Tom Dolby - The Trust

“I need to talk to you about something,” Charles said. “Actually, to both of you. I’ve been asked by the Council of Regents to be a mentor to both of you, since neither of you has one currently.”

It was true. Jared had been Nick’s mentor, and Patch hadn’t been assigned one yet.

“What about Jeremy?” Nick asked. “And aren’t you already Bradley Winston’s mentor?” Jeremy Hopkins had been Alejandro’s mentor, so it would have been logical to pair up Jeremy with Patch.

Charles laughed. “Bradley is doing just fine. And I’m not really sure Jeremy’s up to the challenge. He’s a little busy right now with some kind of art project that he’s doing with Anastasia.” He looked at Nick. “Your dad asked me personally that I be a mentor to the two of you.”

“Whatever,” Nick said, shrugging. “I guess it’s fine.”

“Why don’t you and Patch go get changed?” Charles asked. “The water feels great.”

Nick scowled. “Not tonight.” He laughed a little, mostly out of nervousness. “I don’t see how you can just relax after everything that’s happened,” he muttered.

“What do you mean?” Charles asked.

“Um, I don’t know,” Nick said. “Maybe that two people died last semester? Why does no one seem to care about that?”

“Nick, accidents happen. Everyone knows that. You can’t dwell on the past. Come on, have a drink, come and hang out with the other members. People are starting to think you’re a bit of a snob, the way you only talk to your friends.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Nick said. “We’re fine where we are. We’ll watch from the side.”

Nick knew he was supposed to pretend that nothing was wrong, but when someone like Charles came along and provoked him, he couldn’t stay silent. He wasn’t going to let on about his grandfather’s challenge and his offer to get him and his friends out of the Society-that would just be stupid. But he also figured that Charles and the others might be suspicious if he and Patch suddenly seemed like they were going along with everything, no questions asked.

“Suit yourself.” Charles shrugged and walked away.

As Nick looked at the other members, they disgusted him as they horsed around in the pool. Two of the guys, both slim and tan, tried to throw one of the girls in, the three of them fell in together, and then she retaliated by dunking their heads underwater. He heard snippets of conversation echoing around the room: I got my early acceptance a few days ago… Yale… Harvard… vacation in St. Barts… ski house in Aspen… I know!… Grab me another drink?… SAT scores? Well, I’m not going to worry about something that doesn’t even affect me!

Nick nudged Patch. “What do you think?”

His friend seemed chagrined. “I don’t know. Would I be wrong to say that it actually looks like fun? I know I’m not supposed to think that. But I can see how everyone’s gotten sucked into it. The perks aren’t bad. And the view-I think this might be the most beautiful view I’ve ever seen in Manhattan.”

“It’s true,” Nick said. “But we can’t let ourselves be so enchanted by it. I need to be more careful, though. I thought I was going to lose it in front of Charles.”

“He’s a snake,” Patch said. “He’s become, like, your father’s little errand boy.”

“Yeah, right-since I never exactly fulfilled that role, and my brothers are away at school.”

“Hey, don’t beat yourself up,” Patch said. “You’re doing what’s right. Charles will get what’s coming to him someday. What I want to know, though, is, do you think it was always like this? I mean, if our parents were-or, in your case, are-in it, I can’t believe that all the terrible stuff we saw on the island is what it’s always been about. Why would they ever join a group like that?”

Nick shook his head. “I’m not sure. Maybe there was some kind of golden age for the Society that we missed. My father said that the Power of Fourteen”-his voice lowered-“started in the 1960s. In this pool, actually. Which is totally wacked, I know. Someone drowned during a ritual and they all had to keep it quiet, since everyone felt like it was their fault.”

“Maybe it’s like with a lot of things,” Patch said. “It starts out good and then it turns evil. It gets corrupted when it doesn’t know what to do with its own power.”

Nick nodded. “But I think everyone here-or at least a lot of the people here-have no idea how bad it is. They think it’s a social organization, with all the charitable stuff and the parties and the donations made by the Bradford Trust Association. But that’s all a smoke screen.”

The Administrator approached Nick and Patch from across the room, and Nick knew they had to cease their conversation.

“Hello, Nicholas,” she said. Katherine Winthrop Stapleton, known to many members as the Administrator, was a longtime member of the Society and was in charge of keeping records. She was an older woman and didn’t tolerate any nonsense from the younger members. She also protected their parents, many of whom were Elders themselves, from having to discipline their own children about Society matters.

Nick nodded a wary hello.

“I’ve noted that everyone is present tonight except for Phoebe Dowling, Lauren Mortimer, and Thaddeus Johnson. Do you know their whereabouts?”

Nick shook his head. “I think some of them were sick.”

“It was made very clear early on that if someone is ill, they are to check in with me beforehand in order to get permission to miss the meeting.”

“I don’t know what happened, Miss Stapleton,” Nick said. “Maybe they were too sick to remember.”

She made a few notes on her pad and then retreated to the paneled anteroom. She pushed one of the panels, it opened, and she stepped inside, closing the panel behind her.

Charles appeared at Nick’s side. “Did she give you the inquisition about your missing friends?” he asked. “I told her I didn’t know anything.”

Nick nodded. It seemed so obvious that Charles was pretending he was on their side.

“You guys had better be careful,” Charles said. “You may think that because of your family and everything, you’re above all this. But you’re just the same as the rest of us.”

Claire Chilton, a member of their class, joined the boys after getting up from a chaise longue. That evening, Claire was one of the few who hadn’t gotten her hair wet at all. She was dressed in a white robe and sandals, like a Park Avenue matron at a spa retreat. “Hello, boys. Are we discussing the absence of your three friends?”

Nick ignored her, though he was unsure of whether he should respond to Charles’s earlier comment.

Thankfully, Patch saved him. “You know, we’d really better get going. School night, you know.”

A few of the Society members were looking at Nick and Patch strangely. Hunter Jones and Emily van Piper had stopped their conversation by the bar, and Jeremy Hopkins was looking at them from across the pool. Nick wondered if he was being paranoid.

“Same old, same old,” Patch muttered to Nick. “You get into a club, and you still feel like you don’t belong. Let’s get out of here.”

On Tuesday afternoon, Lauren ran into Claire Chilton in the ladies’ lounge at the Ralph Lauren store on Madison Avenue. The flagship store was housed in a Gilded Age mansion, and even its restrooms were gorgeous, with brass fixtures from England and lovely prints on the walls. Lauren had been shopping the post-holiday sales, which so far, had worked as a distraction.

Running into Claire had just ruined that for her.

“Funny seeing you here, Lauren,” Claire said. Lauren had forgotten how underneath her veneer of snobbery, Claire was, at heart, extremely awkward. What was funny about seeing her here? Not much.