Indelible (38 page)

“Well maybe with a chisel. Bronze is softer than iron, but the key still might get bent up. You might be able to heat it off.”

“With a blow torch?” Steve rubbed his hands together.

“I know you love power tools, but let’s make sure that’s what we need.” Cherie chewed on the eraser of her pencil. “Wouldn’t that melt the key?”

“It shouldn’t. Bronze melts at about a thousand degrees less than iron. If we could put a torch on it and get a pry bar underneath it, it should come out pretty easy.”

“So what do I need to buy to pull this off?”

“Nothing, my dad has all of the tools we’ll need. I bet my mom would bring them to me if I told her it was for a school project. She was planning on visiting me tomorrow night anyway. I’ll give her a call.”

Steve removed the magnet and handed it back to Audrey. I hoped our plan worked. Destruction of school property could endanger all of our futures if we got caught.

v

Travis called the next night to let us know his mom had dropped off the supplies. We made plans to meet outside the dorms at two in the morning.

Travis carried the torch and tanks, while Steve carried the two stepladders. Audrey took her position at the bottom of the stairs while I tiptoed to the top, each of us assigned as the lookouts. While Cherie and Steve set up the ladders, Travis donned his dark glasses and turned the valves on his torch. With a pop, the torch ignited, lighting up the area in its white-bluish light. I cringed as the roaring hiss of the flame filled the quiet night. I did a quick visual search of my assigned area and gave Travis a thumb’s up sign, to let him know we were still in the clear.

Even though I had dressed in layers, I was still cold. I pulled my beanie further down of my head, making sure my ears were covered. Travis hurried up his ladder, trailing hoses, while Steve put on his dark glasses and climbed the other. Cherie stood below them like a surgery nurse, ready to hand up whatever they needed. As Travis played the flame evenly across the key, Steve held the large screwdriver close, ready to start prying it off as soon as Travis thought it was hot enough.

It seemed to take forever, even though it probably had only been a few minutes. I thought my head might twist off as I tried looking everywhere at once. The wind stirred, carrying the sweet smell of orange blossoms.

Finally, Travis’s whispered “Now!” carried across the quad and Steve plunged the screwdriver under the key’s edge, prying it loose. He caught it in his gloved hand and descended the ladder, passing the red-hot key from hand to hand like a hot potato. Travis twisted the knobs again and the night went dark and silent. Steve dropped the key into a waiting metal toolbox.

The statue now sported a blackened cavity in its chest, smoke still rising into the night sky. I hoped it would be a while before the school noticed. Cherie carried the toolbox while the rest of us shuffled along to Travis’s car where we hid all of his supplies.

Travis took the key with him to his room so he could clean it up. He promised to bring it back to us in the morning cleaned, cooled, and ready for use.

v

The following night Steve, Cherie and I took the key and snuck into the old pool room. The room still swam in a flood of grief, just as it had when we’d talked to Sophia.

The blueprints Cherie had found said the room should be underneath the landing of the stairs at the head of the pool. We crept down the stairs, each carrying a flashlight. Steve wore a backpack and I had the key nestled in the inside pocket of my woolen jacket.

Cherie panned her high-powered flashlight all along the stairs. We stood next to the old diving board, examining where the schematic said the room should be.

My eyes rested on the glass murals behind the pool depicting the swimming swans. Between them, about the width of a door, was a section of tile.

“I think it’s right here,” Steve said, tapping the tile with his knuckles.

“The tile has never been re-worked or anything so there has to be a secret switch or lever or something,” Cherie said, moving her flashlight all around the outside edge. “Well, let’s start looking.”

We felt along the tile, the murals, the stairs, and even the diving board, but found nothing.

“What now?” I asked Cherie.

“No idea.”

Steve gave us a grin. “Time for plan B.” He unzipped the backpack and pulled out three huge hammers.

“I love you!” Cherie threw herself into his arms and peppered his face with kisses. Steve was bright red when she finished.

Only my best friend would consider the means for a possible felony charge romantic. We each picked a hammer and looked at each other.

Steve gave us a formal bow and swept his hand toward the wall. “Ladies first.”

Cherie hoisted up a sledgehammer and swung it into the tile between the two murals. The tile cracked and pieces crumbled to the ground. She swung again. I took a turn, during which they both kept their distance. Aware of my clumsiness, I wasn’t offended. Finally, Steve took a few good whacks at it, and soon there was a hole big enough to see through. We stopped and shone the light in.

“There’s a door handle!” Cherie said. She stretched one of her skinny arms through the hole and twisted it. “It’s locked, but that’s okay. We have the key.” The three of us, mostly Steve, took turns getting rid of the tile until the full door was visible. The metal door was colder to the touch than ice.

I handed the key to Cherie, who slid it into the lock. She turned it—and nothing. “It doesn’t work.”

“May I?” Steve took a turn at it too, but without any success either. “It won’t budge.”

“That isn’t possible!” I pushed him aside and tried it myself. Cherie shone the flashlight on the knob. While the key fit perfectly, the keyhole had a large area that was empty, like a mirror image of itself.

“Now what?” Cherie asked.

“I have no idea.”

“Let me try something.” Steve got on his knees and took the key out. He turned it upside and it fit into the other half of the lock. “It fits but it looks like it needs two keys.”

“It needs both keys?” I asked, hoping I had heard wrong.

“It does.” Cherie frowned. “You have to talk to DJ.”

v

The next day I waited for DJ outside the cafeteria at lunch.

He spoke first. “Hey, Cupcake. They have a few questions for you. Tonight at eight.”

“I’m not interested in talking to them.” I folded my arms. “I need to talk to you.”

“How has Brent been feeling?”

“Fine,” I lied even though they must already know the truth.

“Really? So he hasn’t been missing school for doctor appointments recently?”

He had missed almost all of last week, but he was back now. DJ stuck his hand in his pocket and lowered his voice. “They know you have it.”

My spit caught in my throat. “I don’t have anything.”

I led him to a grouping of chairs.

“They saw the defaced statue.”

I sat down on a comfortable armchair upholstered in worn leather and hid my shaking hands under my thighs. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” he said trailing behind me. “And I need it.”

His admission caught me off guard so I made one of my own. “So do I.”

“So you can save your boyfriend’s life.” He stuck his thumbs under the straps of his backpack. “You should understand that I have my own loved one who needs saving.”

“Who?” I already had my suspicions, but needed to hear him admit it.

“Amy, alright? It’s Amy.” He pulled at a loose thread on his backpack. “She was your friend too. Don’t you care about her?”

I remembered his beautiful little sister with her infectious grin, compared to the sickly girl I had seen at the hospital.

“Now you understand. I need that second key too. If I have both, I can really get them to deal. Maybe we can work something out for Brent, too.”

“You need to think before you hand either one of them over to those guys.” I spoke slowly, letting my words seep into him. He had to think logically, not act rashly. “Don’t you want to know why they want it?”

“Who cares? Protecting Amy is the only thing that matters.”

“Do you really think it will end there?” He couldn’t honestly believe that. I’d only met the group a few times and I knew better than that. Not to mention, it was in every movie and book out there. The bad men break their word. You can’t trust them.

“I will have a huge bargaining chip.” He drummed his fingers against his chest. He sounded frantic. “This is my way out. If you give me the key, I’ll make sure you and Brent are part of the deal too.”

I wiped my sweaty palms on my black skirt. “If you let me borrow your key, I will give them both to you when I’m done.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“If you’re planning on giving the keys to the Clutch and thinking that’s the end of it, then yes.” I took a deep breath and gave him a persuasive grin. “DJ, I need them both for one day, and after I’m done, I’ll give them both to you for your bargaining chip.”

He sat down on the arm of my chair. “I’ll deal, with one condition. You have to let me come with you.”

“No, that option isn’t on the table.”

He hunched his shoulders. “Fine. Then you can’t use my key. I warned you to stay away from them, but you didn’t listen. I didn’t have anyone to warn me, but you did. You got yourself involved you can get yourself out.”

His sudden shift in attitude left me breathless and I slid back in my chair, distancing myself from him.

He sighed and I wanted to believe he had true regret in his eyes. “Yara, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s just, it’s Amy. I care about you. I do. . . but it’s doesn’t matter. It’s my fault she’s in this mess. And even as much as I care about you, I’d pick her every time.”

With that he strode away, leaving me adrift like a helium balloon released on a windy day.

Chapter Nineteen

I meant it when I told DJ I had no intention of meeting with the Clutch again. But Brent had another nosebleed at lunch and my worry for him made me reconsider my decision. It was almost like the Clutch read my mind, because that afternoon I had received a note in my mailbox informing me they wouldn’t be projecting and I should come in my body. It wasn’t signed, but stamped with emblem of the Clutch. This would be the first time I would meet them with my body and not just in astral form. I didn’t know why, but the idea of not projecting during the meeting frightened me.

When I entered the meeting room I noticed Mr. Crosby no longer hid in the shadows with the rest of the Clutch, although he still wore his hooded robe “We’re happy to see you Miss Silva. We are disappointed, however, that you didn’t immediately turn over the key. We will take it now.”

I seemed to have lost my ability to speak, because I didn’t say anything.

“Very well. In light of Mr. Springsteed’s medical condition, I thought you’d be interested in working with us.”

“No. As a matter of fact, I’m not.” I studied one of the golden candelabras. My voice was full of accusation. “Your cure didn’t work.”

The room filled with laughter. “Oh, but it does work. But it isn’t a one-time treatment.”

“And you failed to mention this before?” Dread slithered through me because I knew where this was headed.

“Miss Silva. We are men of business.” He leaned back in his chair. “You never asked before if it was an ongoing or a one-time treatment.”

“Oh,” I said. “Obviously the fault lies with me.” Apparently I could still snark a little.

“Let’s not waste time placing blame.”

“I’m not interested,” I said before standing. I was too tempted to stay.

“We thought you might say that. But there’s something you really must see before you go.”

He opened a laptop on the table in front of him. He hit play, and a video of Cherie, Steve, Travis, Audrey and me stealing the key from the statue danced on the screen in front of me. “And now? I have friends at Columbia and Stanford who might be interested in this video. Destruction of school property is a pretty serious offense. Please sit back down.”

I felt faint as the blood rushed from my face. It seemed like time slowed around me as I considered all the possibilities. And what refusing them would mean. I had been concerned about what they could do to Brent, and to me, but now all of my friends’ futures hung in the balance, as well. Cherie, Steve, Travis, and Audrey, all of them were involved because of me, and now I was responsible for all of them.

“What would you want me to do?” I dropped into the chair like a sack of potatoes.

“Finally you talk reason.” He closed his computer. “First we need the key.”

“Is that all?” I asked between clenched teeth.

He steepled his fingers together. “No, then we would need you to look into Judge Gutierrez’s office. Find any of the notes he’s been taking on his most recent case.”

“You want me to break in somewhere and spy on someone?”

Mr. Crosby nodded. He motioned toward his laptop. “Is that really anything different than what you’ve already been doing? Like the night you broke into the school’s record room? We have video of that as well.”

“But those were matters of life and death.”

“So is this.”

“But. . .” I didn’t bother finishing my sentence. This felt different. This felt wrong. I knew it didn’t matter to him, so instead I asked. “How many treatments will Brent need?”

Mr. Crosby smiled at me like he was conceding a point. He lifted up a large green glass bottle with an unusual s-shape to it, filled with a thick liquid. “He’ll need to take it the rest of his life. His condition is chronic.”

Was that the cure? I was tempted to grab it from his fingers and make a run for it. He must have seen the intention in my eyes because he pulled it closer to him. My eyes never left the bottle.

“So that means that I’ll have to keep earning them from you?”

“Yes.”

And that was the catch: a lifetime of servitude. I would always have to do their bidding. But what happened if I said no? Could I really do it? Could I really turn them down and ruin all my friends’ lives for my own personal freedom? If I said no, would Brent die? Was my integrity worth it? Lives would be ruined because of my choice, either way.