Secret of the Sevens

by Lynn Lindquist

  “Kollin and I have never gotten along, but I’d never physically hurt him.”

  “Never? Because every caller mentioned you slamming his head into a locker and threatening him.”

  “We were pushing each other around. It wasn’t a big deal. It’s not the same as beating someone with a metal rod.”

  “How did you know about the metal rod?” Bad Cop says.

  Boyle’s face cringes behind the officer. Another boner move thanks to my stupid mouth.

  “I heard about it this morning. Everyone’s talking about this.”

  “It’s funny they knew that fact when it hadn’t been released.”

  “Well, I’m sure the person who did it knew it. He obviously let it slip.”

  The cop’s eyes close in on mine. “That’s what I was thinking.”

  Good Cop intervenes. “Look at me, Talan.” His voice goes all soft and understanding. “We have a boy who could die any minute. Maybe the person who did it didn’t mean for it to be that bad. Maybe he was pressured by gang members, or it was committed in anger, or accidentally. We have no way of helping that person unless he comes forward and confesses what happened. If he were to share what he knew … well, we could make things easier for him.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know of any gangs at Singer.”

  Good cop makes a disappointed-grandpa sigh. “We believe there are students starting a gang based on the legend of the Sevens. The vandalism, the assault—these are all typical gang behaviors.”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Where were you last night at 8:00?”

  “You said you were gathering information,” Boyle interrupts. “But it sounds like you’re interrogating Mr. Michaels. If that’s the case, then I’m obligated to obtain legal counsel for him.”

  Bad Cop muscles over to Boyle. “We keep trying to interview students here, and you keep interfering. What’s the problem, Headmaster?”

  “The problem is, I don’t want Singer School sued for infringing on Mr. Michael’s rights to due process. I’m wondering why you’re not worried about that too.”

  Good Cop changes the subject. “Let’s try this another way. Did Mr. LeBeau have any enemies?”

  “I wouldn’t know. We weren’t friends.”

  “Would someone have reason to dislike him or want him out of the picture?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I repeat. “We weren’t friends.”

  “But you’re friends with his girlfriend, Delaney Shanahan, aren’t you?”

  I pause to keep my composure. “She’s my housesister.”

  There’s a knock on the door that rescues me. “Excuse me for a minute,” Boyle says.

  He opens the door and his secretary pops her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Kane is calling from his car. He says if you don’t pick up immediately, he’ll be over in twenty minutes to fire our whole staff.”

  “Just what I need.” Boyle rolls his eyes. “Thank you, Rhonda.”

  He closes the door and clicks the phone on. “You’re on speakerphone, Stephen. We’re in the middle of questioning Talan Michaels. Can this wait?”

  “No, it can’t. I don’t like what’s happening at my alma mater. Have they arrested that hoodlum yet?”

  I clench and unclench my fists.

  “They’re just questioning him, Stephen.”

  “Is Officer Lynch there? Paul, are you there?” Kane calls out over the speaker.

  “Hi, Stephen,” Bad Cop replies. “Yes, we’re in the process of investigating last night’s assault.”

  “Did the headmaster inform you about Mr. Michaels’ angry outburst that disrupted an entire assembly earlier this year?”

  “I hardly think that’s relevant,” Boyle murmurs.

  “Is that you, Matthew?” Kane says. “And here I thought we were on the same page about aggressively prosecuting the students destroying our school.” Kane’s voice grows more and more irate. “I’m beginning to seriously question your intentions here. Not to mention your ability to maintain the safety and welfare of the students.”

  “I represent all the students, Stephen. There’s protocol to consider. The police are perfectly capable of uncovering the truth within the guidelines of the law. I have no intention of interfering in their investigation.”

  “Matthew, I’m disappointed you haven’t been more … helpful in your pursuit of the guilty parties.”

  “Maybe I don’t see the benefit in disregarding due process to indict someone. I’m sure the officers would agree.”

  “Is that right?” Kane’s reply is edgy as a machete. “I see how it is,” he says. “Lynch?”

  “Right here,” Bad Cop says.

  “I’d like you to call me with an update when you’re done.”

  Boyle clicks the phone off.

  Good Cop places his hand on my arm. “Talan, I’m going to ask you once. Did you attack Kollin LeBeau last night?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have any reason to want to hurt him? Gang pressure or rivalry or pent-up anger?”

  “No.”

  The cop sits back in his chair.

  Boyle crosses his arms. “I’m no detective, but several things come to mind here. How does a kid like Talan, who can’t leave campus, get access to spray paint? Why would a senior who practically lives for football want to destroy the stadium mid-season? And if there was gang involvement, wouldn’t they be smart enough to have worked out alibis with each other? Maybe these are things you all should be considering.”

  It takes all I’ve got to keep my voice calm. “Can I go now?”

  “Gentlemen, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Boyle says to the cops. “I already wasted yesterday morning hassling Emily Dombrose based on nothing but a malicious anonymous tip. I’m already behind on paperwork from that issue, plus I’ve got meetings with contractors this afternoon to repair the statue and stadium.”

  Lynch glares at Boyle. “Would you have any problem with us checking his locker?”

  Boyle looks at me.

  “That’s fine,” I say. “It’s number 1515.”

  “Okay then.” Boyle stands and opens the door for the officers. “Rhonda, can you get the master key and open Talan’s locker for the detectives? When they’re satisfied, please show them out.”

  She types a code on a security safe and pulls out a key. The officers follow her into the hall. When they’re out of sight, I tug Boyle back into his office and shut the door.

  The words rush out of my mouth. “What did you say to your secretary about a master key?”

  “I had her get it to open your locker. It’s easier than looking up and remembering the combination. That’s how I’ve been leaving you your clues.”

  “I know how the Pillars planted stuff in Emily’s locker yesterday. Last night, I heard Moore tell Kabal that Kane had a master key. They must have stolen it to plant the evidence in Emily and my lockers.”

  “But there’s only one key, and it’s locked up.”

  “Who has the code?”

  “Rhonda, me, and a couple teachers who have authority to act in our absence—Caesar Solomon and Julie Bennett.”

  “Would either of them have any reason to help the Pillars?”

  “I doubt it. Ms. Bennett came to me privately and protested the new Pillar choices. And Professor Solomon is disgusted by the way Kane is interfering with our school.” He pauses and says in a lowered voice. “Unless Professor Solomon slipped and gave it out in a … weak moment.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Consider this part of your vow of secrecy,” Boyle says. “Professor Solomon is … a bit fond of alcohol. I’ve let him stay on at Singer because it’s never affected his job performance during the day. But Carmine Rathbone once warned me that alcohol causes Caesar to do careless things. Maybe he let the code slip to Stephen Kane or the Pillars when he was under the influence. That’s something I’ll need to look into. For now, I better change the passcode.�
��

  I follow him out to the front desk, where he plays with the keypad on the safe. He opens the safe door just as Rhonda returns. “Did you see our friends out?”

  “I did,” she answers. “You never saw two more disappointed people when they didn’t find anything. Are we going to have to do this for every student they get a tip on?”

  “I hope not,” Boyle says. “Here, let me put that back.” He takes the master key and locks it inside the safe. “Can you write Talan a pass to get back to class?”

  She hands me a slip and I go to get my backpack from Boyle’s office.

  I hear Boyle ask, “Did you call Emily Dombrose down?”

  “She should be here any minute,” Rhonda says. “What are you meeting for this time?”

  Boyle stumbles over his words. “I, mmm … why do you ask?”

  “Just wondered.” Then she adds in a hushed voice, “Do you think those two are behind the gang violence?”

  “No!” He says it so loud, everyone turns. Boyle rubs his neck and says more calmly, “I assure you, there is no gang violence at Singer School.”

  “No gang violence, huh?” Stephen Kane storms through the door and pounds his fist on the counter.

  I duck behind the shelves in the alcove to listen.

  “I assure you, there is gang violence,” Kane rants, “whether you are willing to confront it or not.”

  Boyle gives him a cool glare. “The police will determine who’s behind the crimes and handle them appropriately.”

  “It sounds like they’re trying but you keep interfering.”

  Boyle lowers his voice. “How dare you come into my office and criticize me in front of my staff. I’m following procedure here. I’m not going to do something that puts this school into legal jeopardy.”

  “You should be more concerned with your students’ safety, Matthew, not to mention the property damage and bad press for this school and our company. I know I am. In fact, I’ve called an emergency board meeting to discuss it on Thursday.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You know that I’ve had changes in mind for some time. I’ve decided to bring them up for a board vote.”

  “But that’s too fast,” Boyle says.

  “This school is in dire straits. I can’t believe you’re so lackadaisical about the welfare of your students.”

  “How dare you say that! I think you better leave.”

  Kane draws his head back like a serpent poised for attack. “I thought you were on my team,” he says.

  The whole office is watching now, none of them realizing the undertones to what he says.

  “It’s obvious I can’t count on you in my endeavors to improve Singer School,” Kane says. “You aren’t protecting the well-being or the safety of our students.”

  “I’m done listening to your drivel, Mr. Kane.”

  Emily walks in right in the middle of the storm.

  “Emily, please come in,” Boyle says. She marches past him into his office.

  “You have time for this vandal and not for the CEO of Singer Enterprises?”

  “That’s exactly right,” Boyle says, slamming the door in Kane’s face.

  I’ve never seen Headmaster Boyle lose it like that. It was awesome. But I can’t help thinking he’s said too much too. He gave his hand away.

  We really are alike.

  Forty-two

  The rest of the day drags like a dead body. My mind is caught up in one thing—keeping Laney and my friends safe. It’s the only thing I care about until 3:18 p.m., when I trudge up the driveway of my house.

  “Talan!”

  I’m afraid to look. Afraid there’s a fist or threat or egg about to be hurled at me.

  “Talan!” The voice is younger. And surprisingly friendly.

  “Talan!” There’s a tug on my hand and I look down and see Jack Dominguez grinning up at me. I didn’t recognize his voice, probably because he didn’t say a word to me the first time we met. Now he’s all breathless and animated. He squeezes my legs and says, “My best friend Talan is here!”

  Three little boys his age run up next to him, but he says, “I need to talk to Talan. You go and save me a swing.” They pout a second, and he orders them, “Go! I’ll come, I promise.”

  They shuffle off to the park without him, bummed that they lost their ringleader.

  I crouch down to his eye level. “How’s it going, my man?”

  He returns my high five and says, “Greaaat!”

  “So you liking it here?” His head bobs with these huge nods. “I told you, didn’t I?”

  He squeezes my arm with all he’s got and nods some more, his face bursting into a smile. I can’t help ask, “So what’s the best part?”

  He signals for me to lean close and whispers something in my ear.

  “What?” I laugh. “I couldn’t hear you, buddy.”

  He cups his mouth to my ear. “No one hits me here.” He stares up at me with round eyes. Then he shakes his head in case I need convincing. “No one!” he repeats.

  He grabs my bicep and kisses the exact spot where my T scar is buried under three layers of clothing. The irony chills me.

  For the first time since lunch, thoughts of Laney are replaced by something even more important: I have three days to find that TPD.

  I have to find that TPD.

  Forty-three

  The next morning, everyone’s camped in the kitchen when I slink in before school. For once, they’re not gawking at me.

  They’re staring at Mom Shanahan, who’s standing in the phone closet screaming into the receiver as Dad props the door open to listen. Laney catches my eye and lifts her eyebrows.

  “It’s not true!” Mom yells. “The truth will come out, and then I hope he sues for libel. I’ve known Matthew Boyle for over twenty years. He’s a good, decent man and an excellent headmaster.”

  Now I’m staring. I nudge between Chris and Mike to hear better, but Mom slams the phone down. She ricochets around us in a dash for the family room and switches on a news channel.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Shhh,” she says, holding up a finger.

  She turns the volume up as the anchorman says, “The headmaster at Singer School was arrested last night on suspicion of sexual relations with a minor, police reported this morning. Matthew Boyle is being held in the Galesburg Jail in lieu of $265,000 bail. Boyle was taken into custody last night in a wooded area near the 500 block of Rucker Road along with an unnamed seventeen-year-old student, according to Galesburg Police Sergeant Paul Lynch.”

  Mom inhales sharply. “Well, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.”

  The screen switches to Officer Lynch standing beside Stephen Kane outside the police station. Lynch reads from an index card, talking into a mound of microphones shoved in his face. “Police and Child Protective Agencies learned of the relationship yesterday afternoon when two students reported witnessing a romantic encounter between Boyle and a female student. One of the students confronted the girl, who allegedly boasted of sexual relations with the suspect. Investigators staked the property and found the student and Mr. Boyle in the woods at 1:18 in the morning. Both Mr. Boyle and the minor deny the allegations, but have refused to make any further statements. Mr. Boyle is scheduled to be arraigned Friday in Glendale Municipal Court on felony charges of sexual misconduct with a minor.”

  Officer Lynch steps back and Stephen Kane takes center stage. His name appears underneath the caption Spokesman for Singer School. “As a proud alumni of Singer School, the idea that a trusted authority figure would abuse his position to take advantage of a vulnerable child is shocking and disturbing. We commend the students who came forward, as well as Sergeant Lynch and the county’s Child Protective Services Agency, who took immediate and appropriate action as soon as the allegations surfaced. Mr. Boyle has been suspended without pay, pending the outcome of this investigation.”

  I desperately want to talk to Laney, but Marcus is giving me
the evil eye. While my housebrothers debate Mom Shanahan over the likelihood of Boyle’s innocence, I hightail it to school to find Jose and Emily.

  At first, I think Jose must have read my mind. He’s leaning against a locker when I turn down the empty hallway. “So you heard?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Heard what? I’m waiting for Emily. She was supposed to meet me here fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Dude, Headmaster Boyle was arrested last night for having sex with a minor. It was all over the news this morning.”

  “What? Who was the student?”

  “They’re not releasing that.”

  “No way.” Confusion spreads across his face. “Not Boyle. Do you think Kane set him up?”

  “Of course! I don’t have any proof yet, but it’s got to be Kane. He had a huge fight with Boyle in the office yesterday. I heard the whole thing. It’s pretty clear he thinks that Boyle is getting in the way of his plans.”

  “Shhhh,” Jose says, eyeing something behind me.

  When I turn, Cameron and Zack are strutting our way. Cameron snickers and my fists twitch at the sight. “I had a feeling I’d find you here with some of your gang,” he says.

  “What are you talking about?” I say.

  “You and Emily both hanging with Jose all the time? I hardly think that’s a coincidence.”

  I turn my back to him. “Get lost, stalker.”

  “Why so rude?” he says. “And here I was trying to be nice. I wanted to say how sorry I was to hear about your sweetheart.”

  I’m lost until Zack says, “God, how embarrassing to find out that your girlfriend’s been hooking up with the headmaster.”

  Jose jerks his head around. “Are you talking about Emily?”

  “Kayla and Nick caught them pawing each other.” Cameron’s smirk makes me want to puke.

  “Sure they did,” Jose says.

  “Pillars never lie,” Cameron says. “Emily admitted it to Kayla, too. She even bragged that they were meeting last night in the woods. Fortunately, Kayla told the police so DCFS could catch them before it happened again.”

  “Son of a—”

  I grab Jose before he can strangle Cameron.

  “Smart move, Michaels,” Cameron whispers. “You can’t afford to have another Seven in trouble without the headmaster around to protect you anymore. Now that Mr. Kane is taking over the school, your lucky breaks are over.”