Poor Little Dead Girls (9 page)

For a moment there was silence, and then one of the other hoods spoke up.

“It’s moy-ray,” second hood said, with a little huff. “Like the Greek — ”

Sadie heard a loud thunk under the podium, followed by a little yelp of pain.

“Hey, I was just — ”

“Shut. Up,” first hood hissed. Another thunk.

Sadie was trembling again, but not out of fear.

“I am Clotho, the spinner, the giver of life,” first hood started again, voice reverting to the low bellow she probably thought was super intimidating.

“I am Lachesis, the drawer of lots,” second robe said, trying to match her tone and sounding like she might be having a mild stroke.

“I am Atropo, the inevitable.” Third hood kinda pulled it off.

Finally all three spoke at once. “We are the Fates, gatekeepers of the Order of Optimates, protectors of the brotherhood, and avengers of those who move against us.” Their voices echoed eerily in the drafty room. “You have been called before us to demonstrate your intelligence, your pedigree, your integrity, and your worth. If we deem you deserving enough to be one of us, you will be richly rewarded. If you are found wanting, you will be cast out. In either course, you will never speak of what has happened tonight. Swear upon your life, and the lives of your family members, that you will never breathe word of this to anyone.”

As their last syllable died out, she had the oddest feeling the room was much larger than she had thought. She could hear a rustling that she had originally assumed was the ocean, or tree branches scratching against a window, but now it seemed unmistakably like the sound of bodies shifting in seats, like the soft white noise in the movie theater during a tense moment. Sadie swallowed, and she heard the voice behind her clear his throat.

“Whatever. I swear.”

Her voice came out clear and strong, but her mind was working furiously trying to piece everything together. She thought about the cryptic e-mail, the cheesy dramatic robes, and her dad’s joke about prep school secret societies. She wasn’t sure whether to cry with relief or laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of it all. Minutes ago she was sure she was going to die, all for some stupid high school charade.

First hood looked to her left and right, then all three spoke as one. “The oath has been made.”

Right hood, the one who called herself “the inevitable,” spoke next. “If you break this oath, you will be punished — harshly and without mercy. Know that no matter where you are, or how long from this day, if you betray us, we will find out.” She paused, and the room filled with menacing silence. “And we do not forgive oath breakers.”

“The device you are hooked up to is a polygraph machine. The truthfulness of your answers will be recorded, and if we are not satisfied, there will be repercussions.” She looked back to first hood. “Clotho — you may begin.”

“What is your name?” she said. The bellow was back.

Sadie cleared her throat, forcing herself not to answer in the same ridiculous baritone. “Sadie. And yours?”

“Watch yourself,” the voice hissed in her ear.

“Where were you born?”

“Portland, Oregon. It’s fantastic this time of year.”

This time his voice was harsh, biting: “Last warning, Sadie.”

She clenched her teeth and leaned as far away from him as the ropes binding her would allow.

“How old are you?”

She sighed loudly. It was the middle of the night. She was cold, and the ropes around her wrists and ankles were starting to chafe. The cuff on her arm was making her hand go numb. And she didn’t want to be in some stupid secret society, anyway.

“I’m twelve — I skipped a few grades. Is that a problem?”

The light above her head went out, and suddenly there were hands around her neck. She froze, eyes wide in the sudden darkness. The hands squeezed tighter, and she felt her lungs start to strain. The voice was there again, closer — hotter — against her neck.

“I warned you.”

She felt beads of spit spraying against her earlobe. One of the hands slid forward until a thick arm was wrapped around her neck. As the grip circled tighter, it forced her chin upward until she was blinking at the ceiling, her mouth breathlessly pumping the air like a fish.

The terror was back now.

It squeezed harder, slowly crushing her throat until the blood was screaming in her ears and her whole face felt like it might explode through her eye sockets.

“No matter what you think you know about us — who we are, what we’re capable of — know that you know nothing,” the voice whispered.

She was getting dizzy, and the pressure was fading. She thought about her dad at home in their kitchen, and she was just starting to feel herself drift away when the voice whispered again, softly this time.

“Don’t you ever forget that.”

And then, as suddenly as they had come, the hands were gone and she could breathe. She drew in breath after breath, leaning forward and gasping into her trembling knees. The light above her head flipped on again, and she buried her face further into her lap. She clenched her eyes shut and willed herself to wake up back in her bed in Portland, realizing that the last two months had all been just a horrible dream.

Instead, first hood spoke: “We will begin again now. That was your only warning. Fail to show respect for this tribunal again, and you will be punished.” She spoke the last word carefully, as if she relished its taste.

“Are you a virgin?”

Sadie should have been shocked, but at this point she was too far past that. She squinted in the dim light and tried to make out something, anything about the Moirae’s faces, but all she could see was darkness beneath their black hoods.

“No sex.” She felt the blood pulsing around the cuff that was still strapped around her arm. “Other things, though.”

“What things?”

Sadie felt herself start to fold, the roomful of eyes boring into her like leeches.

“I dated a guy for a few months. We hooked up, just not … never all the way.”

“Why not?”

“I wasn’t ready, I guess. I didn’t want to.”

“Did he?”

“I guess.”

“What did you do instead?”

Even after everything, she couldn’t believe they were asking her this.

“Third base, a few times. Mostly just out.”

“Did you like it?”

She couldn’t take it anymore.

“I said, did you like it?”

The hand was on her neck again, playing with her earlobe, flicking it back and forth. She swallowed hard and tried to fight back tears.

“Fine. Yeah, of course I liked it. I’m not a robot.”

“Have you dated other guys?”

Sadie shook her head.

“Speak your answers,” the hood demanded. “Have you been tested for STIs?”

Sadie folded in on herself further. “No.”

Right hood leaned over and whispered something in first hood’s ear. They bent their heads together, then turned back to Sadie. This one wasn’t a question.

“Tell us about your mother.”

Sadie’s anger flared, and her shoulders jerked back. They could humiliate her and scare her and do whatever else they wanted, but they didn’t get to bring up her mom.

“No,” she said, teeth clenched. “She’s dead.”

“How did she die?”

“She killed herself.”

“How?”

Sadie shut her eyes tight but the tears were already flowing. They seeped out from under her lids and dripped down her cheeks. Her hands were tied, and she couldn’t wipe them away.

“She hung herself at a hospital.”

“You mean, a mental hospital?”

Eyes still closed tight. “Yes.”

“Was your mom crazy?”

“She was depressed.”

“Was she a drug addict?”

Tighter. “Yes.”

The next time the hood spoke, her voice was louder, almost baiting. “Was she a whore? Addicts usually are.”

Eyes open. Wide.

“No.” Sadie spat out the word. “And my mom is none of your business.”

The girl cocked her head to the side in a gesture that was both condescending and completely familiar. “Oh, honey. You have no idea how much it is my business. If your mom was a whore, how can we even trust that your dad is your dad? How can we trust that you are who you claim to be at all?”

Sadie took a deep breath, and when she finally spoke her voice was low and even, perfectly controlled. “My dad is my dad, and he’s ten times the man that your dad will ever be. My mom was not a whore, and she died of a disease that has no cure. And you, Thayer Wimberley, can go fuck yourself. Next question.”

She stared deep into the shadow beneath the girl’s hood, the tears now dry on her cheeks. No one moved, and nothing but darkness stared back.

She woke up feeling as if she had barely slept, her head pounding like her skull was suddenly two sizes too small. She felt like she was emerging from a bad dream, or from one of those drunken nights on TV where all the actor has left is a bunch of blurry flashes with nothing to connect them. It came back slowly — the hand over her face, the chemical smell, the dark room, and the voice spitting in her ear. She pulled the covers over her head and burrowed back into the darkness, determined to stay there until her dad could come and pick her up — take her away from here and never mention Keating again.

The questioning had gone on for what felt like hours. After her mother it was more questions about her past — whether she had ever stolen anything, whether she had ever cheated on a test, whether she had ever tried drugs or gotten drunk or been arrested. Then they had moved onto her family, asking questions about her relatives, how they died, whether they had had cancer, heart disease, questions Sadie barely even knew the answers to. She told them her mom was basically an orphan, that she didn’t even know her maternal grandparents, but that didn’t satisfy them. They had wanted to know everything about her, and by the time they were finished her head had drooped weakly against her chest, and her eyes had felt like they were filled with sand. Then, just as it had begun, it was over. The hands were on her again, pressing something cold and wet against her mouth. The voice was in her ear, and just as she was fading away she heard his last words: “Congratulations, Sadie Marlowe. You passed.”

She snoozed her alarm clock until the last possible moment, then slowly dragged herself out of bed. Black spots crowded her vision, and she steadied herself on her desk until the room stopped spinning. As she trudged past the twins’ full-length mirror, she caught sight of her dark, puffy eyes and pasty skin. This was going to be the worst practice ever.

The dining room was completely empty except for the group of girls at the lacrosse table. They were all in their practice uniforms — black, pleated skirts and the green tank tops they had worn Thursday at dinner. Sadie glanced down at her rumpled outfit and resisted the urge to walk back upstairs and go back to bed.

Instead, she plopped down at the table next to Jessica, who looked like she had rolled right out of bed and directly into her chair. Her hair was mussed, as if she had slept in her ponytail, and she peered grumpily down at her oatmeal through sleepy little slits. Sadie scanned the faces across the table. Brett’s red hair was flawlessly French braided, but she had dark bags under her eyes.

Jessica looked up at Sadie and paused, a spoonful of oatmeal poised inches from her mouth. “Yikes. Exactly how long did you spend fantasizing about you-know-who last night? You look like you slept for, like, two minutes.”

Sadie glanced around the table, but no one seemed to have heard. She cleared her throat loudly. “I don’t know, Jess. For some reason I just couldn’t sleep.”

Most of the girls glanced at her with bored looks on their faces, but Brett kept her head down, staring intently at a grapefruit half like it was about to tell her the cure for cancer.

“It’s okay, today’s just a practice. You’ll get through it,” Grace offered.

Sadie forced herself to smile. “Thanks, Grace.”

Jessica nudged her elbow as the servers finished setting her place. “Food’ll help.” She grinned. “You’re going to need a lot of it.”

In response, Sadie’s stomach growled, and suddenly a big, greasy meal sounded like the best thing in the world. She trudged up to the buffet and filled a plate with heaping servings, stacking bacon on top of her scrambled eggs once it got too full. She was still angry, but at least the shot of saturated fat would help her think straight. She plunked the delicate china back down on the table and started shoveling.

“I hope you girls are ready for this,” Thayer sang, sidling up behind them with Charlotte and two other seniors in tow. The girls drew back chairs, sending loud screeching noises through the silent room. Thayer sat down, her gaze crawling over their plates from one end of the table to the other.

“You all must be hungry,” she said lightly. “I could never eat something so heavy before a practice.” She tossed her thick ponytail over her shoulder, whipping a sophomore in the face in the process. “But maybe that’s just me.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sadie saw Grace slowly put down her fork. Sadie picked up a strip of bacon and crunched into it loudly, chewing slowly with her eyes locked on Thayer’s. Thayer met her gaze, and the corner of her lip curled up in a cold, knowing smile. Sadie stared back, but Thayer just blinked and smiled wider. Apparently they were going to pretend nothing had ever happened, and for now, Sadie could live with that. As long as Thayer and her creepy friends left her alone.

As Thayer and the others headed toward the buffet in search of egg whites, Sadie popped the last piece of bacon in her mouth and stood up. Seeing Thayer had sharpened her anger all over again, and now she could feel it stabbing her from the inside out. She looked over at Brett, Grace, and Jessica and arranged her features into a smile. “Want to head out early and warm up?”