The Liar Society Part 22

"The Latin holds the key," I reminded the boys, but mainly Liam. Seth and I stood back as he began working his magic, sizing up the bronze letters.

But when we heard the m.u.f.fled thump of a hatch shutting, we whipped our heads in the direction of the sound.

"Let's get out of here!" I bolted up the stairs and sprinted down the long hallway, praying that this time I could lead the team out. Lines of light from the sconces filled my peripheral vision as I ran, and I remembered a song I'd heard in Liam's car about light guiding a person home.

The end of the tunnel loomed before us. We rushed up a set of stairs and met a door, this time with a handle. As my fingers wrapped around the heavy iron, I said a quick prayer that the door was unlocked and pushed. Never in all my life had I felt such relief at the give of a door. The door thumped as it hit the ground above, and I stole a quick glance back before letting the daylight wash over me. We were safe. For now.

Chapter 48.

Sleep was hard to come by again that night. The memory of the tunnels and the secrets behind the carved door haunted me. I felt like all the pieces were laid out in front of me, but I still couldn't quite put them together. I knew that once I figured out how the big picture looked, I'd be able to see the truth about Grace and the secret of the fire. And if I could just figure out the truth, there might finally be justice.

I scooted up against my headboard and adjusted the pillow behind my back. And there she was. Moonlight shone through the window, illuminating her silhouette as she sat on my window seat. As usual, her back was to me. She had her legs curled beneath the familiar Pemberly Brown plaid skirt. Her straight, dark hair hung to the middle of her back. Surprisingly, I wasn't scared of her this time, just curious. Maybe I was too tired to be afraid.

Barely breathing, I pulled back the duvet covering my legs and lowered them to the floor, trying not to make a sound. I walked toward her slowly, my arm outstretched. I wanted to touch her. To feel her. To finally figure out if she was real or just some figment of my imagination. Just as my fingers were about to graze her shoulder, I opened my eyes.

I wasn't near the window at all, but in my bed. I must have fallen asleep. Turning to my side, I pulled my hand up under my cheek and stared out the window. She was gone. Or maybe she was never there in the first place.

My room had brightened, the moonlight mixing with the glow from my computer screen. I pulled the covers down, for real this time, and tiptoed to my desk. I had another new message.

To: [email protected] Sent: Fri 1:30 AM From: Subject: (no subject) You found the 13th.

But we're out of time.

Come back the night of the dance.

Alone.

I'll be waiting.

I read the last line a few times and felt a wave of b.u.t.terflies. I tried to remind myself I was seeking justice, not an impossible resurrection. But no matter how hard I tried, a tiny spark of hope remained. A spark that lived in whatever lobe of my brain was run completely by emotion. And sometimes I'd even fanned the spark a little and started a small fire, convincing myself that everyone was wrong, that the funeral was fake and that Grace was alive, hidden away and waiting for me to find her.

I had no idea what would be waiting for me inside the headquarters, and I wasn't even sure if I'd be able to get in. But I'd find a way. I'd find a way because she'd asked me to. And I'd go alone because that's what Grace wanted.

Chapter 49.

If I was a normal girl, I would have spent hours picking out the perfect dress and coordinating accessories for Homecoming. If I was a normal girl, I would have booked an appointment to get my hair done with friends and then headed over to someone's house to jockey for a spot at the mirror and giggle over eyeliner and body glitter. If I was a normal girl, I'd have had b.u.t.terflies in my stomach as I waited and wondered what type of corsage my date would bring and whether or not he'd kiss me good night.

But I was not a normal girl.

I spent the Sat.u.r.day of the Homecoming dance rearranging the letters in the words Audi, Vide, Tace in an attempt to create a comprehensive list of possible pa.s.swords. I couldn't ask Liam for help, because Grace had specifically said to come alone. Besides, this was something I had to do on my own. Feeling fairly confident about my list, I folded it into my clutch and decided to focus on my next problem. Finding something to wear.

I pulled on a pink strapless dress from our Sadie Hawkins dance two years earlier. Not only did it clash with my hair, but apparently I had grown, because it barely covered my b.u.t.t. I tried rearranging Grace's pearls a few times in an effort to bring the eyes up. Not happening. The s.l.u.tty look worked well for Hollywood starlets and girls hanging out on street corners, but I decided it might be best to attempt a slightly more subtle fas.h.i.+on statement for my first Homecoming dance.

After yanking the pink dress off, I dug into the back of my closet for the dress I'd worn to the New Year's Eve gala my parents had forced me to attend the year before. I bent over, pleased that my b.u.t.t was still covered, and sat on my bed waiting for two dates instead of just one.

I had b.u.t.terflies in my stomach. But not because I was worried about which date I'd kiss. I was a little more focused on figuring out the pa.s.sword into the underground lair of a secret society to meet my dead best friend.

Yeah, I was definitely not a normal girl.

When I finally heard the doorbell ring, I ran downstairs as fast as my fabulous gold heels would take me and found Liam and Seth squirming on my front porch. Technically, we had decided to go as a group to monitor any potential Brotherhood-Sisterhood activities, but I had to admit this whole threesome thing was getting a little tired.

"You look..." Seth began but appeared to be at a loss for words.

"Hot. I think the word you're looking for is hot," Liam finished for him.

I swear I'm not one of the "oh, this old thing?" type of girls. It's just that my old dress happened to be a slinky black number. And Grace's pearls spilled down the center of the V-shaped neckline, setting off the cut of the thin material. Guess sometimes that whole effortless beauty thing actually worked out. Good to know.

After a painfully awkward photo session with my parents and the Allens (Mrs. Allen couldn't stop crying and blowing her nose), the three of us piled into Liam's Jeep, an unlikely trio as we bounced down the road toward Pemberly Brown.

Seth's suit was approximately ten sizes too big (is it just me, or can you hear his mom saying, "We want it a little big, honey, so you'll have something nice to wear to all those college interviews. I'm sure that a growth spurt is just around the corner..."), and his red curls had been tamed by some serious man-product. Liam, on the other hand, wore a fitted, three-b.u.t.ton corduroy blazer and dark jeans. He looked like he was going to a hip club opening in New York City instead of a school dance.

But when Seth opened the door for me and Liam held my hand to help me down, I smiled. I couldn't help but stand a little straighter and hold my head a little higher as I walked with the two of them at my side. Seth was like the brother I'd never had. Well, aside from the fact that he was constantly asking me out.

And Liam, as guilty as it sometimes made me feel, reminded me how to be happy. He gave me chills when he touched me and filled me up with that I-need-to-kiss-this-boy-or-I-will-die type of feeling. Which was dramatic, yes, but also the best feeling in the world.

Pausing before the double doors that opened to the gym, I looked down at Seth and up at Liam and looped an arm through each of theirs. We had arrived.

The dance was in full swing as we pushed through the doors. Girls wore barely there dresses that probably required a few rolls of double-sided tape to keep things PG-13. Their necks were adorned with their dates' discarded ties. The boys were already starting to sweat through their b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rts, their blazers carelessly strewn about the floor.

When you mix a Mardi-Gras-themed dance with teenage hormones, the result is a combination of girls who look largely like underage prost.i.tutes and overs.e.xed boys who dangle copious amounts of beads in hopes of finding a girl drunk enough (or s.l.u.tty enough) to flash them. There were plenty of both. In short, it was every parent's worst nightmare. Something the school administrators might want to consider next time they blindly approve one of Beefany's or Taylor's dance themes.

The three of us found seats on the bleachers, which had been decorated to look like a huge Mardi Gras float, and watched the chaos of Homecoming unfold from the sidelines.

"Any society sightings?" Seth asked between sips of punch, an anxious look on his face.

"No, I don't think the future queen and king have made their entrance just yet." I guess it goes without saying that Taylor and Alistair had been elected third-year Homecoming attendants this year. I, for one, was really looking forward to seeing them dance together. I was almost 100 percent positive they hated each other. Almost.

"Oh, they're here," Liam said. "Over there by the Bourbon Street sign."

I followed Liam's line of vision and surveyed Taylor and her groupies. They all wore the same dress in different colors. Taylor's was a pale baby pink. With her white-blond hair in a low bun, she reminded me of a ballerina. Beefany couldn't have contrasted more. She towered over Taylor in a bright turquoise version of the dress, which set off her olive skin and dark features.

Maddie stood hunched over in bright red, crossing her arms over her chest and looking like she wanted to melt into the floor and disappear. The rest of the girls wore orange, yellow, and purple. They looked like a flock of exotic birds. Of course, knowing these birds, it was only a matter of time before they went all Alfred Hitchc.o.c.k on the place.

At that moment, Taylor looked directly at me. It was as though she could read my mind.

"Bradley and Alistair are here." Liam nodded toward the double doors. Sure enough, the boys had arrived in style. They each had two first-year dates, one for each arm, and they looked very pleased with themselves.

I watched Naomi nudge Taylor and point at her brother. Taylor gave them a quick look and began moving across the dance floor. Beefany and three others quickly flew after her. Guess even high-school birds tended to move in flocks.

"Come on guys. Let's take a lap." I dragged my dates up off the bleachers, and we began to wind our way around Bourbon Street. I wanted to get a better view of whatever was about to go down on the court.

I was so focused on Taylor's purposeful strides toward Alistair that I didn't see Headmaster Sinclair until I literally ran right into him.

"Oh! Sorry." I felt the color drain from my cheeks as I met his sharp eyes.

"Lovely to see you tonight, Ms. Lowry. I was just heading to the refreshment table. Care to join me?" His smile made me edgy.

I exchanged quick looks with Liam and Seth, but I didn't really have a choice.

"Uh, sure. Of course." I nervously wrapped Grace's pearls around my finger, unwound and rewrapped them, thinking of Elisa Moore and her poor sister, Abigail. The headmaster's brother had been cleared of the charges, but I didn't know what to believe anymore. I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever be able to uncover the truth buried beneath all these years of lies.

I followed him as he walked toward the abandoned refreshment table, trying to figure out exactly how to play this.

"Well, Ms. Lowry, I have to admit I've been a little concerned about you lately."

I did not like where this was heading.

"Really? Um, why?" It was a dangerous question to ask, and I could practically taste the bitterness of regret on my tongue after the words left my mouth.

He poured himself a gla.s.s of punch. "I hear you paid a visit to one of our alumni, Elisa Moore, poor woman. She lost her mind when her sister took her own life years ago."

"I, um...I should really get back to my date..."

"Don't be nervous. We're among friends." He nodded toward Liam and Seth waiting across the dance floor. "I'm just worried about you. I think you might be in over your head."

"Well, you know what they say: Veritas Vos Liberabit. The truth shall set you free." I forced myself to smile brightly.

"Please just be careful, Kate. You might not believe this, but I don't want to see any other students get hurt." He offered a smile, but it never reached his eyes.

Elisa's thin form flashed to the front of my mind, and I thought of his brother, the all-American track star conveniently cleared of all the charges against him. Not to mention Headmaster Sinclair's own name painted on the walls of Brown. No doubt the Brotherhood had a hand in everything. It was all connected.

"You know, Headmaster, thanks to my experiences here at Pemberly Brown, I really feel like I've learned how to take care of myself. But I appreciate your concern."

I wasn't bluffing. I felt strong. I knew that I'd be able to do what I had to do to uncover the truth, to finally save Grace. But as I walked back across the dance floor, back to the safety of Liam and Seth, I was happy I didn't have to do it alone.

Chapter 50.

Well, that was awkward," I said, trying to keep my voice steady in front of my faithful sidekicks. Liam shook his head back and forth, and Seth looked like he might p.o.o.p his pants.

"He's scary," Seth said, eyes wide.

"Not scary. Scared." Liam grabbed my hand. "This is the first time more than one person has been a threat to them. It's easy to silence one guy but not so easy to shut three people up."

I looked at him and smiled.

"They haven't seen anything yet." Just wait until I find proof that the Brotherhood is involved.

Liam smiled at me. "Hey, you want to..."

"Oh, my G.o.d," I said, cutting him off, "is that..." I pointed at the entrance to the dance.

"Cameron," Liam finished for me. Under normal circ.u.mstances I would have been worried we were turning into one of those annoying couples who finished each other's sentences, but that night I was grateful he'd said the name I couldn't.

"What the h.e.l.l is he doing here?" Seth asked. "And where has he been?"

"I don't know, but we need to find out," I said, standing up.

We made our way through the sea of people and tried to keep up with Cameron. He was on a mission, and the crowd appeared to sense his determination, because they parted like the Red Sea to let him through. He came to an abrupt halt right next to Taylor, grabbed her arm, and twirled her around to face him. Her pink dress floated prettily around her thighs.

We hid behind a few fake streetlights and watched the scene unfold.

"We need to talk," Cameron said, eyes darting left and right wildly.

Beefany planted herself between them, protecting her queen. "Oh, Cameron. You're back." She c.o.c.ked her head and sighed dramatically. "Sorry, but you'll have to catch up with Taylor later. We're right in the middle of something. Not a good time."

Cameron grabbed Beefany by the arm and pulled so that her face was mere inches from his own.

"We need to talk. Now," he repeated.

"Fine. Go ahead," Beefany said as if she were bored by the whole tiresome situation.

"In private."

"No, whatever you have to say, you can say it here. In front of everyone. Taylor isn't going anywhere with you alone." Beefany nodded to their audience.

"That's how you want to play it? Fine. I'm done with your lies, your threats. I know the three of you were there that night. I saw you when I was leaving," he said. Maddie took a step away from the crowd, crumpling into herself like a discarded piece of paper.

I wasn't sure how many people in the room knew what night he was talking about, but I felt a collective gasp.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Cameron," Taylor said softly.

Beefany took over again, her voice loud and sharp. "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe I should call a teacher over here. I think all those drugs are really starting to take their toll."

Cameron grabbed Taylor by the arms, and I could already see two angry red welts forming around his fingers. He swore, a droplet of saliva backlit by the strobe lights spinning above us.