Hazed Page 3

  It’s true. I see girls. I definitely see them. It’s just that when I talk to them, they also see me. And that means they see me blushing. Yes, I actually blush when I talk to girls. So a lot of times I just sort of keep my distance.

  Joe here. I just wanted to say that I wish I could work the blush thing. Girls eat it up. They think it’s so cute. They fall all over Frank, the ‘shy’ boy, even though it is factually true that I am the better looking one.

  I’m telling this part of the story, Joe. Get out of here.

  “Wes has the opposite problem,” Keith said. “He thinks he knows exactly what to say—and he says it to every girl he gets near. It doesn’t really work for him.”

  There was another knock on the door. “Enter!” Wes called out.

  Two guys walked into the room in silence, their heads down. They carried trays with glasses of soda and bowls of chips.

  “Put those on the desk,” Keith said. “Then return to the hall and wait for orders.”

  The boys with the trays obeyed in silence. They set down the trays and backed out of the room. Yeah, backed out.

  Freaky.

  “Okay, how do I train Joe to do that?” I asked. “Fear,” Keith answered.

  “Those are new guys. It’s the first semester here for both of them,” Douglas explained. “It’s a tradition at the academy that the new guys act as servants for the old guys.”

  “Yeah. And I am loving every minute of having a personal slave,” Wes said. He stood up and wandered over to the chips. “Hey. There’s no barbecue chips. I’m deeply disappointed.” He grabbed a handful of sour cream and onion, then gave the bowl to me.

  “Did you ask for barbecue?” Keith asked.

  “Yeah,” Wes said as he crunched.

  “Call them back in here and make them get you barbecue,” Keith instructed.

  “It’s not such a biggie.” He grinned. “But what are servants for, right?” He pounded on the wall with his fist. “Meat! Get in here!” Wes bellowed.

  The door swung open one second later, and the two boys entered again, heads lowered.

  “I asked for barbecue chips. And I do not see barbecue chips on the tray!” Wes shouted.

  “The store was out, so we got—” one of the so-called servants began.

  “Did he give you permission to speak?” Keith blasted.

  “I didn’t hear him give you permission to speak,” Douglas cried.

  “Both of you. On the floor. Give me fifty,” Wes ordered.

  The servants dropped down to the ground and started doing push-ups. “Want me to get the bowls of water?” Keith asked.

  “Nah. This will work.” Wes sat down on the nearest servant, who continued the push-ups with probably a hundred and seventy-five pounds on his back. He cracked up as he rode the guy up and down.

  “I’ll get the other one!” Keith volunteered. He didn’t wait for an answer. He flung himself on top of the second servant. I heard the guy let out a grunt, and his push-up rate slowed down. “No slacking, or I’ll give you another fifty,” Keith warned him.

  I silently counted the push-ups, wanting this to be over. The servant closest to me was really starting to sweat. Dark, wet splotches had appeared on his T-shirt under his arms and around his neck.

  The other servant was breathing hard. Long, wheezing breaths that made me want to ask if he needed an inhaler or something.

  “That’s fifty,” Joe said. I realized he’d been counting too.

  Wes stood up. “Next time I ask for barbecue, I better get barbecue,” he told the servants. “Even if it means firing up the grill and slapping on the sauce yourselves. Now, get out until we call you.”

  He laughed as the boys backed out of the room. Laughed like he was watching his favorite Adam Sandler movie or something. Was he laughing while Roy Duffy started to have a heart attack?

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Wes August

  Hometown: New York, New York

  Physical description: Age 17, 5’11”, 177 lbs., red hair, blue eyes, pale, skin

  Occupation: Student

  Background: Eagle River Academy scholarship student, class clown, only child.

  Suspicious behavior: Loves having “servants.” Things it’s funny to hand out punishments to them.

  Suspected of: Hazing Roy Duffy, leading to Roy’s death.

  Possible motives: Wants to fit in with the Eagle Rock Academy guys whose families have gone to the academy from way back. Has a twisted sense of humor.

  “You should have let me get the bowls of water,” Keith complained.

  “Bowls of poop would have been funnier. If we’d had some bowls of poop lying around, I definitely would have used them.”

  “Bowls?” I repeated. I didn’t get how you’d use them with push-ups.

  “Yeah. One of the guys who was a senior when I first came here always made us do push-ups with big bowls of water under our faces. We had to completely submerge our heads every time we went down,” Keith explained. “One time I didn’t go far enough, and the guy held my head under until I saw stars. Actual bright white stars on the inside of my eyelids.”

  Whoa.

  Douglas must have seen the shock on my face. “Like he said, Keith’s not doing anything to them that wasn’t done to us. You should hear some of my dad’s stories about the year he had to be a servant.”

  “I definitely like being the one to give the orders,” Keith said. “It’s much sweeter on this side of things.”

  He sounded as if he really wanted payback for everything that had been done to him. Except he was paying back the wrong people. The new group of servants weren’t the ones who had half drowned the guy.

  SUSPECT PROFILE

  Name: Keith Brownlee

  Hometown: Kansas City, Missouri

  Physical description: Age 18, 5’5” 159 lbs., light brown hair, brown eyes

  Occupation: Student

  Background: Picked on in elementary school for being the littlest kid in class; youngest of three brothers; outstanding in math and science.

  Suspicious behavior: Encourages harsher punishment of “servants.”

  Suspected of: Hazing Roy Duffy, leading to Roy’ s death.

  Possible motive: Resents the harsh treatment he got when he was a “servant” and wants to pass it along.

  “It is good to be king,” Wes agreed. “I think I’m going to make the next servant who messes up wear boxers with hearts on them. Everyone will see them in the locker room.”

  “Who cares?” Keith asked. “That’s not punishment.”

  “So I guess going through a year as a servant is what you were talking about when you said that at the academy you bond over the tough stuff you go through,” Joe said to Douglas.

  “What?” Keith shot a sharp look at Douglas. Wes raised his eyebrows.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Douglas answered. “I mean, going through first year together is part of why the three of us are such good friends.”

  “True,” Wes agreed.

  “You can’t go through living in fear for a year without getting tight with the guys who are by your side,” Keith added. This time he got the what-did-you-just-say look from Douglas.

  “Living in fear?” I asked.

  “Fear of having your arms fall off from doing too many push-ups,” Douglas said quickly.

  I didn’t believe him.

  Joe and I needed a way to get some firsthand information. I popped a chip into my mouth. An idea came to me as I chewed. “So I’m a new guy. Joe, too. How come we’re getting served instead of being servants?” I asked.

  “You’re only here for two weeks. For the exchange program,” Douglas explained. “It doesn’t really count.”

  “The exchange was supposed to give us the total picture of life at the academy,” Joe jumped in. He got what I was planning. He pretty much always does.

  “Yeah, it doesn’t seem fair if we get special treatment,” I added. “Do we look like wimps or something?”

&nbs
p; Then I waited while Keith, Douglas, and Wes had one of what Joe calls eyeball conversations.

  “You want the complete academy experience? You’ve got it,” Keith said. He grabbed the pillow from my bed and yanked off the case.

  Then he blindfolded me with it.

  Two seconds later my wrists were tied behind my back.

  “Neither of you move until we get back,” Keith ordered.

  5.

  In the Cellar, No One Can Hear You Scream

  “Great plan, Frank,” I whispered.

  “Our mission is to find out what really happened to Roy,” Frank whispered back. “This is the way to do it. Put ourselves in Roy’s position.”

  “Except for the dead part, let’s hope,” I said. “It’s going to be kind of hard to do information gathering with blindfolds on, don’t you think?” I was careful to keep my voice low. “With the not being able to see and everything.”

  “You knew what I was trying to do—and you helped,” Frank pointed out.

  “Yeah, because it’s a great plan,” I admitted.

  Frank gave a soft laugh. “We should cut the chatter. We don’t know when they’ll be coming back.”

  I answered with silence.

  And waited. And waited.

  I hate waiting anyway. But waiting for something bad to happen? Forget about it.

  Still, all I could do was wait some more. I felt like someone was stomping around in my stomach. Giving the walls a kick every now and then.

  Finally I heard the door open. Then a swish-swish-swish sound. And someone pulled me to my feet.

  I felt something slide over my head and down my body. Something light and soft. A robe, I realized. Like the ones the guys were wearing in the ATAC video.

  Yeah, it was definitely a robe. I could feel it brushing against my legs as … somebody walked me out of the room and down a hall. Then down some stairs. Along another hall. Then down some more stairs.

  The air was colder now. And I could hear my footsteps—and the footsteps of the other guys—echoing. The cellar. We were walking down the steps into the cellar.

  “Kneel!” a voice boomed out.

  I didn’t recognize the voice. It didn’t even sound human.

  “Keel!” the inhuman voice commanded again. I realized I hadn’t obeyed the first time. Before I could, what felt like a hockey stick whacked me behind the knees. Not that hard. But hard enough to make me drop to the ground.

  “You have declared your desire to join the ranks of academy men,” The Voice continued. That’s how I’d started thinking of it. With a capital T and a capital V “Academy men are—”

  “Fearless!” a chorus of voices shouted.

  How many guys were down here with me and Frank? It sounded like at least twenty. Twenty against two. Not exactly the best odds. But two of us were trained ATAC agents. That counted for something.

  Right?

  “Before you may even consider joining our ranks, you must prove that you are fearless as well,” The Voice explained. “You have one chance to refuse the tests that you will be given. That time is now. If you choose to accept the tests of the Order, you will have to face them all. You will either pass, or spend eternity in the cellar with the others who have failed. How do you choose?”

  “I accept,” Frank said.

  “I’m in,” I answered.

  That’s when the chanting started up. Yeah, chanting. In Latin. At least I’m pretty sure it was Latin. They don’t teach Latin at Bayport.

  Slowly the chanting died down.

  “To begin, you must pay homage to the first member of our Order. Kiss the hand of the Old One,” The Voice said over the chanting.

  No problem. I didn’t think you had to be fearless to pucker up and smooch some old dude’s hand. Then I felt the hand. And it was all bone. Not bony. Just bone.

  The Old One was dead.

  And I was holding the hand of his skeleton.

  But what could I do? I kissed it. It smelled like dirt. Like it had just been dug up.

  The chanting got louder.

  “Now one of you must sacrifice blood. It is blood that keeps the Order strong,” The Voice proclaimed. “You! The Old One has selected you!”

  Hands grabbed my shoulders and my legs. Hands covered my mouth. I was carried away as I heard a long, shrill shriek of pain.

  Frank? Was that Frank?

  I twisted my body back and forth. I kicked out with my legs. I had to get to my brother. What were they doing to him?

  The hands—so many hands—that held me were too strong. I couldn’t break free. Even when I heard another howl of agony. Even when the howl cut off abruptly, trailing off into a soft, wet gurgling sound.

  Then silence.

  Abruptly, all the hands released me, and I tumbled to the ground. I struggled to my feet. And my blindfold was whipped off. Someone untied my wrists.

  I scanned my surroundings. I was in a small chamber that had to be just off the main cellar. I hadn’t been carried far. Ten figures robed in black stood before me. Their hoods were pulled low, concealing their faces.

  And over in the corner … I felt my stomach heave. Over in the corner was Frank. Dressed in a white robe, like the one I had on, the hood pulled down to his chin.

  “What did you do to him?” I screamed. Frank’s robe had a splotch of crimson on the front. A splotch that widened as I watched.

  “He was chosen to make the sacrifice,” The Voice said. “It is an honor.”

  I started toward my brother, but two of the black-robed figures blocked my way.

  “Now we must all drink, so that his sacrifice will not have been in vain,” The Voice continued. The black-robed figure directly across from me pulled a tarnished metal chalice out from behind his back. He raised it to his lips—and drank. When he lowered the cup, I could see his mouth. And it was stained with red.

  Blood, I thought. Frank’s blood.

  The figure handed the chalice to me. The metal felt cold in my fingers.

  “Drink,” The Voice commanded.

  I raised the chalice to my lips.

  6.

  Drink the Blood

  I gripped the cold metal chalice with both hands. I couldn’t stop myself from looking over at Joe’s body lying in the corner. Was he okay? There was so much blood on the white robe. I couldn’t see his face. The hood was pulled too low.

  “Drink!” the guy with the strange horror-movie voice ordered. I could see his lips under the edge of his hood. They were smeared with red. With blood. Joe’s blood.

  I raised the cup to my mouth. I figured the best way to help Joe was to follow instructions. Maybe after I drank, they’d let me go over to him.

  I forced myself to take a swallow of the blood.

  The taste of it made my stomach turn inside out. It wasn’t blood. It was … I wasn’t sure what. There was definitely mayonnaise in the mix. And fish oil. And maybe Tabasco sauce.

  What was going on?

  One of the guys flung off his hood. Wes. He was laughing. So was everybody else. “You should have seen your face when you tasted the brew!” Wes told me.

  I started toward Joe—and this time no one tried to stop me. I dropped to my knees next to him and pulled back his hood. The blank eyes of a CPR practice dummy stared up at me.

  The guys around me laughed harder. I laughed too. I couldn’t believe they’d psyched me out so good. “Okay where’s Joe?” I asked.

  “Right here,” Joe answered. He stepped into the side chamber, surrounded by a bunch more guys in black. They all had their hoods off “They were doing the same thing to me in another room. Happy to see you’re not dead, bro.”

  “Now we’re going to par-tay,” Keith announced. “And you two are going upstairs with the rest of the servants. They’ll take you through the rules of proper behavior,” he told me and Joe.

  “Come on. I’ll take you back up,” Douglas said. He led the way back into the main cellar. “We can leave the robes down here.” He yanked his off
and dropped it on the floor. Joe and I threw ours on top of it. Then we headed up the cellar stairs.

  Douglas took us up one more flight of stairs, then down a hall. He opened a door without knocking. The seven guys inside leaped to their feet, lowered their heads, and asked, “What do you desire, sir?”

  “Teach these two everything they need to know,” Douglas told them. Then he turned and left, closing the door behind him.

  The guys immediately all flopped back down on the sofas and chairs scattered around the room. “Welcome to the first-year lounge,” one of the boys said. I recognized him as one of the two so-called servants who’d brought the chips and sodas to Joe’s and my room earlier. The ones who had to do the push-ups.

  “What? No pool table?” Joe asked.

  “Just computers and bookshelves,” the boy answered. “I’m Bobcat Ellroy, by the way.”

  The other guy who’d served the chips and stuff with Bobcat laughed. “He’s Bobby. The Bobcat thing is a lame attempt to give himself a nickname.”

  “And he’s Keaton. He needs a nickname much worse than I do,” Bobby shot back, grinning.

  “What are you guys doing in here?” Keaton asked. “An hour ago we were waiting on you. What happened?”

  “We told Douglas and the others that we wanted the straight-up Eagle River Academy. We said we wanted to know what it would be like if we’d actually just started here,” Joe explained. “A couple minutes later, we were blindfolded and being marched down to the cellar.”

  That got the attention of pretty much every boy in the lounge. “No way. I’m not hearing this,” a guy with curly black hair exclaimed. “You two asked to be servants? When you could have spent two weeks sitting around, ordering us to wipe your heinies?”

  “That’s something I like to do myself,” I answered.

  The boy shook his head. “It’s true what they say about public school kids. You are a lot stupider than we are.”

  “But more polite,” Keaton commented. “As you can tell by Exhibit A over there. Also known as Gabe.” He pointed to the black-haired boy who’d basically just called me and Joe idiots.