The Academy

Chapter Eighteen

After Carlisle fetched Lindsay and Aspen, all of us met up in the foyer, dressed head to toe in black. We looked like we were either about to crash a funeral or rob a bank.

"What are we even looking for?" Lindsay asked, tugging the sides of her black beanie over her tiny pale ears.

"The door that the key unlocks," Carlisle said with the utmost confidence, as if she already knew that we were going to find the door. She pulled the key out of the pocket of her tight-fitting black jeans and flashed it at us. "It's probably some type of staff room or janitor closet, but it must be important."

And with that, we dispersed, each of us searching for a door with an unusual lock. Nothing. The key didn't fit in any of them, and with that, our energy began to disappear. Half an hour later, we reassembled in the foyer, each of us annoyed and exhausted.

Marisol's eyes were still puffy from crying, making her look even more tired than she really was, and she laid down against the wall, rubbing her forehead. "It's no use. There's nothing we can do."
 

"We've got to keep searching," Carlisle pleaded, the key between the palms of her hands. "I have a feeling we're going to find it."


"No, we won't, Carlisle," Aspen said. "All the locks have probably been changed by then. It's been fifty years. Give it a break so we can go to bed. It's been a long night."
 

"Shut up, Aspen. Why are you so pessimistic?"

"I'm not pessimistic. I'm being real. Why are you so interested in finding what that key unlocks, anyways?"

Carlisle pursed her red lips together, gathering a comeback. "Honestly, I don't know. But isn't it weird that out of all the people at this school, somehow we've come across all these leads about what may've actually happened to Vivienne Aldridge?"

Aspen shrugged. "It's probably a coincidence. If the police couldn't figure out what happened to Vivienne, what makes you think we can?"

"Maybe they didn't know where to look."

"Stop with this shit, Carlisle. You don't even know what you're talking about."

Carlisle's jaw dropped and she shoved Aspen backwards, sending her flying against the wall beside a decorative coffee table that held an array of trophies. The wall seemed to be pushed back, uncovering a small sliver of darkness. Lindsay made her way over to it and, with a large amount of bravery, she stuck her hand into it.

"Guys!" she hissed. "It's a hidden door. And it's really heavy on my hand. Someone help!"

All five of us pushed on the wall as hard as we could, revealing the last thing we expected to see. A lock.

"There's no way," Aspen mumbled to herself as Carlisle reached into the front pocket of her jeans for the key. As carefully as she could, she stuck it in the lock, gave it a twist, and click.

"Oh, my gosh," I heard myself say. Carlisle pushed the hidden door back, exposing a dark room. I fumbled for a light switch on the wall, and finally found one, although I could feel cobwebs on it. I flipped it up anyways, and the whole room was illuminated, including the person who sat in the middle of the room on a chair, reading a book that sat in the lap of her white puffy dress.

Each of us gasped, and at the same time, we all said, "Ivy?"