The Last Academy Read Online Free PDF Page B

bed creaked. I opened my eyes.
    A boy sat, his back to me, on the edge of the bed. Another boy sat on Tamara’s bed. Not psycho student stranglers, I realized after a second. Only boys. Probably from our freshman class, judging from their lack of muscles and the nervous sweat hanging about them. Maybe runt sophomores.
    Tamara lay on her side, her brown eyes murky in the minimal light. She and the boy on her bed whispered together. I couldn’t hear too much, just the hushed breathing noises they made talking. I shut my eyes.
    OK. So there were strange boys in my room. They could have been murderers, yes, but the bigger issue was that if Miss Andersen found out about them, we’d all be expelled. I’d read the rule book. Being in the room of someone of the opposite sex was a huge, steaming pile of violation. I didn’t think that kind of thing had a point rating, it was so serious.
    I considered sitting up and telling those guys to get lost, but I figured all it would win me was my roommate hating me. Plus, it wasn’t even guaranteed to make the boys leave. What if they laughed at me and stayed? Shortof shoving them out the door, I couldn’t make them go without calling Miss Andersen, and there was no way I was going to get everyone, myself included, in that kind of trouble.
    I made like I was rolling over in my sleep and glared at the wall for a long time, furious. It might seem like it would be hard to fall asleep with those guys there, but after a while, I did. When you don’t want to be somewhere and there is no way to get your body out of the situation, your brain sometimes packs a bag and thumbs a ride anywhere it can go.

I woke up the next morning with a bunch of angry things to say to Tamara. So naturally, she was already gone. I wore my funk of irritation like a housecoat and skulked up to the dining hall. After grabbing an apple from the breakfast spread, I went over to the hallway and studied the student-and-faculty photo montage. Something else had solidified in my mind overnight: where I’d seen Brynn’s roommate before. She’d been on the plane, talking to Barnaby Charon.
    At first I couldn’t find her picture anywhere. I looked and looked, but the pictures were in a hodgepodge.
    It was probably the stress, I told myself. I glanced at my watch. It was already 7:20 in the morning. I still had to get back down to my room, make my bed for inspection, brush my teeth, yell at Tamara for having guys in our room last night, and arrive on time for my first class. It was goingto be a busy morning. I ate my apple and took my time, moving over to where Brynn had stood the night before. I closed my eyes and stuck my finger out, imagining I was poking a picture.
    I opened my eyes. Not a photo under my fingertip. A name where a picture had been taken down and a thumbtack removed. DREA SHAPIRO, FRESHMAN, NEW HAMPSHIRE . I looked at that spot for a few minutes. You know. Considering.
     
    When classes let out at three o’clock, every student had to sign up for an athletic activity. Brynn and Nora went to the real sports tryouts, competing for spots on the varsity or junior varsity teams. Then there were students like Jessie and me. I knew right away we were headed for intramural athletics: open gym, weight lifting, aerobics, free swim.
    The nice thing about aerobics was that it let out at the end of the hour. That meant a little extra time for other things. For instance, Mr. Cooper, the drama teacher, had asked for volunteers to paint sets for the winter play. I’d signed up right away. Mr. Cooper was this big, tall, balding guy with a soft face and wire-rimmed glasses. He reminded me of a giant teddy bear. I like helping out, and the way Mr. Cooperhad lost his briefcase in our first drama class that morning, the guy seemed like he could use all the help he could get.
    But since set painting hadn’t started up yet, I was free as a bird when aerobics ended that day. Jessie headed back to the dorms while I swung by the