Secret Society Girl by Diana Peterfreund Page A

me for what seemed like ages, but it was difficult to tell how much of the jostling was actual forward motion and how much was cleverly designed to seem that way. At last they set me down. I thought I could hear splashing sounds all around. Another bathroom?

    I could hear my captor‘s voice very clearly now, as if he‘d leaned down to whisper directly into the coffin lid. ―You are in our power now, and we hold your life in our hands. This is the pool room, Neophyte. If we wanted, we could drop you in. Do you think you‘d escape from the coffin before you drowned?‖

    No. Something scraped against the bottom of the box—or perhaps it was the coffin itself, being shoved along the ground. I felt myself sliding forward, as if tipping, and then something wet splashed against my legs. Water, flowing through the seams in the coffin. Oh my God, they were doing it! They were submerging me in the pool!

    ―Stop! Stop, please!‖ I shrieked, kicking for all I was worth. The wooden walls of the coffin remained uncompromised.

    Oh, God, I can"t swim. I can"t swim! Let me out, please, don"t let me drown!

    Pure terror washed through my body as I practically broke my hands pounding on the lid. I heard a rush of water above my head, and it started seeping in at the top of the coffin, wetting my hair and my shirt. Any second now, they‘d let go and I‘d sink to the bottom. Helpless. How long would it take? The coffin‘s seams didn‘t appear very tight. ―Please, please, take me out! I beg of you!‖

    My cry broke on the last words into a sob. At last, I felt them lift me up and the hysteria ebbed.

    ―Well, that was quick,‖ he commented dryly.

    Hot tears ran down my face and mixed with the cold pool water. Now that the danger had passed, I felt nothing but anger at myself for having let them see me squirm. I vowed I‘d have no reaction for the rest of this crazy ride, no matter what they did to me.

    ―Do you remember what you said to us at your interview, Neophyte?‖ my head captor asked.
    He was clearly the master of ceremonies here—everyone else was playing the part of muscle.
    My captors swung the coffin in earnest now, and the water inside sloshed around, drenching the legs of my metal-free pants.

    ―Speak!‖

    Not a chance. But when I didn‘t they began shaking me up and down. ―Okay, okay,‖ I capitulated. ―Which part of my interview?‖

    ―Your parting shot.‖

    I struggled to recall. I remembered giving them the finger, but that was about it. ―Not really,‖ I said haltingly, wondering what else they could possibly have planned for me. Whatever it was, there was no way it could beat the pool.

    ―Then let us jog your memory,‖ he said as his cohorts jogged my container. ―Knights!‖

    And then, in unison: ― I don"t do drugs, I"ve never been arrested, and from what I hear, I"m not too shabby in bed. Not that any of you people will ever have the opportunity to discover that firsthand!” The cacophony of voices had a garish, military quality to it, and if possible, I was even more humiliated by their recitation than I had been when I‘d first opened my big mouth in that interview room.

    ―Have you ever heard the story of the Diggers‘ Whore, Neophyte?‖

    I shuddered at the way he addressed me.

    ―I take it by your silence that‘s a ‗no.‘ ‖

    Ugh, I could almost hear the bastard‘s smug smile. ―Either that or you‘ve knocked me cold in here.‖

    ―She doesn‘t learn her lesson, does she, boys?‖ Someone, I assumed it was my Sith M.C., thumped loudly on the lid of the coffin. ―Do we have to dump you in the water again?‖

    Oh, boy, was this jerk going to lose some parts of his anatomy when I finally got out of here.

    ―As I was saying, the Diggers‘ Whore is a very special woman, given the sacred trust to Initiate the Knights of our Order into the Mysteries of Connubial Bliss.‖

    ―Lovely,‖ I said, with extraordinarily minimal sarcasm. But this is what I thought: