The funeral made it official. Logan was dead. I still couldn't believe it. Every time I shut my eyes, I remembered that night in crystal clarity…
* * *
I knocked on Logan's door, and shifted my weight, uncomfortable in a tight black dress and Manolos. I was dressed for an exclusive gathering of The Immortals Society. We were a secret society, practically Acherton-Price Hall royalty, that both Logan and I had been, almost literally, born into.
He didn't answer. I knocked again, and shivered. The landing outside his dorm was frigid.
He still did not respond. I pushed tentatively on the door. It swung open, and the sight that met my eyes was my worst nightmare.
Logan lay on the floor, his eyes shut, his skin pale blue, and his strawberry-blonde hair fanning out around his head like a halo. An orange bottle of anti-depressants that I identified as belonging to his roommate and fellow Immortals Society member Adrian North was in Logan's right hand, the pills spilling across the carpet. I didn't need to be a doctor to know that he was dead. And that if I had arrived just a few minutes earlier, I could have saved him…
* * *
But I could not dwell on the past now. I had to live in the present. All the same, my aquamarine eyes blurred with tears when I dropped a handful of dirt on his coffin. Finally, I started crying, my shoulders shaking with silent tears.
Logan's friend Adrian North-the one with the anti-depressants-stepped out of the line of crying high school seniors and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
"We all miss him, and I know how you feel," he whispered in my ear.
"No, you don't." I said, and without looking back ran to my car. I sat at the wheel, staring out at the dreary, rainy graveyard, perfect for a funeral. I sat for a long time, pulling myself together. Finally, I pulled out of the parking lot and drove back to APH.
In a daze, I stumbled out of my car next to Boxton Hall, the most exclusive dorm on campus and-lucky me-my dorm. In my room, I sat on my bed and stared at a photo of me and Logan at last year's gathering of the IS. Logan was wearing a black tux and I was in a lavender dress oddly similar to the one Princess Di had worn on her wedding day-all lace and frills. We were holding black umbrellas. I was twirling mine like an actress in Singing in the Rain. Logan was folding his up. We'd just used the umbrellas as parachutes and jumped off of Commons, the dining hall. Logan was pink-cheeked and grinning. I looked…mildly freaked out.
Commons was always the victim of our pranks. During Logan's and my first year at APH, we had filled it with champagne on New Year's Eve. During sophomore year, we'd changed the whole setup around, dismantling the tables and rebuilding them on the roof. And last year, we had jumped off the roof with umbrellas. This year we hadn't really done anything-everyone was being interrogated by the cops-but we had met up at Commons, and Adrian's original plans had involved frosting-in trucks-duct tape, and-of course-Nerf guns.
I sighed and rolled over on my bed so that I was staring at the ceiling. I pictured Logan and all the fun things we did together; jumping off the roof of Commons, starting an epic paint war in art class, rebuilding our favorite table from Commons on the roof…
I'm not sure when the memories morphed into a dream, but I do know one thing. One minute, I was staring at the ceiling, the next, Adrian was shaking me awake.
"Aaaaaah!" I shrieked. "What are you DOING here?"
"I have a theory," he started, flipping his brown hair out of his deep dark eyes and focusing his penetrating gaze on me. "I think Logan didn't kill himself. He was never particularly suicidal. I think someone murdered him."
"But…who? Why? And you never answered my first question." I asked.
"I would bet my entire trust fund on Hattie Davies. She's notoriously jealous of you two, and she probably wanted to ruin senior year for you. And I snuck in." Adrian jerked his head at the window as he spoke.
"Hattie? That cow? I don't think she would be smart enough to make it look like a suicide," I said, twirling a lock of my black hair around my index finger.
"I wouldn't be so quick to assume. She's in my Calculus class and…I hate to say this, but she's pretty bright." Adrian said.
"Hmm." I responded. "We should interrogate her. Have you got a good interrogation room?"
"How about my dorm in Burton?" Adrian asked.
"Great idea. You can kidnap her and I'll do the questioning."
"Sounds like a plan." Adrian joked.
* * *
I angled the light at Hattie's pig-like face. "Now, miss, we want the truth, the truth and nothing but the truth from you. How well did you know Logan Matthews?" I asked.
"Not too well. I was always jealous of him and what's-her-face…Myra!" Hattie said in her smug, prissy voice.
"Did you kill him?" Adrian asked.
"No." Hattie was perfectly, annoyingly, calm cool and collected.
"Do we believe her?" Adrian asked.
"Let her go…for now." I said.
"You're free to go, miss." Adrian undid the duct tape that kept Hattie attached to the chair. Hattie ran out of the room as fast as a roadrunner.
"D'you think she'll rat on us?" he asked me.
"Nah. I mixed a slight amnesiac into the champagne she was drinking. She'll forget this by the time the bell rings." I said, clearing up the mess we had made. A minute later, the bell rang, sending us off to lunch.
* * *
It was hours past lights-out, but I couldn't get to sleep. I lay on my bed in my APH sweats and t-shirt, staring at the ceiling. Logan seemed to be staring at me from beyond the grave when I looked at his photo. I put it face-down on my nightstand.
Finally, I managed to get to sleep. But my dreams were no better than reality.
* * *
I sat up in bed to see Logan's pale, misty form floating before me. Death had no changed him at all-he had the same golden hair, and the same mesmerizing eyes, little lagoons of azure blue.
"Logan!" I exclaimed "How-why-but-I thought you were…"
"I am dead, Myra. I am contacting you through the thin veil separating my world from yours. I am ok here, Myra, but I could only be happy with you. So I asked the Powers That Be to let me see you one last time…"Logan-ghost crossed his legs and hovered in front of me. He was wearing the same APH uniform he had worn on the night of his death.
"I miss you so much, Logan, but…why did you need to contact me so urgently?" I asked.
"I want to tell you that Adrian is right. I was murdered, but not by Hattie Davies. No, the girl who murdered me was Adrian's own little sister-Lindsay." Logan paused for me to take this in.
"So…Hattie is innocent?" I asked.
"Yep. But I don't know how you're going to tell Adrian that my killer is his own little sis." Logan said, grinning.
I paused, thinking. Would Adrian ever believe me on this? Probably not. I turned to speak to Logan again, but he was already gone, his outline but a faint shimmer in the air…
* * *
I trudged through the wet leaves on the ground on my way to Commons for breakfast the next morning, thinking about my dream. How would I explain to Adrian that his own little sister had killed Logan? It wouldn't be easy.
At breakfast, I dropped my Louis Vuitton purse on the seat next to Adrian. "I know who killed Logan," I told him. "But it won't be easy for you. It was Lindsay."
"How do you know?" Adrian asked.
"Look, last night Logan's-Logan's ghost came to me. He told me what had happened. And no, I wasn't high on anything and I wasn't dreaming, before you say anything." I said, digging into my pancakes.
"Ok, so, how do we catch my little sister?" Adrian asked.
"Easy-peasy. We kidnap one of her best friends. I'm thinking…Rose Wynter?" Rose was a shy bookish girl who was, oddly enough, Lindsay's best friend here at APH. I was positive if we abducted her, Lindsay would confess.
"What are we going to do to her?" Adrian asked.
"Nothing too bad, just the stuff the IS does as hazing. You know, blindfold her, take her out to the old chapel and make her recite the creed in Latin while being slapped by every guy in the group? Except minus the last part." I said, biting into a piece of toast smeared with Nutella. I was ravenous, having missed dinner last night to work on my essay for AP American History.
* * *
The next morning, my alarm clock woke me at the crack of dawn, blasting Miley Cyrus' "The Climb". I hated the song, but it was the only way to wake me.
I quickly got out of bed, pulled on a pair of Sevens and a black turtleneck sweater, and snuck across campus to meet Adrian at Lindsay's-and Rose's- dorm.
We carefully snuck into Rose's room, and Adrian held her down while I tied a black Gucci scarf around her head. We led her, still in her pink nightgown and bunny slippers, across the campus to the old chapel.
The chapel, although as beautiful as a New England autumn, was scheduled to be demolished this coming spring. It wasn't used by our anymore and had fallen into disrepair. The new chapel we used to replace it was built right next door.
Adrian sat Rose down in one of the musty, creaky pews and tossed me a Zippo.
"Light the candles, would you?" he asked, retying Rose's blindfold. I obeyed, and soon the chapel was bathed in a warm glow.
"Now, Rose, we're going to keep you here for a little while," Adrian said while I sent a text from his personal Blackberry to Lindsay's phone. Lindsay knew his other phone number, the one for his iPhone. Only the Immortal Society knew about the Blackberry. The text read, in cold, black letters:
ROSE IS WITH US. COME TO THE OLD CHAPEL AND SHE WILL BE LET GO SAFELY.
-A
After I hit "send", we waited. We didn't have to wait long. The chapel doors burst open. Lindsay stood there, glaring.
"Ah, you came." Adrian rose. "I couldn't believe my own little sister would betray me like this, but you did." He motioned to me to let Rose go. I untied her blindfold, gave her my old Prada jacket to keep her warm, whispered "Keep it, it's a gift" and let her out. Then, I locked the chapel doors and turned to Lindsay.
"You're a murderer, Squirt. You killed my best friend, and her," he motioned at me, "boyfriend. What if Dean died, Lindsay? How would you feel then?" Dean was Lindsay's boyfriend.
"I would feel...awful. I'm sorry I did this, Myra. But I had to. Someone- I have no idea who it was, I only ever heard his voice on the phone-blackmailed me. He said," she sniffled loudly "He said he'd kill my whole family if-if I didn't obey him. He was awful, Adrian. Awful!" She started to cry.
"Are you telling the truth, Lin? Remember, we're in a chapel. God could-and will-smite you if you were lying to me." Adrian said, his voice icy, emotionless.
"I'm not lying. Just-just please don't tell the cops about me. Please! I'm your sister!"
"I'll let you off this time, kiddo, but next time…don't expect to be so lucky. Now, run along, child." Adrian let Lindsay go. On her way out, I stopped her.
"It's okay." I said.
After she was gone, Adrian and I were alone together. We sat staring at each other for a few beats. Then, Adrian leaned in towards me, his lips poised for a kiss. I let him kiss me, and kissed back, although I was thinking This is too soon…much too soon…what about Logan? What about…oh, screw the vow of chastity…
When we pulled apart, I was breathing hard. Adrian's cheeks were as pink as Rose's nightgown, and his eyes sparkled like twin black oceans.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to-to do that. Sorry."
"It's…all right." I said, quietly. "More than all right. I'm not mad."
Adrian exhaled, calming down. Then, he kissed me again.
* * *
As I lay on my bed, reviewing the night, I felt guilty.
My boyfriend just died, and I've already snogged his best friend. Way to mourn his death, Myra I thought, angry at myself. Why had I let myself get carried away with the kissing? Why had I let Adrian kiss me to begin with, instead of slapping him away? Why??
But some good had come out of the night. We now knew that Logan's killer was a mysterious stranger who had blackmailed Lindsay. But that wasn't much help. How could we search all the guys in the school?
I couldn't think. I needed to see Adrian, to explain. I pulled on my clothes and ran to Burton.
When I pushed open the door to his room, I had a deja-vu-all-over-again attack. Adrian was lying on the floor with two slashes over his carotid artery. It looked like a suicide, but I suspected it instantly.
I picked up the knife lying on the floor next to him. It was a Swiss Army knife with a very distinctive mark. There was a chip next to the Victorinox logo in the exact shape of Italy's boot. This knife belonged to Nicko Groton.
I picked up the knife, careful to touch it only with my gloves. I needed to run some tests in the labs in Gartner Science Hall.
I ran the few miles from Burton to GSH. Once there, I flashed my student ID at the lock, which opened and allowed me to enter the forensics lab. I went straight to what I knew was the fingerprint scanner. I placed the knife under the light, and waited.
Finally, the results came back. The last person to touch this knife had been…Adrian's new roommate, Brian Wilson.
But…that wasn't possible! Brian was a goody-two-shoes Boy Scout who wouldn't hurt a fly! Of course, he could have had a secret alter ego, but that seemed like a cliché detective story.
I was still speculating when something sharper than the cold air outside sliced into my throat from behind. I collapsed on the floor with a thump loud enough to wake the dead, and then…the world went black.
EPILOGUE
Lindsay North
A black cloth covering my brother and Myra.
That's all I can think about right now. I woke this morning to the news that my brother was dead, and I've been going through Kleenex like a faucet since then.
And then, when I went to GSH to do a little work on my Bio mice, I found the door to the forensics lab ajar and Myra in there, lying, dead, in a pool of her own blood. Brian Wilkins was standing over her corpse, cackling, the fluorescent lights glinting off his glasses like the laser beams of some mad scientist. I half expected him to shout "Finally! My evil scheme has come to fruition" or something of that nature. But he didn't. He just stood there…laughing.
I backed out of the room as fast as I could and pulled out my Razr, dialing 911.
"Police," I said, when I got through. "I'd like to report a murder at APH…"
Brian Wilson
Finally, everything is going according to my plan. Myra, Logan, and Adrian are dead, and I can take over the Immortal Society. Hah! A foolish name, for they are as mortal as anyone else, just incredibly reckless and foolish. But I digress.
As the new leader, I should just destroy the group. Or make them do some foolish prank that gets them into trouble, possibly even expelled.
But I was foolish on that day too, I learned. For as I stood over Myra's body, laughing, I failed to notice the cops coming into the building. Alas, now I have to find a way out of this damp dark cell that is not at all to my liking. But that shouldn't be too difficult…
Nicko Groton
I watched as they dropped the coffins containing Myra and Adrian into graves on either side of Logan's. I was the only one who had come to watch their funeral. As the dirt was shoveled over them, I read the inscriptions on their headstones.
Adrian North
Life's but a walking shadow
-Macbeth
1991-2009
And, to his right, Logan.
Logan Matthews
Whose time with us was far too brief
1991-2009
And to Logan's right, Myra.
Myra Blake
Immortal in our souls
1991-2009
I gazed at the inscriptions until my eyes blurred. But it was no use dwelling on my past with them now-I had plenty of time for that later. Right now they were dead. Dead and buried.