Free The Initiation by Ridley Pearson Page A

realize this was one of those moments we’d connected in ways two people always hope to connect, but rarely do. “Why do you think ‘night’ is part of it?”
    â€œIt’s a test, of course.”
    â€œOf course?”
    â€œA test of your brother’s determination. His will. Fortitude. Daring. Resolve.”
    â€œEnough!” I said, stopping him. “Just because one is a know-it-all does not require one to demonstrate it at every opportunity.”
    â€œNoted.”
    â€œYou’re saying he or she wanted to make it as difficult as possible on James. But what if the person sending this can’t get to the place, can’t leave the Bible until—”
    â€œStudy hall, when everyone else is accounted for.”
    â€œOh, you are the devil, Lock! Of course!” I thought about it for a moment. “But actually, no. I mean, who could do it if we’re all accounted for? Besides, you can’t take a bathroom break, run to your room in the Bricks, grab the Bible, put it somewhere else, and get back to study hall in any kind of believable time. The proctor will come looking for you.”
    â€œIf you’re a student.”
    The way he just dropped that into my lap startled me. “What? You think a proctor is going to play a prank like that? Why?”
    â€œThe logical deduction is that it cannot be a student to place whatever it is, wherever it will be, if we accept it can only be placed during study hall. You must agree with me here. There is no other way to see it, Moria. Since, as you have so astutely pointed out, a fellow student’s role in such an act is unlikely to the point of impossible. And, since it is also highly questionable a proctor would engage in such activity, it leads us back to where we began: that the requirement for James to accomplish this task at night can only be seen as a challenge. A test. Someone is daring him. More to the point perhaps, he or she—or they—is also overly confident he won’t take the note to a proctor or the headmaster himself. That’s an interesting confidence. James isknown to this person, I should think.”
    I sat there in rapt attention, in awe of the boy I faced, yet desperate to appear only vaguely impressed. He had laid out the options like stones in a footpath, so easily followed. His was a mind capable of much faster processing than mine. I found it seductive; I wanted to hear more, I wanted to be around such brilliance in spite of the boy’s poor manners.
    â€œA friend or close associate. But one willing to put James at risk of expulsion, should he be caught in the act. An interesting dichotomy, that. I suppose we must consider persons or a person who perceives James as a rival; but how has he gained a rival so quickly? We’ve only just arrived! So no! More likely a student, short-tempered or quick to judgment. Ah!” Sherlock went silent, staring into space as if able to see through walls. “Or . . .” He allowed the word to hang in the air, a day-old helium balloon unable to rise or fall. “Let’s consider the possibility of an adult behind these clues. Yes.” He was talking to himself, thinking aloud; I was no longer in the room. “But how, if at all, might the clues connect to the missing Bible? Perplexing, that.” He spun his chair to face me with such lightning speed that I tipped back and would have gone over had he not reached out to catch myhand—again, with a quickness more reserved for a striking snake. He righted me, returning me to balance. “As improbably and slightly foolish as it may sound,” he giggled girlishly, not at all becoming, “and with no possible motive I can discern at this exact moment, I do believe I may have hit upon it. Let’s say, for argument’s sake, an adult stole the Bible, wanting James, and James alone, to discover its contents. Thus, the clues are here to lead him to it! So I ask you