The Last Harvest(46)

“Tyler used a coat hanger,” Ali explains. “Bent it up to make it look like the Preservation Society symbol, you know … the bull with the two horns and hoofs.”

“But we got wasted.” Ben laughs. “Mr. Miller’s rye is no f*cking joke.”

“I don’t care what you guys say.” Tyler rolls up his sleeve to show me. “I still think it’s cool. It looks tribal or something.”

“It looks like a demented smiley face, or frowny face, depending on how you look at it,” Tammy says under her breath.

“I heard that, Tammy,” Tyler snaps, but then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Fine. Maybe it wasn’t my best idea.”

Ali smooths her hair down. “I’m just glad I had enough sense to put it somewhere I could cover it up. But do you guys remember Ben that night?” She tries to stifle a grin. “Ben wanted it in the middle of his forehead. Can you imagine?”

They all start cracking up at the memory and I can see it in their faces—they’re telling the truth, or what they believe is the truth. I mean, who knows what really happened … they all just admitted they were wasted. Maybe they don’t know what’s really happening to them.

“Hey, Tate,” Ben says as he dries his eyes. “I’m just curious. What’d you think it meant?”

I could make something up, laugh it off, but this could be my shot. Tyler’s always been so easy to read. If they’ve been marked for the Devil, and they know about it, maybe I’ll be able to tell.

“The mark,” I say as I drag my heel in the dirt making an upside-down U with two dots above and below. “It looks really similar to this ancient symbol called the Devil’s Portal.”

“The Devil, huh?” Tyler smirks, but there’s something in his eyes, an intensity, that doesn’t match his casual appearance. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been spending a little too much time with Miss Granger.”

“Miss Granger?” I narrow my eyes. I can tell by the way he’s leaning against his car, the careful way he’s holding his body, that he’s trying to sell me something, but what? I decide to take the bait. “And what would that have to do with Miss Granger?”

“You don’t know about her?” Ali pulls on her fleece jacket, rubbing her arms.

“Seriously, Clay?” Tammy rolls her eyes. “I know you’re a football player, but do you have to be such a cliché? You think we just happened to get an Ivy League counselor … in Midland? Please.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ben shakes his head. “She’s been spoutin’ off that Devil shit for years.”

“Years? But she just moved here last year.”

“Or just got out,” Tammy murmurs.

“Out? Out of where? College?”

“Oakmoor,” they answer in unison.

“What? That’s impossible.” I whisper, but there’s something about it that registers on the back of my neck, something about it that rings true. I remember that look in her eyes when she told me not to tell anyone about this or they’d send me to Oakmoor, like she knew firsthand what that was like. “I thought she was just a volunteer over there.”

“Checked herself in two years ago, right after Harvard,” Tyler says as he looks at himself in the side mirror and then pops it back in place. “But I’d still do her.”

Tammy and Ali smack him at the same time. “What?” He laughs. “She’s hot.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask.

“We overheard the council talking about it last year, debating whether they were going to take her on … give her a chance at rehabilitation.”

“That’s why all of us have had to go to counseling this year,” Tammy says.

“It’s a charity thing.” Ben cracks his neck. “But I had no idea Jimmy actually needed it.”

I think about everything Miss Granger told me. What if it was all a lie? Nothing more than the ramblings of a crazy person. And what does that say about me that I was more willing to believe the town was possessed by the Devil—that I was a prophet—over facing the reality that my dad was probably schizophrenic and I might have it, too? I mean, what proof did I actually have of any of this? The marks, sure … but like they said, they were drunk. Their story makes sense. And Jimmy killing himself. People kill themselves all the time. It doesn’t mean the Devil’s in town. No one really knew him. He was a weird kid. Maybe he felt so guilty about what he did to Jess that he couldn’t live with himself.

Or … maybe Miss Granger checked herself into Oakmoor as a way to infiltrate the community. Maybe this is exactly what she wants them to think. Maybe this was her plan all along.

Anything’s possible at this point.

Ali reaches out for my arm, breaking my train of thought. “I don’t mind going to see Miss Granger for counseling. She’s helped me a lot this year.”

I study her, trying to figure out if she’s talking in some kind of code. Maybe she’s trying to tell me she knows about it, too. Maybe I’m not alone in all this.

“Have you guys ever noticed the way Miss Granger’s always scratching her head when she gets nervous?” Tyler asks.