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Authors: Melissa Parkin

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BOOK: Divine Vices
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“Okay,
then justify his taste in music. Listen to this,” Gwen said, cringing at the
sounds of Nick Cave’s “Red Right Hand.”

“What’s
wrong with it? It’s Halloween,” said Ian defensively.

“Oh,
please. This time of year only gives you an excuse. How much do you want to bet
that this song is on your TOP 25 MOST PLAYED list? It’s creepy,” Gwen
countered.

“I
love this song,” I equally protested.

“Because
you’re weird, too. Listen to your ringtone. It oozes creepiness,” she said.

Ian,
Jerry, and I all went up in arms.

“Don’t
you dare speak such things against Led Zeppelin!” I cautioned. “‘Kashmir’ is
one of the greatest instrumental achievements in the history of rock music and
its abstract lyrics make it one of the best songs of all time.”

“Bull,
I’ve heard better sounds coming out of my cat when it’s hocking up a hairball,”
said Gwen.

Just
as I was about to unleash hell on her, she smiled ever so slightly. There it
was.

“You
really enjoy getting a rise out of people, don’t you?”

“You
know it,” Gwen replied, flipping through some albums near the register.

“What
exactly is
that
?” asked Jerry, eying Gwen warily as if she were an
extraterrestrial life form.

“You
know how they say everyone has baggage they bring into a relationship? Well,
with Cassie came that,” Ian said, cocking his head in Gwen’s direction. “Louis
Vuitton’s entire luggage department.”

“I
heard that,” Gwen remarked.

“You
were supposed to,” Ian chirped back.

“I
must say, I’m surprised you actually know the name of a designer,” she
countered.

“Well,
you only talk about garbage like that all day long, in between your crush of
the week and the next tactical plan of action to attack Stacy. I was bound to
pick up something through your yammering.”

“Hey,
my yammering is going to prove useful to you one day, when you finally decide
to let me give you a makeover.”

“Yeah,
because it’s my dream for you to dress me like a Ken doll. Then after my IQ
drops about twenty points, I’ll finally fit in with my peers by saying,
‘Seriously, dude,’ every other sentence,” said Ian.

“It
wouldn’t kill you to be normal.”

“Maybe,
maybe not. I’ve never tried.”

“You
know, you’re not a bad lookin’ guy,” said Gwen. “With a little help, you just
might be dating material.”

“A
little help?”

“Okay,
a lot. I was trying to be nice, but still.”

“Leave
him be,” I finally said. “The world is better off with one less humdrum wannabe
trying to submit to the imposed hierarchy of high school.”

“Thank
you,” said Ian cheerfully. “At least some people actually value individuality.”

“Coming
from a magician who looks like he stepped out of a Vaudeville show? Yeah, you
lose all credibility to us
humdrums
,” remarked Gwen.

“You
just don’t appreciate our art,” said Ian.

“The
art of what? Dressing in fashions that outstayed their welcome by a good
century and pulling coins out from behind people’s ears? Oh, yes, you’re
comparable to Van Gough,” mocked Gwen.

“Spoken
like a true, over-worldly individual,” Ian responded, grabbing a red linen
cloth off the counter. “As children, our virtue grants us the ability to have
faith in the supernatural. As we get older though, and the secrets of Santa
Claus and the tooth fairy are revealed, our innocence is lost and we find
ourselves less captivated by life’s wonders. It is our pleasure as magicians to
grant skeptics the chance to be fascinated, even if just for a moment.”

Ian
rolled up his sleeves and draped the cloth over his bare left hand. He slowly
lifted the fabric and then whisked it away in a swift motion, revealing the
unexpected appearance of a single, long-stemmed red rose in his grasp.

Handing
it to me with a beaming smile, he said, “It’s in those moments that we return
one’s virtue, and hopefully leave them with the rare occasion of true
enchantment.”

“How
did you-” I started.

Ian
covered his mouth with his pointer finger.

“A
good magician never gives up his secrets,” said Jerry, equally spellbound.

“Seriously,
where did the flower come from?” said Gwen, going up to Ian and inconclusively
patting down his arms and torso. “Did you say you’re a magician, or a wizard?”

“Despite
your surly demeanor, I’ve made you into a believer,” said Ian satisfyingly.

“Yeah,
into believing that your dark powers really may have killed Archibald.”

“I
thought you were supposed to be on a hot-manhunt,” I said to Gwen.

“Jeff
isn’t gonna be here until after five. He’s playing a pick-up game with some of
the other basketball players at the park.”

“What
time do you want to head back to school?” I asked.

“Party
starts at six,” Gwen replied. “We’ll leave around a half past five so that we
can swing by our houses to grab our stuff.”

“How
on earth you convinced Cassie to go to a girls’ lock-in is beyond me,” chuckled
Ian.

“What?
It’ll be fun,” said Gwen.

“Yeah,
because I can’t think of anything better than to be held prisoner all night
inside the hellhole that I can only wait to get out of during normal hours
every other day of the week,” remarked Ian. “And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed
or not, but Cassie’s not exactly your run-of-the-mill material girl who loves
hanging out with a bunch of giddy cheerleaders obsessing over hair, makeup, and
guys.”

“Oh,
come on,” I said. “Trish and some of the more normal girls in our class are
gonna be there too. It could be fun.”

“It
will
be,” assured Gwen, walking over to a CD rack of bestsellers.

“You
actually believe that?” asked Ian, turning toward me with an uneasy smile.

“As if I actually have a choice?” I chuckled. “As
far as I’m concerned, it’s not a lock-in. It’s a lockdown. I’d rather be safe
inside the confines of my bedroom, but you know how insistent Meyer can be. For
all I know, it really could be fun, but I’ve got to say that I’m not the fondest
of participating in a massive sleepover with Stacy and her minion of flying
monkeys.”

Chapter
5

The Point of No Return

“I
can’t believe you actually convinced me to do this,” I groaned, heaving Gwen’s
duffle out of the back seat.

“It’s
another rite of passage around here. It’ll be fun,” she assured.

“Did
you pack a body in here?” I asked, lugging her bag over to her. “This thing
weighs a ton.”

“Best
not to be unprepared. Rather have things I don’t need than to be left without
things that I do.”

“Gwen,
we’re sleeping at the school for the night, not joining Lewis and Clark’s
expedition,” I said, effortlessly yanking my gym bag out as well with a
sleeping bag tucked under my arm. “What’s even less believable is the fact that
you agreed to be locked up here with Stacy.”

“This
isn’t about our rivalry tonight. It’s about tradition. Even she won’t want to
stir up trouble. The very fact that we’ll be stuck around one another the whole
night is reason enough,” said Gwen.

We
locked up the car and headed toward the front of the building where Trish and
about a dozen other girls were already standing with their supplies in hand.

“So
how many people actually come to this?” I inquired.

“Probably
an upwards of thirty girls or so,” said Trish.

“That’s
it? There are at least ninety girls in our class.”

“Yeah,
well, a lot of them think the same way you do,” Gwen chirped in.

“And
you gave me grief for agreeing with two thirds of the majority? Thanks,” I
said, elbowing Gwen lightly. “You know, I could be sleeping in a perfectly good
bed tonight. One that actually has lumbar support. Instead, I’m sleeping on
what? The gym floor?”

“Yeah,
instead of lumbar, you get lumber,” joked Trish.

I
looked at her crossly.

“You
know, because the gym floor’s made of wood...”

“I
get it,” I said, hiking up the stone steps to the main doors as Miss Tipton
passed by us with a set of keys in hand. “You girls ready to have a good time?”

“Yes,
we are,” said Stacy, coming up behind us with a pink rucksack and matching
sleeping bag.

“See,
even she packs lighter than you,” I joked to Gwen.

“You
got the stuff?” Stacy whispered.

Gwen
nodded.

“All
right,” she smiled. “Two o’clock. Let Trish and the others know.”

Stacy
proceeded to her clique as I gawked in awe at the strange sight to Gwen and her
not only managing to keep things from igniting into a brawl, but actually being
civilized and happy around one another.

“Dare
I ask?”

Gwen
smiled delightfully. “Oh, you’ll find out later.”

“This
isn’t some weird sorority hazing ritual, is it?” I asked lightly, though I
wasn’t real sure if I had something to worry about or not.

“Nope,
but it is a ritual in some sorts. Let’s just say we’re gonna pay respects to
our local legends.”

I
looked at her worryingly. “Meyer?”

She
didn’t reply.

As
Miss Tipton fiddled with the locks at the front entrance, I took a moment to
look up at New Haven High’s stone brick façade. I had fallen in love with its
Romanesque architecture and Gothic arched entryways the very moment I saw it my
first day of school, but this was also the first time I had seen it in its
grandeur at nighttime. The diminishing light of day only illuminated the bell
tower that rested at the top of the third story. The rest of its shadowed
structure exuded a peculiarly ominous air whose history seemed to leave the
same chilling nature that one might find at a cemetery.

“Not
scared, are ya’?” said Trish, startling me from behind by pinching her
fingertips into my shoulders.

“Terrified.”

Miss
Tipton waved us inside and we marched single file through the entrance to the
gym as she did a headcount.

There
were twenty-eight girls in all, each of us loading our belongings up onto the
bleachers as Miss Tipton ran through her list of procedurals.

“The
gym doors will remain unlocked so that you all can use the facilities, but that
doesn’t give you free rein over the school. Each door at the end of the wing
will stay locked. Is that clear?” finished Miss Tipton.

We
all nodded.

“All
right, time for some fun,” she said, motioning to Gwen. “Meyer, care to
commence our activities?”

“Certainly,”
Gwen replied. “As we requested, I see you all are wearing some of your most
vibrant active wear, so I say we begin by playing some Color Tag.”

As
if we were all eight years old again, our entire group bounced up from the
first bench of the bleachers and headed over to the north side of the gym.
Stacy picked out two people at random to be “It”, and at the signal we all ran
like maniacs across to the other side of the court. Laughing in hysterics, we
played three full games. Then we moved onto Charades, Pictionary, HORSE, and
then some high stakes poker, where bite size Reese’s and Milky Ways were our
currency.

Of
course, the evening would not be complete without pizza, not to mention the
adorable twentysomething-year-old delivery guy, Mike, who probably earned more
tips with his boyish good looks at the local pizza joint than all of the
bellhops at Manhattan’s Carlyle Hotel combined.

After
indulging our sights, we indulged our appetites by tearing our teeth into
cheesy slices as phones began to buzz across the gymnasium.

“Oh
my God! Have you seen this?” bellowed Trish, running up to Gwen, Stacy, and me
like she had found definitive proof of unicorns. “Some girl down in Lancaster
was killed, and there’s suspected cult activity behind it!”

“You
might want to dial it down a few notches,” I said. “Best to have people
thinking you don’t actually get excited by dead bodies.”

“Sorry,”
said Trish, still a little too buoyantly, “but this is front-page news.”

I
gave Gwen a sideways glance, and to my surprise, she looked just as taken
aback. Once everyone in the gym began to natter over the hot topic, I pulled
Gwen away from the pack for a little chitchat.

“Before
you even start, let me just say that I had nothing to do with this leak,” she
whispered.

“Yeah,
I had a pretty good idea of that,” I said. “How do you think it got out? The
police wouldn’t have released it. What about your source?”

“No
way. My source is for my eyes, and my eyes only.”

“Who
is this mysterious benefactor?” I asked. “A guy, who perhaps has certain
intentions towards you?”

“Again,
confidential.”

“So
who do you think leaked it? Reporter? Bribed cop?”

“No
clue, but at least now you can rest assured that I won’t be hauled away in
handcuffs,” she chuckled as we walked back to the pack.

“Well,
we may not be able to do anything in concerns to releasing something for the
press tonight, but I do have a new game in mind,” said Stacy who cast a
fiendish grin at Gwen.

“Uh-oh,
I can just hear the wheels turning in your head. What do you have in mind?” she
replied.

“Good,
old-fashioned Bloody Mary,” said Stacy.

“What?
Are we in the first grade?”

“No,
I like that idea,” Trish chimed in. “Let’s set the rules. Anyone have a
candle?”

Gwen
raised her hand.

“Why
on earth would you bring that with you?” I asked, looking at her suspiciously.

“Again,
later.”

“Fine,
so how are we doing this? Each of us takes a turn going into the locker-room
bathroom?”

“No,”
said Trish, smiling sinisterly. “We’ll go in groups of three to the Malik
bathroom down the hall.”

“Malik?”

“Mary
Malik. She’s supposedly a girl who committed suicide in there back in the
’30s,” said Gwen, “but there’s no record of someone by that name even attending
the school. I already looked into it years ago. It’s just an urban legend.”

“Then
why don’t you go first?” said Trish.

“Why
don’t you?” Stacy countered. “Since you’re the one raising the stakes here.”

“Fine,”
said Trish. “Courtney, Chloe, and I will be the first takers.”

“Since
when is this game played in groups?” I asked.

“For
verification. Anyone can go wandering down the hall and hang out in the
bathroom for a minute. The others are there to witness you doing it.”

“Go
run along then,” said Stacy as Gwen handed her a candle.

“Got
a light?”

Gwen
also tossed her a lighter.

“You
get that duffle bag from Mary Poppins?” I cracked. “What else do you have in
there, Gwen? A camping tent? Jimmy Hoffa’s remains, perhaps?”

“Ha-ha,”
said Gwen. “Let’s see if you’re still laughing in a few minutes when you head
out there with me after Trish returns.”

“I
will be. You know why? Because I’m gonna be bearing witness and partaking in a
silly ritual where three goofballs are gonna be twirling around like idiots in
front of the bathroom mirror.”

BOOK: Divine Vices
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