Lauren was encouraged that her friends had immediately decided to back down upon hearing that her sister had received the creepy text message. They didn’t have any proof that the Society was responsible, but the mere possibility that there could be more violence in the future was enough to keep them all in line.
Of course, this was exactly what the Society wanted them to think. But maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to work more covertly. Lauren trusted that Nick and the others would come up with some kind of plan. The best she could do was to play along once she found out what it was.
The next Society meeting was held on Friday night at a special location: the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The twenty-nine Conscripts-the older class of fourteen and the younger class of fifteen-were asked to meet in the lobby of the museum at seven P.M. Claire Chilton’s mother, Letty, appeared when the group had assembled and motioned for everyone to follow her into the Egyptian wing. Security guards stood by the cases of artifacts, just as they would during museum hours. When the group entered the main area, the Temple of Dendur was lit up beautifully in a wash of red and lavender, as if for a special event. Four rows of chairs sat facing the temple, and everyone took their seats.
Letty Chilton stood in front of the group and began speaking.
“You’re probably all wondering why you’re here,” Mrs. Chilton said. “We wanted to bring you here tonight so that you could all see the beauty of the temple up close. I know many of you have grown up with Dendur practically in your backyard, but you may not have had the chance really to look at it. We’ll have the opportunity to do that later. For now, we’re going to discuss a very important event that is coming up.”
Nick yawned, and Claire glared at him as her mother continued speaking.
“I have some exciting news that I think will send you all over the moon! On February 13, Valentine’s Day eve, the museum is throwing a benefit party, a revival of the Dendur Ball, an event that last occurred in the early 1990s. The Met will be celebrating the renovations on the new Egyptian wing-work that, as you know, was funded by the Bradford Trust Association. Anonymously, of course. The museum has asked us to take a leadership role in the planning of this event. And I know it will be a lot of fun!” Letty Chilton punched the air with her wrinkled fist as if at a pep rally, and a few members of the group twittered at the intense awkwardness of the presentation.
Lauren shifted in her seat. How could the Society be so cavalier about hosting another event after so much had gone awry? She focused on Phoebe, Nick, Patch, and Thad, which gave her the courage to stay.
Mrs. Chilton continued. “We’re excited to announce that all of you will be serving on the Junior Committee. My daughter, Claire, will be chairing the committee and handling its meetings. Your job will primarily be to get the younger generation involved in the museum. You can sell tickets to your classmates, to your friends. We have a special price for the under-twenty-ones. Remember, patronage of the arts starts at a young age. This is our cultural heritage, this museum and others in the city. It’s our job to make sure that it is preserved.”
Not another committee. It all seemed like a ruse to steer people’s attention away from the awful things that had happened in November and December. Lauren cast a sideways glance at Phoebe, Nick, Patch, and Thad. They all looked bored.
Later, over refreshments-sugary punch and stale butter cookies-she talked to Phoebe. “What do you think about all this?” she asked.
“I guess going along with this is part of our keeping in line?” Phoebe said.
“Something like that.”
Claire came up to Lauren. “How are you, Lauren? It’s nice to see you here.”
Lauren nodded.
“I was so sorry to hear about the little incident at Giroux this week. It must have been a mistake, right? I mean, when I was talking about it to Sebastian, I told him I know you, and there is no way you would ever steal a pair of earrings!”
She gave Claire a frigid look, but it didn’t stop Lauren from reddening. “Sure, whatever, Claire. Thanks for having my back.”
Phoebe pulled Lauren away, rescuing her. “Let’s go talk to Nick.”
Lauren gritted her teeth. “Claire just makes me so angry, sometimes I feel like I could kill her.”
“I know, we all do,” Phoebe said. “She’s a loser; you can’t let it get to you.”
They walked up to Nick, who was drinking a glass of punch.
“You really sure you want to be drinking that?” Phoebe said.
“If I die of cyanide poisoning, I guess we’ll know what happened,” Nick said.
Lauren and Phoebe gave him blank looks.
“Sorry, bad joke,” he said.
At that moment, Patch joined the group. “Nick, there’s something I need to show you.”
“Now?” Nick put down his glass on a side table.
Patch nodded. “Right now.”