Graham unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket. Harry read its title over his arm. “?‘Standards of Data Selection from Human Skeletal Remains: Estimating Sex from the Human Skull.’?”
“It’s a work sheet I found on an archaeology blog,” Graham said. “See, they break the steps down. You pick which characteristics of the skull match which in these diagrams. Each has a point value and you total the four diagram point values up, and whichever range the sum falls into tells you if the skull’s biologically male or female.” His finger traced the back of the skull and then he referenced the paper. Three more times he studied features of the skull and consulted the work sheet. His lips moved as he tallied up the values in his head.
“She’s a girl,” he proclaimed.
A girl. Like me. Like Goldilocks. Exactly what we needed.
All our rebellions with the initiates would be displays Seven Hills couldn’t look away from. Nightmare-inducing. Perhaps that Goldilocks had been tucked away on our rock, high on its altar so that even the neighbors who stood in the orchard couldn’t see, made her easy to ignore.
Several minutes later in the living room, Graham paced, hair on end, worked up by his fingers. “All six initiates take part in each of our rebellions.”
“What if the initiates won’t follow through?” Viv said.
“They will,” Graham said.
“They just stabbed a dove in the heart,” I reminded them.
“How can we be sure, though?” Viv pressed.
Graham took a deep, considering breath. “One: peer pressure—Amanda and Conner are in. Two: We’ve explained that rebellion and subversion is the mission of the Order. And three: We’ve promised them they’ll benefit from playing along, because they’ll graduate from initiate to member and be able to use the Order’s mischief against whoever they want. Only one out of three of these incentives needs to stick for them to go carry out the rebellions.”
“People do way worse for less,” Harry said quietly on the sofa, a socked foot balanced on his knee, wireless headphones around his neck putting out a wisp of music.
I recognized the incentives Graham described from a book he’d read and shared the year before about how ordinary, usually kind people were convinced to do crazy things or radicalized to belong to murderous cults. I didn’t comment, not about to draw parallels.
Harry’s finger brushed occasionally, accidentally, against the side of my leg.
Viv dropped the cold pizza crust she’d been gnawing on and said, “Oh my god, brilliant idea. We could get them to do anything. I could make Amanda do embarrassing stuff. Like, why not toss in a few rites that are funny? Stuff the initiates can do at school.” Her shoulders bounced, but her mouth pinching told me it wasn’t as spontaneous as she was pretending.
I wondered, Was this the revenge Viv wanted on Amanda?
Harry’s finger grazed my leg. On purpose. “What do you think?” I asked, turning slightly to him. Brown eyes stirring with thoughts. Bowing pink lips. His finger traveling down my outer thigh. The song playing faintly was familiar. I listened, my shoulder pressing his. My perfect song.
“I’m good with funny or embarrassing rites.” He looked to Viv. “But no going overboard. We have to agree to send only a couple to any given person.” He meant Amanda. “And they can’t distract her or him from the important rites. No unnecessary risks.”
“I am the king of necessary risk,” Graham said from the corner of his mouth.
“We should pick initiates to send them to so they won’t get embarrassing rites on the same day from more than one of us,” I suggested.
I watched Viv casually pick lint from her skirt, lips pursed at the alpaca throw that had shed on her. With an unconcerned smile she said, “Sure. I call Amanda. Oh, I have a good idea for a way to start them off. Can I have Campbell for the first one at least?”
“You guys care who you get?” I asked the boys.
Graham said, “Harry’s earned the right to embarrass Conner. I’ll take Rachel. You want Jess or Trent, Iz?”
“Trent, if I’m picking the person I want to embarrass. I can do Jess too, though.”
I wanted to define the rules more. The when and how. But Viv was chewing on the inside of her cheek, lost in thought. If this was what Viv wanted, how she planned to get her revenge on Amanda, I didn’t want to tie her hands up with rules. I trusted Viv’s judgment; she wouldn’t endanger the Order, but she could be ruthlessly calculating. And so I clapped and said, “That’s that.”
? ? ?
? ? ?
It was a few past ten when Harry and I reached my front door.
My key in the deadbolt, hand on the knob, I stopped and turned to him. “I had fun today. With the music. With you.”
He laid his hand over mine. “The beach,” Harry said. “Let’s go.”
I smiled. “Right now?”
He tipped his head and laughed softly. “After school this week. Just us.”
My hand stretched under his, enjoying the cover of his warm fingers. “Definitely.”
I waved at Harry when he turned one last time, a few houses up the street, before he jogged the rest of the way home. Then I stole into the shadows between lampposts.
Graham was framed by the front window under a reading lamp, a book propped on his chest, close to his face. No spectacles or contacts.
He squinted at me as he opened the door. “Forget your cell?”
My finger jumped involuntarily to my lips. “Shhhh.” Paranoid, I looked to the sidewalk. Why? Harry and Viv would be home. No one else would think me at Graham’s suspicious.
I spun him around, gently pushed him inside, and shut the door with nary a click at my back. “Close the drapes. You can see in from the street,” I whispered.
An eyebrow shot up as he asked, “What are we doing that you don’t want people to see? May I make a suggestion?”
“No,” I snapped. I shook my head, frustrated, and went to pull the drapes closed myself.
“You’re weirding me out,” he said with too much amusement for it to be true.
“What if Viv or Harry really did leave a cell and they see me in here when they come back for it?”
“What if?”
“No, Graham. It has to be a secret. I mean, I guess there are a million possible reasons why I’m here and not necessarily the reason I’m really here for.” I paused. “The reason I’m really here for . . . ,” I repeated to myself; shook my head to clear it.
He smiled crookedly. “You seem nervous, Izzie.”
“I don’t think you made eye contact with me the whole night. Not once.” I leveled a finger at him. “And I know I shouldn’t have called you stupid, but you don’t believe I think you’re stupid. Not for a second. Never would you doubt the giant brain sloshing around in your skull. So just stop being a jerk to me already. Don’t ignore me again.”
Hands shoved into his pockets, he shrugged. “Okay.”
He was all eyes now. The knob was cold at my back and I’d started to replay Viv saying, It’s okay to like both of them. It wasn’t. I didn’t. I’d never. “Jesus. Blink or something.”