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tension. Then the panel fell from the lid, and with it fell a folded piece of old, waxy-looking paper.
    Ang gasped, and my pulse raced.
    “You found a secret compartment!”
    “Yeah,” I breathed. I reached for the piece of paper and carefully smoothed the creases so I could lay it flat. I scanned the page. “What the…?”
    “Tapestry Lake Convergence” looped across the top in old fashioned-looking script. And under that were three lists of names.
    Goosebumps crawled down my arms. I hardly knew where to begin. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the piece of paper.
    “Corinne?” When I didn’t respond, Ang came around to my side and peered down at the sheet. “Oh my God, that’s your name. And Mason’s! And mine ! What is this thing? What the heck is a ‘pyramidal union’?”
    Tapestry Lake Convergence
    Pyramidal union formed 1915
    P: Ruth Jensen
    S: Daniel Smith
    G: Catherine Abel
    G: Louise Sinclair
    Pyramidal union formed 1951
    P: Doris Conner
    S: Harold Sykes
    G: Dorothy Conner
    G: Evelyn Wellington
    Pyramidal union formed
    P: Harriet Jensen Corinne Finley
    S: Mason Flint
    G: Angeline Belskaia
    G:
    “That’s Grandma Doris and Aunt Dorothy in the nineteen fifty-three list,” I said. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “And Ruth Jensen was my great-grandmother.”
    “Do you have any idea what any of this means?”
    I shook my head and frowned at the list.
    Had Grandma Doris ever mentioned a convergence or a pyramidal union? It sounded like something important. I wracked my brain. Pyramidal union might be some kind of club, or … I didn’t even know what. This piece of paper said I was part of it. Me, Ang, Mason, and possibly someone else whose name would go under Angeline’s.
    Wait. One name had two heavy lines through it. “Oh my God, Ang. You see that? In front of my name. Harriet .”
    Ang green eyes were huge and round. “I am so freaked out right now, I can’t even tell you,” she said. She bit at her pinkie nail.
    My pulse thudded in my head. I had a horrible feeling this meant my paranoia about Harriet wasn’t unfounded.
    “Jensen was my great-grandmother’s maiden name, so when she joined this—whatever—it was before she was married. Same with Grandma Doris and Aunt Dorothy. I don’t know if that means anything.”
    “I don’t think they joined anything,” Ang said. She squinted and drew back a little, putting some distance between herself and the piece of paper.
    “What do you mean?”
    She gestured at the list in my hand. “You and Mason and I didn’t join any pyramidal union or whatever, did we? But there we are. Whoever wrote this thinks we’re part of one. For all we know, the other people on that thing didn’t know, either. Or maybe they didn’t have a choice.”
    “This is so freaking weird.”
    “Yeah.” Ang folded her arms around herself in a sort of hug. “What do you think we should do?”
    “Maybe see if we can find anything online? We could at least try to figure out what a pyramidal union is.”
    She nodded, and I handed her the piece of paper before going to get my laptop. Having something to do made me feel a little more calm. Not much, but a little.

|| 8 ||
     
    WE SPENT THE REST of the afternoon trying to figure out what “convergence,” “pyramidal union,” and the letters “P S G G” meant. One website came up when we searched “pyramidal union” that seemed promising because it had a picture of a box that was sort of similar to my pyxis . It also had an animation with blobs of colors that slowly swirled and melded, kind of like wax in a lava lamp. But we couldn’t get past the home page because it needed a password or some other type of virtual secret handshake. Aside from some generic definitions of the other terms, we didn’t find much, and nothing that explained the four letters.
    After a few hours, we gave up.
    Ang sighed and flopped across my bed. We’d moved from the TV room to my room in case anyone came downstairs. We