Neverland Academy (19 page)

The
outcasts’ amusement faded upon seeing the grim look on Daphne’s face.
Approaching them tentatively, she handed Hangman the email.

“I
don’t know who Sean is, but I assumed it might be one of you.”

Hangman
handed the paper to Toot who read the email quietly while the others watched.

“There
were more emails for all of you, but I didn’t have time to print them. Anyway,
there’s something here I think you all should read.”

Daphne
pulled a handwritten note with a rigid edge on one side, as if it had been torn
from a journal, from Preston’s folder and handed it to Hangman, who read it
aloud.

“There
are five of them now. Six, including Preston. He has connived those boys into
joining his little gang of outlaws. If only they knew he is the reason they
never received word from their parents. Last week I discovered Preston in the
library. He had set up new email accounts in each of the boys’ names and was
communicating with their families by that method, presumably so they would not
be missed. I considered phoning the parents, but how would that make me, and
the academy, look? No. I must keep up this ridiculous façade for the integrity
of this school. I’ve taken over the accounts now. At least that will help me
buy some extra time before the parents find out their children are missing.”

“My
mom wanted me home for Christmas,” Toot murmured. “I could’ve gone home.”

“I
don’t know about you guys,” Shag said. “But I’m ready to go home.”

“Where’s
Preston?” Hangman asked, fury setting his eyes on fire.

Daphne
shrugged. “I don’t know. I told him I was leaving and he just ran off. If you
guys want, you can come with me. My parents can help you all get where you need
to go.”

“Let’s
go boys,” Hangman said sadly. “Get your stuff. We’re going home.”

Chapter
Twenty-One

Captured

Daphne wished she
could have said
goodbye. Yes, she was angry with Finn for lying to her and the others. But he
was still her friend and she didn’t want to leave things as they were. And her
feelings for him were just complicating things more. Did she love him? Was it
just a silly crush? Did he feel anything for her? She didn’t know, and without
talking to him it was like leaving home and not knowing if she’d closed and
locked the door.

They’d
looked all over the tunnels for Finn but he was gone. The only place left to
look was the lake and the cemetery. That was where he went to think, and that
was most likely where he was now. Daphne insisted that she and the boys check
there before they left.

It
was already late in the day and Daphne knew it would be difficult to find her
way home with the darkness settling in earlier in late September. She hadn’t
lived in the area long enough to find her way home on her own. But Hangman
assured her that the boys would stay with her until they found it.
Unfortunately, they would never make it outside the tunnels.

Not
alone, anyway.

Daphne
was seized first. A massive, leather-gloved hand clamped against her mouth as
she tried to catch her breath and a thick, heavy arm squeezed her arms
painfully into her waist. She struggled for a few seconds, but her efforts were
futile. She couldn’t even budge an inch. The dark, hulking figure behind her
must have been three times her size.

Daphne
watched from a dark corner as the other boys were picked off, one by one. It
happened so fast they hardly had time to fight back. Only Trick got a good
punch in before he too was captured. Three flashlights spiraled around
themselves on the floor.

Suddenly
a different light appeared further down the tunnel. Daphne squinted at the
bulky figure holding the lantern. He looked even more repulsive in the warm
glow that cast hideous shadows across his wrinkled face. Tapping his cane
gleefully against the stone floor, Trappe flashed a villainous smirk at Daphne.
He approached her, holding the lantern up to her face. The smug smile made her
stomach turn the closer he came. He was near enough that she could smell pork
and onions in his breath.

“My,
my, my. What have we here?” Instant recognition swept over his face. “Yes, I
thought that was you,” Trappe murmured. “It was hard to see in my bed chamber,
but once I found your photograph in the paper, it was all so clear. Your
parents are awfully worried about you, my dear.”

Daphne
tried to speak, but the solid hand secured to her mouth made it all come out
muffled. With a quick nod of Trappe’s head, the hand slid off and Daphne found
her voice.

“I
was going home tonight. Just let me go,” she said, feigning innocence.

“Let
you go?” Trappe clicked his tongue thrice. “I don’t think so. Clearly you
wanted to be far from your parents’ watchful eyes. Wanted to play in the boys’
roach club. My girl, you cannot join in the fun without paying the price. You
must be taught a lesson. Just as you felt the need to teach your
parents—the people who brought you into this world, who gave you
life—a lesson.”

Trappe
turned his attention to the adults. “Take them to the church.” The boys were
all shoved down the tunnel and the man behind Daphne pushed her forward.

“Not
her,” Trappe barked. “Take her to my chamber and wait for me. We may not have
Preston, but no bait could be more alluring than this.” Daphne squirmed as his
slimy hand grazed her jaw.

***

Finn
sat rigidly, bent over, on the tombstone of “Marjorie Elaine Trappe, Beloved
Wife and Mother.” Cupped in his hand he held a cork that still smelled of
whiskey—a memento from the night he and Daphne robbed Trappe’s private
liquor cabinet. He rolled it between his fingers, trying to remain angry that
Daphne was leaving him, because anger felt much more appropriate than the real
emotions boiling inside him.

How
could she do this? They’d had so much fun together, so many good times. She was
getting along with the outcasts and everybody loved her. And now she wanted to
go home to her parents who’d probably punish her for a year after what she’d
done. How could she find that more desirable than staying here with Finn?

Deep
down, he knew it was entirely his fault, but like his with his affection for
Daphne he kept tossing more dirt on the tomb of buried feelings. He couldn’t
take responsibility for this. He
wouldn’t
.
That would be the
adult
thing to
do. That would mean growing up. An awkward, uncomfortable feeling began to
blossom in the pit of his stomach. Growing up. It made him feel sick, yet as
much as he’d tried he couldn’t deny it. He was almost eighteen. Out in the real
world he would legally be an adult. Even his thoughts and emotions had matured
in the years he’d been hiding underground. How long could he keep this up?
Would he really remain here, stealing food and pulling pranks when he’ll be
thirty? Fifty? Seventy? He imagined himself as old as Byron Trappe, limping
from some injury he’d receive from being too slow with age, trying to squeeze
his middle-aged belly through the narrow walls of the academy. A grimace
stretched across his face like a wax figure melting in the heat of an inferno.

He
needed a drink.

***

Finn
hadn’t come to her all day. It was now getting late, and Belle was depressed as
ever. After what she’d done for him the least she could get was a thank you.
But no. Finn didn’t care. He was probably off with Daphne somewhere,
celebrating his thousandth victory over her uncle. She’d thought about going to
the cellar herself, but shrugged off the idea. He didn’t want her. He’d made
that perfectly clear. Now it was time for her to move on. Tonight she’d drown
herself in rum and Coke with a side of Ben & Jerry’s—one of the cooks
hid her secret stash of Phish Food in the back of the meat freezer, wedged
between the chicken drumsticks and pork chops.

Belle
wallowed so heavily in her own self-pity, she didn’t even notice the kitchen
door left wide open when she’d entered. She’d walked right in, and stopped cold
when she found her uncle searching through the auxiliary liquor cabinet. She
slid behind the ranges, grateful that the clanging of glass bottles censored
her entrance. But what was Uncle Byron doing
here
? He had his own stash in his room; he wouldn’t need to raid the cheap
stuff.

Belle
peered out and watched him as he deliberately chose one bottle and poured some
kind of blue liquid into it. He shook it gently, and then replaced it in the
back of the case, behind the other bottles. As he turned, Belle could see the
wicked smile that broke his face. He knew Finn; knew his favorite libation. And
now he was set to poison him.

***

Daphne
deliberately dragged her feet as the gruff man smelling of sweat and vinegar
led her down the corridor toward Trappe’s bedroom. Her heart thumped against
her sternum like a mighty gorilla struggling to break free of its cage. She had
no idea what Trappe had in store for her and she feared the unknown much more
than she feared the man himself.

Huge
hands shoved Daphne forward and she tripped over her own toes, smashing face
first into the floor. Her nose felt like it’d been bashed in with a hammer and
fresh blood dripped down over her lips. She hoped it wasn’t broken. When the
hands yanked her back up to her feet, she quit dragging her feet and walked
voluntarily until they reached Trappe’s room.

Daphne
hadn’t been here since that night she and Finn had been caught stealing the
scotch. She shivered when she saw the bed, remembering Finn’s body tucked
underneath while Trappe hovered above, but warmed quickly at the sight of the
bureau. She had a way out! She just had to get away from her captor, which was
easier said than done. His nubby fingers clawed into her shoulder, making her
lean uncomfortably to one side. She could try to make a run for it, but she
doubted she’d get very far. She had to find a way to subdue him first.

Daphne
scanned the room for an object, something heavy and solid that might be used to
bludgeon him. Her eyes floated over the bookcases, the bureau, a table, finally
resting on the nightstand, which they were quickly approaching. The slag glass
lamp was obviously an antique, and if Daphne was correct, the base would be heavy
enough to cause some damage.

She
acted before she had a chance to change her mind, stamping her foot back onto
the toe of her captor. He grunted and released her instantly. She flung herself
onto the lamp and yanked upward. It wouldn’t budge. She pushed and pulled, but
all that she moved was the nightstand itself, a few inches from the wall. The
moment Daphne realized the lamp was bolted down, a weight came bearing down on
her shoulders and she was flung around to face the man who brought her here. He
was a professor—she recognized him from somewhere, though she couldn’t
remember.

Drawing
from his waist, he removed a thick, leather belt, which he used to wrap
Daphne’s wrists firmly to the oak bedpost. She still wore a mask of shock.
There was nothing more she could do now but sit and wait. Why, she pleaded with
herself, did she come to Neverland Academy in the first place?

***

Finn
tapped lightly on the trap door above his head and waited patiently for an
answer. A few moments later, the door lifted and Janine frowned down at him.

“Not
today, Finn. Lily’s not feeling well. She’s not seeing anyone.”

She
began to drop the door, but Finn wedged his body through it, refusing to simply
go away.

“Is
she okay? How is she?” he asked. With Daphne and the boys gone now, Lily and
Belle were his only remaining friends. Well, maybe not Belle after the way he’d
treated her. And he really needed someone to talk to.

“I
don’t know Finn. Will
you
tell me what
happened? ‘Cause Lord knows she won’t.”

Finn
shook his head and shrugged. “What did she say?”

“Said
there was a scuffle in the dining hall and she got caught in the middle of it.
But I talked to the other workers—there wasn’t any fight there.
Something’s going on and I want to know what it is.” Her eyes begged Finn for
the truth, but he couldn’t give it to her, though he wanted to badly. First he
had to find out why Lily hadn’t ratted out Trappe herself. It didn’t make any
sense to him. She hated Trappe as much as he did.

“Let
me talk to her. Maybe she’ll tell me what really happened.”

“I
don’t know Finn. She’s banged up pretty badly. I don’t think it’s a good idea
yet.”

“Please,”
Finn begged. “I’m her best friend. You know that. If anyone can pry truth out
of her, it’s me.”

Lily’s
mother seemed to be contemplating Finn’s offer as she stared up at the ceiling.
Finn followed her eyes, wondering what on earth she was looking at. Finally she
looked pointedly at him.

“Okay.
I’ll give you ten minutes. But that’s it. She needs her rest.”

“Thank
you.”

Finn
started up the stairs when Janine stopped him. “Finn. Whatever you learn,
whatever the real truth is, you’ll tell me?” Her knuckles whitened from her
grip on the newel post.

Finn
nodded and drew his finger in an X over his heart. Then he raced up the stairs.

Outside
of Lily’s bedroom, he hesitated. What was he going to tell her? About Daphne
and why the boys have all gone? Could he confess his actions? Would he lose her
too?

Finn
resolved to keep it to himself—just for now. Until she fully recovered,
anyway. No need to cause her any more unnecessary stress. She’s already going
through too much as it is, having had to endure that experience on her birthday
of all days. And it was his fault she got caught. He should have gone for the
liquor, not her.

He
knocked lightly before gently pressing the door and leaning his face through.

“Knock,
knock?”

Lily
was sitting up in her bed, three pillows wedged behind her and a paperback
fitted comfortably in one hand. The only light in her room was a small lamp on
her bedside table. From here, her injuries looked like nothing. They could have
been simply shadows, dramatically emphasized by the lamplight, but Finn knew
better. Lily peeked over the top edge of her book.

“Finn!”
she cried, dropping the book to her lap, unconcerned with marking her page. She
smiled as if she’d had the best day of her life, not the worst.

“How
are you feeling?” Finn asked, easing his way slowly toward her bed as if she
were made of delicate eggshells.

“Like
I was locked in an empty room and beaten by a grown man. Oh wait. Yes, that did
happen.” Lily smiled despite her pain, finding humor in her awful experience.
Finn was simply disgusted. He sat himself on the edge of her bed; next to her
folded up legs.

“Why
didn’t you tell her? Why didn’t you tell your mom what happened?”

Lily
sighed. “I didn’t tell her because . . . well, because I’ll be out of here
soon. Look!” Lily reached into her nightstand drawer, pulled out an envelope,
and handed it to Finn. He stared for a moment at the return address: Office of
Admissions, Brown University. As he opened it, she couldn’t resist revealing
the news.

“I
was accepted! I’m going to Brown next year! Well, I don’t have enough money,
but I could get a scholarship. And I know I’d qualify for financial aid.”