Chapter Thirty-Two
THIRTY-TWO
Even with Allegra’s help, an hour is never going to be enough.
If there was a past incident, it would likely be in a Dux’s journal.
But it might not be there either—Annette’s accident wasn’t.
And every Dux leaves a journal anywhere from twenty to a hundred pages long.
With four societies, and a Dux every year for over a hundred years?
Needle in a haystack.
But I don’t know where else to look. Obviously we tried searching for newspaper reports of incidents at Westdale, but that got us nowhere.
I’m convinced that the one small article on Annette’s death slipped through the cracks, because there’s nothing on Jenna and there’s been nothing on Isolde.
When something goes wrong, Westdale locks down hard.
Again, that doesn’t make Westdale complicit. They’re covering their asses against negative press.
But could they be complicit? Even responsible?
I barely dare consider that. I’ve already slid headfirst into conspiracy land.
I look more closely at the Mercury journal from my mom’s year. Here I do see a reference to Annette’s death, but it’s just the Mercury Dux noting it. The Dux does say, though, that she’d personally hoped Annette would make Optima because the group could use fresh blood and fresh ideas.
That has me reading closer and learning that the Mercurys had no solid Optima contender that year themselves.
Their Dux had apparently also been backing Annette.
And then I find another comment—in light of Annette’s death, the Mercurys had agreed to switch their support to my mother.
That confirms she was officially a contender, at least briefly.
I continue skimming but find no reference to what happened after my mother left—or to her departure.
From there, I skip back to 1956—the year on the papers I found in the secret room—and I stop when I see an entry from late May.
Louis is out of the Optima race, which means I’m the lead contender.
Not sure how I feel about that. I should be overjoyed, but given the circumstances, I can’t be.
I liked Louis, and he’d have made a great addition to the Optimas.
Shake it up a little. But apparently, it’s going to be another Walker: me. Same old, same old.
I leaf through the next few entries. It seems that the Mercury Dux ended up winning.
Fresh blood and fresh ideas.
Shake it up a little.
There’s also no further mention of Louis or what actually happened to him.
I move on to the Hephaestus cabinet. This was Jenna’s society. Yes, we have no reason to believe her death is connected, but I can’t help myself. I need to see what her Dux said at the time of her death. There’s no mention of it in the Mercury journals.
To my relief, the Hephaestus Dux definitely mentions it. There’s a full page of shock and anger and grief. No suspicion, though. The Dux seems to have known that Jenna partied and that drugs were involved, and he presumes she decided to try something new.
Always so damned curious. I used to joke that if she could channel that curiosity into the classes she didn’t like, she’d have been a shoo-in for Optima. But she wasn’t interested. I know it’s a cliché, but Jenna Moreno marched to her own drum, and god she was good at it.
My eyes mist as I touch those words, memorizing them for Maddox.
There’s nothing else here for me, and the clock is ticking, but I can’t help leafing back, skimming the Dux’s journal for Jenna’s name, for anything I can take to Maddox.
I find it here and there, just references to her being at—or skipping—meetings. Then I hit one that stops me in my tracks.
So Jenna has decided there’s something odd about Taylor getting hurt. That’s Jenna. She gets an idea in her head and can’t get it out, and I’m the sucker who encourages her because I like seeing her taking an interest in anything other than coding.
I think it was a freak accident, and Taylor will be fine. They just had to drop out of the Optima race, and that sucks because they were our Hephaestus contender and they would have been a good Optima. It’s such an old boys’ club. Yes, it’s not all “boys,” but you know what I mean.
I’ll let Jenna run with this and give her what I can.
I stare down at the entry. I read it. Read it again. Then I flip back fast through the pages, looking for references to “Taylor.” I find some about twenty pages earlier, and I read as fast as I can.
As the Dux said, Taylor was a member of the Hephaestus Society and a contender for Optima.
They got attacked in Savannah and suffered a head injury.
As the Dux said, they recovered, but the resulting concussion meant they went home for a couple of weeks and had to give up the term, including their shot at Optima.
According to the Dux, it was queer bashing. A few Westdale students had been in Savannah and some guys gave them trouble. When they tried to leave, Taylor got hit from behind.
Just another accident, the sort that befalls teens who leave the safety of the Westdale campus.
Miss a stop sign and die in a car accident.
Go out dancing and get attacked in an alley.
Hit a club with friends and get gay-bashed by drunk locals.
Go to a party and accidentally overdose?
I rub my arms.
“Liliana?”
I jump.
“We need to leave,” Allegra says. “We—” She catches my expression. “You found something.”
“I don’t know. You?”
“Nothing. But that symbol irks me. I know I’ve seen it. I’ll think more on it. If we need to keep looking here, though, it’ll need to wait a few days. We can’t afford to make Dimitriou suspicious.”
—
The first thing I do is search for Louis in the library’s 1956 yearbook. I find him easily. Louis Ralston, class of 1956, Apollo Society. He’d been an artist, though I don’t find him online. I also don’t see other Ralstons in the yearbooks before or after.
The next obvious step is to ask Theo to search the Apollo Dux journals, but I need to wait a few days and get a cushion between archive searches. Ms. Dimitriou had already commented on me searching twice in a month. Having Theo search too quickly will arouse suspicions.
I have another route to try first: Cecilia. I send her Louis’s name and attendance year and hope she can find something concrete.
Next I want to talk to Theo about Jenna. I don’t have enough to justify taking this to Maddox yet, but nor can I withhold it from him for long without being patronizing.
I don’t hear any of my next class. While we’re supposed to be taking notes, I’m jotting down secure investigation notes in a brainstorming cloud as I try to make connections. Or, more to the point, I try to avoid making wrong connections.
Annette Donleavy was a scholarship student, and the Mercury Dux talked about her bringing fresh ideas to the Optimas.
Louis Ralston was an artist who doesn’t seem to have been from a legacy Westdale family. The Mercury Dux said that he was likely to win in Louis’s place, “another Walker.” Same old, same old.
Then there’s Taylor. They’re from a family I’ve seen in the yearbooks, but one that doesn’t have deep ties to Westdale. When I look them up, I find that they sold their manufacturing empire about thirty years ago and now run a charity foundation using the proceeds.
What do all these Optima candidates have in common?
They’re outsiders. Like Theo. Yes, Theo is from a very successful family, but he’s a wild card, and, as he pointed out, the Optimas already have a film-making Dubois.
What was it the Hephaestus Dux said?
Such an old boys’ club.
And maybe they’re determined to keep it that way.
—
I spend my study time alternately messaging Theo and continuing to put together the pieces of this case. I haven’t heard back from Cecilia, and I won’t bug her. I don’t have any proof that my “clue” from 1956 is more than an offhand reference to someone dropping out of the Optima race.
When it’s dinnertime, I message Maddox, saying I’ll pick him up at his room.
I knock, and he opens the door and then backs up, as if he knew what I really meant was that I want to talk to him.
“You found out something about Jenna,” he says as I shut the door.
I go still.
“No, Theo didn’t say anything,” Maddox says. “He wouldn’t. But you went through the archive journals at lunch and you’ve been avoiding me ever since.”
“I’m sorry.”
He watches me, his expression unreadable, and I want to go to him, feel his hands around my waist as he pulls me close, tells me it’s okay, he understands.
That expression says it is not okay.
And what I’m about to tell him won’t help.
“I found something, and I’m not sure if it’s anything, but I need more time.”
His gaze shutters. “You don’t want me jumping on it. Overreacting.”
“No, I’m afraid I’m overreacting. Or under-reacting. I can’t even tell. My brain is spinning, and I feel like I’m spiraling into paranoia and conspiracy theories, and I don’t want to pull you in with me.”
“Because you think I can’t handle it. I’m unstable, and you don’t want to push me over the edge.”
“That’s not—” I shake my head. “Who knows what I’m thinking?
I’m barely sure of my own name right now, Maddox.
” I laugh, the sound raw and shaky. “Which is a really shitty analogy, because I’m not sure of my own name.
It was Green, but that’s apparently fake.
Now I’m going by Chamberlain, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want that one either. ”
I rub my face. “I’m blathering. Fine. Whatever. You want to know, and I’m sure as hell not the person to be making decisions for anyone else right now. Jenna—”
Maddox pulls my hands from my face and cuts me off with a kiss. And I break down, shaking and sobbing, and he pulls me tight against him.
“I’m sorry, Lili,” he whispers. “I hit low with that, and it wasn’t fair.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe I’m being patronizing or—”
He hugs me again. “You’re not. If you and Theo agreed to hold off, then I need to step back.”