Read Online Secret of the Sevens by Lynn Lindquist - Free Book Online Page A

Laney concentrates on the note, her face as grim as the room around us.
    The muscles in my back and neck grow tense. “The darkness is really freaking me out,” I confess. “I think I should tell you—”
    Her head jerks up. “That’s it—the darkness! The poem!”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œThe poem we had to memorize: ‘When darkness fills you up with fright, tread straight, straight, straight into the night.’ We’re supposed to go straight into the tunnel.”
    â€œAre you insane? What if it’s a furnace or something?”
    â€œIt’s not a furnace, it’s a utility tunnel. I gave parent tours for student council last year, and we talked about how this was a small college before William Singer bought the property. A lot of older colleges used underground tunnels to deliver coal and stuff between the buildings.”
    â€œOkay, fine, so it’s a utility tunnel. Where does it go?”
    â€œThere’s only one way to find out.”
    She takes my arm and tows me forward, but I yank it free. “Wait! I need to tell you something. I, uh … I’m claustrophobic. I don’t know if I can do this.”
    She gives me her shut up Talan look and reaches for my hand, but I jerk it away.
    Her jaw drops. “Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you were joking. Wait—we’ve lived half our lives together and I never knew that? How come you never mentioned it before?”
    I rub my hands together so she doesn’t see them shake. “Why would I tell anyone that?”
    â€œWell, how come you were fine in the elevator?”
    â€œElevators are bright and the ride is short. I hate dark, closed spaces. They freak me out.” The muscles in my back and neck feel like rocks.
    â€œI’m sorry.” She stares up the shaft where the elevator abandoned us. “I don’t know what else we can do, though. That tunnel is our only way out now.” She walks over to the passageway and shines her light down it. “The hallway is a decent size, if that helps. It’s just dark.” She looks back at me, pity in her eyes.
    My stomach rumbles like the washing machine when I stuff too much in there.
    â€œAre you going to be okay?” Her eyes scan the walls again, looking for anything she might have missed. When they land back on mine, they’re full of concern. “Do you want to wait here? I can go alone and try to find a way out.”
    â€œNo, I’m okay.” Except for my exploding heart and the radioactive nausea building in my gut. “We’ll go together.”
    She comes alongside me and hooks her arm around mine, squeezing it tight. “I’ll help you the whole time, don’t worry.”
    I want to pretend I’m fine, but it’s no use. One step in and the tunnel feels tighter than a noose. I take deep breaths and shuffle down the passage.
    Our beams of light bounce around an arched passageway lined with disintegrating bricks. It’s humid and stuffy, like a clammy summer night by a dirty river. The deeper we go, the more the air reeks of mildew and decay, a cross between vomit and rotting fish. I swallow to keep from gagging, but it’s no use. My stomach is already upset. I pull my arm away, spin around, and puke all over the wall.
    Laney rubs my back, but I nudge her hand away. Between gags, I warn her, “If you tell anyone about this I swear I’ll kill you, Shanahan.”
    She strokes my shoulder. “Of course I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
    I’m humiliated and pissed and I swear the minute I figure out who’s behind this, I’m going to pummel them until they’re throwing up too. I wipe my mouth with my sleeve and steady myself against the wall. I figure Laney will gag at the sight and smell. Instead, she wedges herself under my arm and helps me up.
    â€œC’mon.” She squeezes my hand. “You can do this. I’m here for