Secret of the Sevens

by Lynn Lindquist

  “What?”

  “They tore up the field and trashed the bleachers. They even broke into the concession stand and threw stuff everywhere. There was Sevens graffiti spray painted all over the place. Things like F— you Singer School and the Sevens are back.”

  My hands twitch from anger and fear. “So that’s why we had practice in the fieldhouse today … ”

  “They’re trying to keep it hush-hush until they investigate further, but I was checking the student council mailbox and I overheard them talking. Headmaster Boyle said he’ll be overseeing security on campus until they catch whoever is behind this.”

  When she looks at me, her lips are trembling. “I’m worried, Tal. Why are they doing this? Are they trying to scare you or frame you? I don’t know what to do anymore. The Sevens are incredibly important to me, but I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Are you thinking we should tell someone? Maybe your parents?”

  “No!” Her voice quivers. “My parents can’t know. They’d never let me do this, and then I’d never find out what happened to my real mom. You made a vow not to say anything. I’m okay with you dropping out, but please keep your promise to me.” When she looks up at me with her eyes all watery, my gut turns to mush.

  I wrap an arm around her shoulder. “I didn’t say anything about dropping out. It’ll be fine. I’ll be careful. I promise.” Without thinking, I bundle her close and kiss her forehead.

  The second I do it, I’m paralyzed. Laney and I don’t have the kind of friendship where we hug or kiss. Hell, we don’t even touch when we pass the salt at dinner. My arms tense like wood around her back, and I hold my breath waiting for her reaction. I’m a mannequin trapped in a pose while my brain scrambles to come up with a joke I can crack when she pushes me away.

  Only she never does.

  She nestles inside my arms instead. It’s obvious she’s lost in thought about something, but she still seems pretty damn comfortable.

  And so am I.

  I’m not used to girls touching me. Well, not like this anyway. I’m blown away by how different this feels. Lying here all peaceful, with uptight Delaney Shanahan all soft and cuddly, snuggling me like a body pillow.

  I allow myself to exhale. My hand rests on the center of her back, rising and falling with her even, steady breaths. Her body forms to mine, and I catch a whiff of that lavender stuff again. She lies in a daze with her hand resting over the scar on my chest.

  “Stay right there,” I say, sitting up. “I’m cold. I’m just gonna grab a shirt real quick.”

  “No.” She nudges me back against the pillow, trapping my eyes with hers. “I’ve seen them before,” she whispers. “They don’t bother me.”

  She lowers her head to my chest again and rides her finger over the raised scar that sits over my heart. I reach for her fingers, but she gently nudges my hand aside. “It looks like an S,” she says.

  “It is. For Superman.”

  She laughs softly and traces over the scar again. “How did you get this, Talan?”

  I stumble over my words. “I … I’ve told you. On a playground when I was little.”

  “No,” she says quietly, without looking at me. “How did you really get it?”

  I’d push her away, but it feels too good, like I’ve been starving for her touch. Her fingers glide warm and tender over my bare skin. That ticklish “S” is totally screwing with me. My nerve endings are whipped into a frenzy. I try to think of something besides her, but it’s too late. My body is painfully aware that I’m lying half-dressed and alone in my bed with Laney, her hands running over my bare chest and her warm curves molded to mine behind a locked door.

  Maybe I should try that kiss again, only this time …

  “Talan?”

  Laney jerks her head up.

  “Please tell me it was you that just said my name,” I whisper.

  Terror colors her cheeks as she slowly shakes her head from side to side.

  “Talan? Are you in there with Laney?” It’s Mom Shanahan.

  Laney jumps up and yanks me off the bed so hard that I land on the floor with a thud.

  “Yes, we’re in here!” Laney yells a little too enthusiastically. “You can come in, Mom. We’re not doing anything.”

  Mom jiggles the knob, but the door won’t open. “Why is this door locked?” she shouts.

  “Oh fug!” Laney trips over my backpack in her rush to open it.

  She reaches it about the same time I notice that the map and the Sevens’ clue are still spread out on my bed. I dive across the mattress, scrambling to bury the papers under my bedspread before Mom sees them.

  When her mother walks in, I’m sprawled bare-chested across my bed, sweating profusely and trying to smooth out my tangled sheets and crumpled comforter. Laney stands next to the doorway, gnawing nervously on her thumbnail. Her hair is mussed and her face is redder than a sunburn.

  I’m not sure what it looks like we were doing, but from the expression on Mom’s face, she isn’t giving us the benefit of the doubt anymore.

  Ah shit.

  Twenty-six

  “You two. In my office. Now!”

  Mom’s voice is calm, but not a relaxed calm. More like the calm-inside-the-eye-of-a-hurricane calm. My neck and back tense as I yank a T-shirt over my head and follow her through the house to her office.

  Marcus and Juan are talking in the kitchen when we pass. Marcus takes one look at Mom and his eyebrows skyrocket. He looks sidelong at me and mouths, “What happened?”

  Mom turns into her office and points to two chairs, which we sit in like soldiers. The click from her shutting the door sounds like the door of a death-row cell sliding into place.

  She says nothing as she paces back and forth in front of us, rubbing her hands together. I know her. She’s mentally running through every child psychology seminar she’s ever attended to figure out how to handle this. Meanwhile, my brain wrestles to think of an excuse for why we were in my bedroom with the door locked.

  “You can stop freaking out,” Laney blurts out. She looks her mom straight in the eyes. “I’m not hooking up with Talan.”

  Mom’s shoulders relax some. Thank God one of us has a reputation for honesty.

  “Start talking,” Mom says.

  Laney leans forward in her chair. “I’m telling you the truth. Talan and I are friends, that’s all. I’m with Kollin, so lighten up already.”

  Her mother leans her butt against the desk and studies us. “I know something is going on with you two.”

  You’re right. It’s called the Society of Seven.

  I shrug my shoulders and play dumb. “What are you talking about? Nothing’s going on.”

  Mom’s fingers grip the edge of the desk as she stares us down. “I’ve noticed you two spending a lot more time together lately. And, well, it’s only natural that the two of you might be finding yourselves attracted to each other.”

  When Laney rolls her eyes, Mom says, “Are you going to tell me I’m imagining this? Every time I turn around, you two are alone together, whispering and touching each other.”

  “Right.” I choke out a laugh. “Now you’re definitely imagining things. Laney and I are spending time together because Professor Solomon assigned us to do a group project together. We’re hanging more, but it’s not romantic. We’re just friends.”

  She gives me her yeah, right look.

  I look her straight in the eyes and hold up my hand. “I swear to you, there’s nothing physical going on between us. If I’m lying, may I never play football again.”

  She taps her fingers on the desk. “Then why was the door locked?”

  “We were talking about some personal things, that’s all,” Laney insists.

  Mom crosses her arms. “What could be so personal that you need that kind of privacy?” She waits for me to answer, but I flounder to come up with an excuse.

  Laney blurts out, “You’re pretty nosy for someone who thinks it’s okay to keep secrets f
rom other people.”

  Mom flinches, then glances uncomfortably between Laney and me. There’s an awkward period of silence where I pretend that I have no idea what they’re talking about.

  Mom’s jaw clenches. “Answer the question.”

  Laney exhales loudly. “Talan was sharing some things that are stressing him out, okay? If anything, you should be happy about that. You’ve been telling him since he was little to communicate his feelings. Well, he’s finally talking to someone about stuff that’s troubling him. Instead of jumping to conclusions, you should be encouraging that.”

  “What would Talan be so upset about that he needs to talk to you behind a locked door?”

  I’ve pretty much accepted the fact that I’m gonna be grounded until graduation when, all of a sudden, Laney announces, “He’s realizing his time at Singer is running out, and he’s freaking about it. He’s scared because he’s gonna be homeless after graduation.”

  Mom jerks her head toward me like she might be buying it. “You are?”

  Shitshitshit. What is Laney thinking? Why couldn’t she tell her I had an STD or a meth addiction or something? Now Mom’s going to expect me to talk about my feelings and emotions and crap. I’d rather she thought I impregnated the pompon squad.

  “Talan.” Mom’s voice gets all babyish. “Is this true? Did you tell Laney you’re worried about where you’re going to be next year?”

  “Well, yeah, but—”

  Laney talks over me. “Singer expects students to move on once they graduate. But for Talan, this is the only home he’s got. He has no idea what he wants to do, but he knows he isn’t welcome here come June. It’s like he’s being abandoned all over again. Only this time it’s Singer School that’s throwing him out.”

  My chest tightens. I never said those words aloud, but somehow Laney heard them. They make me feel seven years old and alone and shitty, all over again.

  I’m angry and nauseated, but I can’t deny anything without getting us in worse trouble.

  “I’m sorry, Talan. That is a lot to deal with.” Mom rubs her forehead. “I should have anticipated this. Your counselor contacted Dad and me because you won’t make any decisions regarding college next year.” She shakes her head. “I’ve always said that Singer should handle transitioning differently.” As she moves in front of me, my eyes hopscotch around the room to avoid hers.

  “I’ll discuss this with Dad and we’ll sit down and talk about it,” she says. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’re not being abandoned. You’re starting a wonderful new phase in your life, that’s all. This will always be your home.”

  I can’t look at her.

  “Okay, Talan?”

  I nod and stand up to leave, but she blocks me before I get anywhere. “Wait. We’re not done yet.” She gently nudges me back into the chair, then leans back against the desk again, drumming her fingertips on the front edge.

  The tone in her voice has shifted from anger to compassion to fear all in the same minute. “I still need to warn you two against spending so much time alone together. Even if it is innocent, I can’t help feeling that there’s something developing between you two.”

  Yeah. Unfortunately, it’s a secret society.

  When Laney rolls her eyes again, Mom reaches out and squeezes her wrist. “You listen to me.” She gives Laney a fevered glare. “Singer School made an exception allowing us to houseparent boys with a daughter in the house. That’s only because we were already fostering boys when Laney was born, and there weren’t any openings in the girl homes. But every year, we sit in our review and we’re drilled on what precautions we take to separate you from the boys. The administration takes this stuff very seriously. Issues like teen pregnancy and sexual abuse are serious concerns, particularly for schools like Singer.”

  “I know that.” Laney’s voice is quiet and sincere. “We get it.”

  “Then you also know that the administration would have to remove Talan from our home if they suspected you two were romantically involved. I want you both to think about that for a minute. There aren’t any openings right now in any of the senior high homes, which means Talan would have to be referred out to Child Services. That could get complicated.”

  She looks directly at me. “You’re eighteen now. I’m not sure they could even place you in foster care at this point. That means your greatest fear could come true—you’d end up alone and homeless.”

  My throat tightens. The idea of getting kicked out before graduation leaves a sick sadness in my stomach.

  “You don’t have anything to worry about.” Laney’s face is pale. Her voice shakes when she says, “I would never let that happen.”

  “Good. I’m counting on that,” her mother says.

  I stand up again and Mom snares me in a huge bear hug. Trapped in her arms, I lean my chin on her shoulder and glare at Laney. She misreads my eyes and gives me the thumbs-up sign.

  Mom pulls back and grips my shoulders. “Talan Michaels, you will always be part of this family. Dad and I will make some time this week and we’ll have a long talk about your feelings and concerns. We’ll work through this together. I don’t want you worrying. Okay?”

  “Ummm … ” I nod. “Sure.”

  Mom tousles my hair and nudges me out the door. She calls to Laney, “It’s your night to help with dinner. You should probably get going on that.”

  Laney follows her mom out. As she passes me, she whispers, “Remember. The woods. Six-thirty.”

  Twenty-seven

  After dinner, Laney leaves to “hang with Kollin.” I load the last plate in the dishwasher and announce that I’m going to work out.

  As I head out to meet her on the path behind the library, my chest and muscles tighten with each step. This time, it has nothing to do with the Sevens. Laney’s conversation with Mom replays in my head and I can feel the anger seeping from my pores.

  I opened up to Laney in a weak moment, and she blabbed it. This is why I don’t let people in. I’m not some helpless headcase, and I’m sure as hell not going to be her latest charity project. I’ll be on my own in a year and I’ll handle it fine myself.

  I swallow back the lump in my throat. Damn it, I will not lose it now. Especially in front of Laney. Why the hell did I ever open my mouth?

  When she sees me approach on the path, Laney rises from the log she was sitting on. “I’m nervous,” she says. “I don’t have a good feeling about tonight.”

  “Why did you say that?” I blurt out.

  “It’s just a feeling.” Laney turns and starts walking the trail.

  “No!” I grab her arm. “To Mom. Why did you say all that stuff about me being homeless and”—the word catches in my throat—“abandoned.”

  Laney’s preoccupied, checking out the landscape for security. I wave my hand in front of her face to get her attention. “The stuff I told you was personal. It’s nobody’s business but mine. You had no right telling anyone that.”

  Her head cocks back. “What’s the big deal? I was backed into a corner. I couldn’t tell her about the Sevens, and it was the only other thing I could think of. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. This is why I never open up to people. They always screw me. Thanks a lot.”

  Her posture stiffens. “I didn’t screw you. I didn’t know what else to say, and—”

  “Why couldn’t you make something up? Shit, Laney. Tell her I got someone pregnant. Tell her I have an eating disorder, or, I don’t know, tell her I’m a cutter. Whatever.”

  She shakes her head. “Are you serious?”

  “What were you thinking? Can you at least leave me with my pride? Are you trying to ruin my reputation here?”

  Her expression goes from worried to pissed. “Your reputation as what?” She gets in my face. “An idiot? What’s your problem anyway? It’s okay to say you got someone pregnant, but not that you’re scared about your future?”

  “Damn it, Shanahan!” I slam my fist on a tree. “Now Mom’s going to exp
ect me to rehash everything I’m feeling. She’s going to drill me on every worry and thought I have about college and crap.”

  “What’s wrong with that? She’s trained to help kids deal with stuff like this. She’ll help you feel better.”

  “Talking doesn’t make things better, Laney. You’d know that if your life wasn’t so damn perfect. You with your perfect family and your perfect life and your perfect boyfriend.”

  “Perfect?” Laney screams, jutting her jaw at me. “I’m so sick of that word! You throw it around like a curse. If you only knew. My family, my boyfriend, my life—none of it’s perfect. There’s no such thing as perfect. If you look close enough, there’s a hole in everything. Of course, you don’t get close enough to anything to know that, do you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I have tons of friends.”

  “Yeah, but you still keep your distance, don’t you? I know more about you than any of them, and that’s only because we grew up together. Let people in. Let people help you, Talan.”

  “Don’t you get it?” I ball my hands into fists. “How is letting people get close supposed to make me feel better? Everyone leaves me eventually … even here. The only family I have is dismembered the moment they hand me my diploma. You and my friends will scatter to colleges and trade schools and lives that don’t include me anymore.”

  “Then come to college too.”

  “How? They don’t give scholarships for C’s. And how am I supposed to get loans with no parents to co-sign? After I graduate, there aren’t any more dead benefactors to look out for me. To buy my clothes and books and pay for tutors when I get behind.”

  “Your counselor can hook you up with loans and grants. Maybe get you a job on campus.”

  “Don’t you think I thought of that? I’d have to work full time. College is going to be hard enough for me. How am I supposed to work that much and take classes and figure everything else out on my own? I’m not smart like you.”

  “Bull. The problem isn’t that you’re dumb. It’s that you’re scared.”

  “No kidding.” I’m practically shaking now. “You think I like admitting that, Laney? That I know that this is the best my life is ever going to be? That after Singer, I’ll be a nothing again?”