The Unseemly Education of Anne Merchant (23 page)

“Well, tell me,” he continues, “how would you feel if you lived day after day on this island? With the bullshit rules, signing forms in blood, a fucking mausoleum for a graduation hall, expulsions around the corner for everyone—just as you start to care about them.”

“Care! You?”

“Yes, care! I’m capable of it, you know. Let me prove it.”

That gets my attention. That’s interesting.

“How will you prove it?” I ask tentatively, hoping against hope that he’ll pull me close to him again.

“With advice, which is all I can give you,” he storms, stuffing his hands in his pockets like he’s trying to control himself. “Do what your Guardian says. Work for the Big V. And, for God’s sake, stay the hell away from Molly. You
will
get caught.”

I. Am. A. Fool.

“Thanks, Ben,” I begin soberly. “But I already have a Guardian giving me all the advice I can take. Keep yours. I don’t need it.”

Clenching my teeth, I whirl and race down the hill, refusing to yell at Ben or let him yell at me for another second. I hear him call my name, but I ignore it. In the shadows, I trip on one of my abandoned heels, which scrapes the bottom of my foot. Wincing with pain, I stumble, grab the shoe, and glance back at the mountaintop. But I can’t see him.

“Of course he’s gone,” I sniffle.

Of course he doesn’t care to follow me or make sure I’m alright. Patting around in the darkness for Molly’s other shoe, I feel tears heat my face; they blur my vision, and I lose patience looking for the shoe. It’s gone. So I hike up my dress and race down the remainder of the hill. The bottom of my foot is bleeding as I stumble onto campus, begrudging the music that I’d danced to an hour ago, begrudging everything that has been taken from me tonight.

Sunday morning. There’s a sparkly Jimmy Choo on the landing outside my bedroom door when I head downstairs. I’ve got to meet Molly in half an hour down at the marina, and I need to get a coffee. Last night kicked the crap out of me.

I pick up the shoe. Read Molly’s name inside.

Freeze in place.

As it occurs to me that someone has found the missing shoe and returned it to
me
when
Molly’s
name is written inside, as the implications of this returned shoe dawn on me, I hear a noise downstairs.

Someone is weeping.

I creep down the stairs, avoiding the step that creaks, and pass Teddy, who’s glowering at me in the living room.

Gigi is sobbing at the kitchen table. Her crying stops short, and she shifts in her chair to face me as I enter the room. Mascara streaks her face. In her hand, she swirls a glass of whiskey around some ice cubes.

“It’s done,” she says. “The last child in the village is dead.”

Her words rush at me with so much force, it feels like they’re pulling the walls in around us. Stunned, I wait for my brain to make sense of what she’s saying. I wait to be crushed.

“Villicus left her no choice,” she continues. “It was Cania or…death.”

My throat doesn’t work. My brain can’t catch up. It’s too much. I must be sleeping. Except I’m not. This is happening.

Molly.

“What do you…?” My voice falters. Cania or
death
?

All at once, in an alarming montage, I see Molly standing outside last night, with that white box in her hands. Poking her head in the door at the Zins’ on Friday, smiling her metallic smile. Waving to me as she biked away.

Gigi sputters, “Molly’s dead now. What are we supposed to do? What have we become?”

I see idiot me, carelessly leaving Molly’s shoe on the hillside. I see Teddy, standing at his bedroom window last night, watching Molly say we should meet for a gossip session this morning. Turning, I walk into the living room, walk up to Teddy, and deliberately bring my hand across his face with all my might—or at least I try to. He catches my wrist midair and stares me down.

“
You
did this to Molly,” he states bitterly. “You both knew the rules. But you decided to break them.”

Yes, I’m to blame for breaking a rule. But it was a ridiculous rule. And it was Teddy who told Villicus what he saw; I wouldn’t be surprised if Dr. Zin was behind this, too. Behind the death of an innocent kid who broke a rule no one can even explain. The punishment is so preposterous, so out of whack with the crime that I
know
now that there’s more to this island and the people on it than I’ve been told. I know, glaring into Teddy’s hate-filled sallow face, that I’m in a high-priced insane asylum. And if I believed in it, I might even be convinced I’m in Hell itself.

thirteen

LOOKING CLOSER

THERE’S NO ANSWER AT THE ZINS’, NO MATTER HOW
many times I ring the bell, pound on the door, or shout over the driving rain for them to let me in. It’s hailing now as I run from their house toward the marina, knowing already Molly won’t be there. I run at breakneck speed up to campus, to the middle of the quad, where I slump against a tree and try to catch my breath, to arrange my thoughts. But I can’t. My heart’s beating so fast, it’s impossible to do anything but run even more.

The hail won’t let me stay outside, though, so I’m forced to look for refuge.

Every door is locked on campus except the dorms, the cafeteria, and the library. Swinging the door open, I burst into the bottomless quiet of the library, wheezing, and hear a resounding
shhh
that sends me looking for a stairwell to escape into. What am I doing here? I need to know if Ben’s dad was involved, if he told Villicus that Molly and I were in his house. As much as I wish I could forget, I haven’t forgotten the gunshots I heard last week. I can’t forget Dr. Zin was there.

But I need more answers than just that. I yank open the heavy door to the stairwell and, rushing in, stop to process a thought. If Ben knows everything he says he knows about Wormwood Island and Cania, then he needs to tell me what exactly is so horrendous about this place—aside from the obvious—that Molly would rather she be dead than attend this school. “Molly’s dead,” I finally let myself say, even if only in a whisper. I must be in shock. Because I don’t cry. I owe it to Molly to keep it together until I get some answers. If at some point I feel like crying, then I’ll have to shove it down deep and let it out later. I collapse against the cold concrete-block wall and stare across the landing. The hood of my yellow rain slicker cushions the blow as my head bobs against the wall.

Molly’s dead. And I’m expelled.

The expulsion is nothing. I don’t care—I couldn’t possibly care about that right now. It’s all about Molly. A girl I knew for less than a week but who, in that time, was more a friend to me than anyone I’ve known in years. And how did I repay her friendship? Shuddering, I close my eyes and relive that moment in the darkness last night, as I halfheartedly patted around for her shoe and then ran away empty-handed. Knowing her name was inside it. It’s enough to send me flying up the stairs, as if I could run away from what I’ve done, from my responsibility in Molly’s death. Up, up, I run, until I’m on the fourth floor, the top floor, where the staircase ends at a single steel door. I throw it open and burst into the room.

The first thing I notice is the cold.

The second is that I’m not alone.

“Anne? Is that you?”

The only person on the entire floor, Ben is sitting on a hard wooden chair with his head in his hands. Over his head is a sign shaped like an arrow that reads “Religion” and points west. A stack of books sits on the study carousel beside him, a reading lamp shining down over him, glowing yellow, bringing out the shadows that ring his eyes. He looks as exhausted as I feel.

“Have you heard what happened to Molly?” My voice is surprisingly clear and strong. He nods. “I need to know if your dad was involved.”

“Shh,” he says, pressing his finger to his lips. “Inside voices in the library.”

“Was he? I need a straight answer.”

“My dad?” He shakes his head, but he doesn’t look surprised. “Not this time.”

“But he’s done crap like that before?”

Reluctantly, he nods. “He’s been involved in expulsions and similarly ugly situations. It’s his job. There are rules he has to play by.”

“Did he tell Villicus that Molly and I broke into your house? That we’re friends?”
Were
friends.

Again, he shakes his head. “My dad’s had a change of heart recently. He doesn’t tell Villicus anything he doesn’t have to.”

So it was that bastard Teddy. If it wasn’t for me and my stupid Guardian, none of this would have happened to Molly.

“Why don’t you sit?” Ben offers. “You can’t stay long because I’m expecting Lizzy, but—”

“I’m fine standing,” I huff angrily. But a moment passes, and I make my way over to him, taking the chair on the opposite side of the small table. “Who’s Lizzy?”

“An old friend. That’s just her nickname.”

The books on the tabletop are old and picked over. Some have tattered corners and age spots, faded spines, and tea-spattered edges. Titles like
Bedeviled Constructs of the Reformation
and
Diabology: Better the Devil You Know.

“Why are you reading these?” I ask.

“Is that what you really want to ask me?”

“I want to know why Molly died.”

“Because she was killed.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s my only answer. I don’t
know,
Anne.” His eyes meet mine. “What’s this change in you? You’re finally ready to start asking questions? And you start with the hardest one.”

“Why weren’t there any other kids in the village but Molly?”

“There used to be,” he says. “But the villagers slowly started moving away, back in the fifties, I guess. The ones who’ve stayed rarely have children. The elderly have stayed, too, for Mr. Watso. I guess they’ll go now.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Is this an interrogation?” he asks, but I respond with a blank glare. “They want off this island. Villicus needs them, though, and he pays them so well, his generosity would be a hard habit for them to break.”

“Why does he need them?”

“Why not?”

“Is it because this is an asylum?”

He frowns at me. A chill courses through the room though no windows are open.

“I know you want some answers, but I really don’t think you could handle them.” Sighing, he adds, “And I wouldn’t risk it.”

“You have no idea what I can handle!”

“I know what
I
can handle. The repercussions would be…unbearable. I’m sorry, it’s out of my hands.”

“Fantastic, Ben. Thanks for the help.”

“Hey, you had a chance to find the truth. You were in my library on my dad’s computer.”

“I saw photos of your family! That’s nothing.”

Flinching, he looks away. “Maybe not to you, but it’s something to me. Photos of my last Christmas with my mom and sister. That’s everything to me.”

I finally nod. “Okay.” I fidget. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I
am
sorry, though,” I say, and my voice cracks to prove it. With everything that’s just happened, I’m starting to feel seriously emotional. And the mere mention of Christmas with family only reminds me of how much I miss my mom. Why does everybody have to die? My throat tightens. “I’m so lost.”

“You’re just not in the know right now,” he says gently. “The only consolation is, I think, that you’re a fighter.” His hand on his knee is close to me, and I watch it shift as if he’s about to reach for me but won’t let himself. “Jeannie was a fighter, too.”

“Why doesn’t she go to Cania?”

Shifting away from me, he says, “She passed away. She and my mom did. In a car accident.”

“Oh, my gosh. They died?”

“We were in California at a black-tie event for some celebrity client of my dad’s. He had a few too many, and then he drove us back to the hotel. Or tried to.” He rubs his hands over his face. “You know what that’s like, of course, to lose part of your family.” I’d almost forgotten that he read my file. “I once thought that that was what drew me to you, that you’d lost your mom, too. But I know now that it’s more than that.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I have to be cryptic, A.M.” Smiling softly, he adds, “Do you really think I come off like Gollum?”