s great. He’s funny. And sweet. He just has to get control of this jealousy thing. I keep trying to convince him that he has nothing to be jealous of. But he just won’t get it.”
She dropped the mangled leaf. “So you and your brother, you’re both all right?”
“Yeah. But what about Roy?”
Emma’s mouth dropped open, and she didn’t say anything for a second. Then she asked, “Roy? What about Roy?”
“Do you think Liam could have killed Roy? Maybe not on purpose, but do you think he could have forced him to, like, do push-ups for so many hours that Roy had a heart attack?”
Emma’s face paled. Fast. As fast as water pours out of an upended glass. “I always thought there was something weird about Roy’s death,” she admitted. “No one outside of the academy is supposed to know what goes on between the servants and the masters, but a lot of the girls at my school do. I do, because Roy and Liam both told me stuff. Roy was having a really hard time.”
“So, are you saying you think Liam could have accidentally killed Roy?” I asked, careful to keep my voice low and calm.
“No!” Emma exclaimed. “No, Roy and I were a couple when he died. Liam couldn’t have been jealous. I wasn’t even his girlfriend then.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I think something bad might have happened, though. Some out-of-control hazing thing.”
“You know, a guy doesn’t have to be with a girl to be jealous,” I said. I know, I know. It’s not like I’ve had all that much experience in this area. But it’s not exactly rocket science. “A guy can be jealous of someone’s boyfriend, if the guy wants to be with the girl himself.”
Emma didn’t have anything to say to that.
“Do you think Liam could have sort of had his eye on you when you were going out with Roy? Do you think he could have wanted Roy out of the way?” I asked.
“If he did, he never said anything to me. I never got any vibe from Liam,” Emma answered. “Not that I was paying that much attention. ’Cause I was going out with Roy.”
“So Roy was a good boyfriend?” I asked. I hated to do it. I knew I could be hurting her if she really had cared about Roy. But I wanted to see her reaction—because Emma was a suspect too.
Emma yanked another leaf off a tree and started twisting. “Roy—” She snapped her mouth shut. “I think I hear someone coming. I have to get out of here. Tell your brother I’m glad he’s okay. Tell him Liam is really, really sorry.”
Then she bolted.
I bolted too. I wanted to find Frank and get him up to speed. I found him in the lobby of the dorm, checking our mail slot.
“Aunt Trudy sent cookies,” he told me.
“Excellent,” I said. I lowered my voice. “Emma Whitley gave me a message for you.”
“You talked to her? Are you insane?” Frank burst out.
“She started it,” I answered. “She grabbed me.” I looked around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear us. “She wanted us to know that Liam is really sorry. That he almost cried—that’s how sorry he was. He just has these jealousy management problems. And so the upshot is that, basically, we should forgive him.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Were you able to talk to her about Roy at all?”
“Tried,” I answered. “She practically sprinted away as soon as I started trying to find out if he was a good boyfriend or not. But she says there’s no way Liam went all jealous on Roy and gave him a heart attack. She says Liam wouldn’t have been jealous of Roy, because Liam wasn’t her boyfriend when she was with Roy.”
Frank rolled his eyes again. “Did you tell her that you get jealous when M.J. kisses Spider-Man?”
“No. Because that’s not true,” I answered.
Frank laughed. See, he totally has no sense of humor. He doesn’t laugh when things are funny. He laughs when they aren’t.
I ignored him. “The weird thing is that when she was talking to me about what a great guy he was, for a minute I could see it. That first day I met him, when he made me do a push-up for not knowing all—or most of—the lyrics to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’ he seemed cool. And his favorite song is ‘Bohemian Rhapsody.’ How bad can you be and have that as your favorite song?”
“Bad enough to almost drown both of us,” Frank
reminded me.
“Oh. Right. That. Okay, so he’s at the top of the suspect list,” I said.
“It’s not like he did it alone, though,” Frank answered. “He was definitely the leader last night. But Keith and Douglas were with him.”
“So what do you think we do now?” I asked.
“I’m thinking we hit the servant lounge with these.” He gave Aunt Trudy’s box of cookies a shake. “The servants knew all the masters, and they knew Roy. There’s got to be some info we can get out of them.”
“And we have to sacrifice the baked goods to do it?” I complained as we started up the stairs.
“’Fraid so,” Frank said. “No one said this job would be easy.”
But he opened the box and held it out to me. I grabbed three of Aunt Trudy’s famous cookies—pretty much everything tasty in one place. Caramel, chocolate chips, nuts, coconut. I concentrated on enjoying every bite. I doubted there would be any more cookies when we left the lounge.
“I want to toss my backpack in our room,” Frank said.
“Sounds good.”
He opened the door.
And the bite of cookie I had in my mouth went down the wrong way. For a second I couldn’t breathe.
Our room was filled with people.
And no, it wasn’t a surprise party. At least not the good kind.
Every guy in the room was a master. That was clear from the long black robes they all wore.
“Put this on,” one of the guys said. I couldn’t tell who. They all had their hoods on. He tossed white robes to me and Frank.
“We’re taking you down to the cellar.”
What were we supposed to do? We were severely outnumbered.
So we let ourselves be herded down, down, down. Into the darkness of the cellar. Where, as you might recall, no one can hear you scream.
And I wanted to scream. I admit it. After last night, I wanted to scream the place down. Of course, I didn’t.
I stood silently in the center of the cellar. Surrounded by black-robed figures.
Finally, The Voice began to speak. Now I knew it was just a regular guy with a voice disguiser strapped over his throat. But it was still creepy.
Hazed Page 8
