speaking.
Pen watches the clouds blurring past us, and in the window’s reflection I think she’s watching the patrolman standing at the head of our car. As promised, there was no lack of them this morning, holding open doors for us, nodding, saying, “Good morning” as though to reassure us that our little world is safe. They cast suspicious glances at the men in particular. I don’t know that I like this. The vigilance of the patrolmen is supposed to make me feel safe, but all it does is further the knowledge that something has changed.
There are patrolmen watching us step off the train; Pen stays close to me, huffing indignantly as she tugs her skirt pleats down past her knees. “Are all these eyes really necessary?” she says.
“They’re only looking out for our safety,” Basil says. “Try to ignore them.”
She looks over her shoulder after the patrolman who opened the academy door for us; she crinkles her nose but says nothing more.
Normally we’d have at least ten minutes of free time in the lobby, but today we’re supposed to report to our first classes immediately. “I’ll see you at lunch,” I say to Basil.
He reaches for my hand, hesitates, and drops his arm back at his side. “See you at lunch.” I watch him disappear into a group of his morning classmates.
“What was that about?” Pen says after we’ve rounded the corner.
“I think he’s going to kiss me soon,” I say, suddenly feeling very awkward about what to do with my own hands. “It seemed like he wanted to yesterday when he walked me home.”
“At last, my little girl is growing up,” she says.
“I’m three days older than you,” I say.
She bumps me with her shoulder. “But I know all the things you’re too sweet to know.”
Her laugh gives me more reassurance than all the patrolmen on Internment combined.
The cafeteria at lunchtime, in contrast to the rest of the academy, is alive with chatter.
“I’ve found a few things out about Daphne Leander,” Pen says, setting her tray on the table across from Basil and me. She rifles through her satchel and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “These were tacked up in the ladies’ locker room. They’re all handwritten but they say the same thing. Look at the date—it’s from last month. It was her essay on the history of the gods. But we had to read our essays aloud, and this isn’t the one she read. If I had to guess, it was a draft she didn’t intend to have anyone find.”
As I’m unfolding the page, Basil says, “Should we be invading her privacy like this?”
“They’re all over the academy,” Pen says. “Someone wanted them seen, to be sure.”
I smooth the page flat against the table and begin to read.
Intangible Gods, Daphne Leander, Year Ten.
“You look lovely today,” Thomas says, seating himself beside Pen.
She glares at her lunch tray and mumbles a dispirited, “Thank you.”
I fold the paper before Thomas notices it, and tuck it into my skirt pocket.
“How are you handling the news?” Thomas asks, glancing between Pen and me. “It must be pretty frightening for you girls.”
“Everyone’s frightened,” Pen says. “Not just the girls.”
“Of course,” Thomas says. “I only meant that you must feel more vulnerable. The fairer sex and all that.”
“How do you know it had anything to do with being a girl?” Pen says. “The patrolmen aren’t watching
just
the girls. They’re watching all of us. We don’t know why this murderer victimized a girl or if that even mattered, and we don’t know who could be next.”
“I didn’t mean to offend,” he says, looking between Pen and me. “Forgive me.”
I concentrate on my tray. It isn’t hard to understand why Pen is always avoiding her betrothed, even if to an outsider they’d seem like the perfect pair; he’s every bit as attractive as she is, in that pristine, bright-eyed way. And he has her same spiritedness, but they are far from compatible most days. She has
Pen watches the clouds blurring past us, and in the window’s reflection I think she’s watching the patrolman standing at the head of our car. As promised, there was no lack of them this morning, holding open doors for us, nodding, saying, “Good morning” as though to reassure us that our little world is safe. They cast suspicious glances at the men in particular. I don’t know that I like this. The vigilance of the patrolmen is supposed to make me feel safe, but all it does is further the knowledge that something has changed.
There are patrolmen watching us step off the train; Pen stays close to me, huffing indignantly as she tugs her skirt pleats down past her knees. “Are all these eyes really necessary?” she says.
“They’re only looking out for our safety,” Basil says. “Try to ignore them.”
She looks over her shoulder after the patrolman who opened the academy door for us; she crinkles her nose but says nothing more.
Normally we’d have at least ten minutes of free time in the lobby, but today we’re supposed to report to our first classes immediately. “I’ll see you at lunch,” I say to Basil.
He reaches for my hand, hesitates, and drops his arm back at his side. “See you at lunch.” I watch him disappear into a group of his morning classmates.
“What was that about?” Pen says after we’ve rounded the corner.
“I think he’s going to kiss me soon,” I say, suddenly feeling very awkward about what to do with my own hands. “It seemed like he wanted to yesterday when he walked me home.”
“At last, my little girl is growing up,” she says.
“I’m three days older than you,” I say.
She bumps me with her shoulder. “But I know all the things you’re too sweet to know.”
Her laugh gives me more reassurance than all the patrolmen on Internment combined.
The cafeteria at lunchtime, in contrast to the rest of the academy, is alive with chatter.
“I’ve found a few things out about Daphne Leander,” Pen says, setting her tray on the table across from Basil and me. She rifles through her satchel and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “These were tacked up in the ladies’ locker room. They’re all handwritten but they say the same thing. Look at the date—it’s from last month. It was her essay on the history of the gods. But we had to read our essays aloud, and this isn’t the one she read. If I had to guess, it was a draft she didn’t intend to have anyone find.”
As I’m unfolding the page, Basil says, “Should we be invading her privacy like this?”
“They’re all over the academy,” Pen says. “Someone wanted them seen, to be sure.”
I smooth the page flat against the table and begin to read.
Intangible Gods, Daphne Leander, Year Ten.
“You look lovely today,” Thomas says, seating himself beside Pen.
She glares at her lunch tray and mumbles a dispirited, “Thank you.”
I fold the paper before Thomas notices it, and tuck it into my skirt pocket.
“How are you handling the news?” Thomas asks, glancing between Pen and me. “It must be pretty frightening for you girls.”
“Everyone’s frightened,” Pen says. “Not just the girls.”
“Of course,” Thomas says. “I only meant that you must feel more vulnerable. The fairer sex and all that.”
“How do you know it had anything to do with being a girl?” Pen says. “The patrolmen aren’t watching
just
the girls. They’re watching all of us. We don’t know why this murderer victimized a girl or if that even mattered, and we don’t know who could be next.”
“I didn’t mean to offend,” he says, looking between Pen and me. “Forgive me.”
I concentrate on my tray. It isn’t hard to understand why Pen is always avoiding her betrothed, even if to an outsider they’d seem like the perfect pair; he’s every bit as attractive as she is, in that pristine, bright-eyed way. And he has her same spiritedness, but they are far from compatible most days. She has
Similar Books
city of dragons 02 - fire storm
val st crowe
Drawn Deeper
Brenda Rothert
The Croning
Laird Barron
The Santa Society
Kristine McCord
Goat Pie
Alan MacDonald
On Chesil Beach
Ian McEwan
Dying Fall
Sally Spencer
The Trial
James Patterson
Love With A Younger Man
Candy Caine
