Free Secret of the Sevens by Lynn Lindquist Page A

they refused to talk about it. The next day, they came to me and finally admitted it was true, but insisted I let it go. They said they loved me and I had to trust them for now. They told me that someday I’d know everything.”
    â€œBut why would they lie about it?”
    Her voice quivers. “Because they’re hiding something bad.”
    â€œNo way. Not Mom and Dad. How could you even say that?”
    â€œThink about it. They’re all about taking in foster kids. Me being adopted isn’t something they’d be ashamed of or uncomfortable sharing. Plus, they’re fanatics about honesty.”
    â€œBut what would they be hiding?”
    â€œI have no idea because they refuse to talk about it. I’ve imagined all kinds of dark secrets, like they stole me or my real mother was some horrible monster.”
    â€œIt doesn’t make sense.”
    â€œExactly. That’s why I joined the Sevens. That’s what I want for my greatest desire—I want to know who my mother was and what happened to her.” She crosses her arms. “I’m counting on you not to tell anyone, Talan.”
    I nod, and she slowly turns and walks away. I trail behind her in stunned silence until her flashlight reveals another passageway.
    â€œThere’s our next intersection,” she says softly. “Where are we in the poem?”
    â€œOkay, it goes: ‘Until it leads right to a place, where everything you thought you knew, will turn around. And you will, too.”
    Laney says, “We turn right, then,” and swings down the dark passage. “Look! There’s a light ahead.”
    Up high, and in the distance, light streams from a shaft in the ceiling. I’m so happy to see it until I realize that we have no idea where it’s coming from. The tunnel dead-ends below it, but metal rungs protrude from the wall there. We lower our beams as we near it.
    Laney opens her mouth to say something, but she’s silenced by voices in the distance. We stare at each other and then up the chute. The voices are too muffled to make out. I climb the lowest rungs until my head barely rises above the hatch.
    The space around me is empty—a shadowy room that’s the size of a large closet. I wave for Laney to follow me up.
    We climb out, turn off our flashlights, and look in different directions. Laney points to a long horizontal vent that rides high along one wall near the ceiling. She cups her hand over my ear. “We must be in a hidden room or utility closet or something. Listen,” she whispers. “The voices are coming through the cold air return up there.”
    Light sneaks through the slanted slats in the metal register, illuminating the room with stolen light. Standing against the back wall, I see a brilliant crystal chandelier through the grates. Laughter passes through the slits, too. Laney holds a finger to her lips and nods toward a ladder that was conveniently left in the corner, right below the vent.
    A familiar voice on the other side of the wall calls out, “Is everyone having a good time?”
    Younger voices laugh and cheer. They sound kind of drunk.
    â€œThis is what being a Pillar is all about. Success through excellence!”
    A familiar voice answers, “We’re all really grateful for your generosity, Mr. Kane.”
    It takes me a moment to recognize Cameron Moore’s suck-up tone. Laney’s eyes grow wide, signaling me she recognizes it too. I climb the ladder, leaning against the wall so that my face is in the shadows, and reach to help her up.
    The scene we spy when we gaze down through the narrow slats looks like Christmas at the Playboy Mansion, minus the skin. A long elegant table stretches across the center of a dark, wood-paneled room. The tabletop is crowded with plates of half-eaten lobster and steak, with ornate side dishes that look like art projects. There’s a tower of what looks like little bonbons and some