Variant (10 page)

No one except the school.

The voices weren’t getting any closer. I opened the door a little wider and peeked into the hallway.

I could see dark silhouettes at the junction.

“Little pig, little pig, let me come in.” I knew the voice. I’d heard it before. Was it Skiver? Oakland?

The shadows were coming out of the Society’s side and going down Havoc’s side.

“Open up, Walnut,” the voice said. It was Dylan. The Society was going after Havoc in the middle of the night. And the school had locked all the doors.

I wanted to get closer to see what was going on, but I didn’t dare.

The pounding sounded like an earthquake now, as Havoc tried to break out of their rooms.

“Wallace Jackson,” a new voice said. Isaiah. His words were loud and emotionless. “You have broken the rules, and we are here to collect you for detention. We have orders from the school.”

Someone screamed something, but I couldn’t make it out—it was probably Walnut behind his door.

“We are simply fulfilling our contract,” Isaiah continued. “You knew the rules, you knew the consequences, and you chose to disobey. This is not personal.”

“You bet it isn’t,” Dylan cackled gleefully. “I won’t enjoy it at all.”

Half a dozen kids were laughing, gloating about whatever would happen to Walnut.

There were more muffled shouts, and now I could barely even understand Isaiah over the pounding.

With fingers shaking from fear, I examined the door I was hiding behind. It was heavy, thick wood with steel deadbolts and large brass hinges. These things were like prison bars—they were made to trap people in their rooms. Walnut was on his own—his was probably the only one unlocked.

I wanted to run out there and stop them, to punch in Dylan’s laughing teeth and smash Isaiah’s head against the wall. We were all prisoners together—why couldn’t they realize that?

It was impossible to tell what was going on now. There was too much noise, too much yelling, too much pounding. I listened and watched, but couldn’t see anything.

And then there was a crash, and Walnut’s voice was loud and angry. He swore and screamed. Someone was with him—his roommate, whoever that was—and he was shrieking, too. But there were only the two of them, and I’d seen at least a dozen shadows in the hall. The Society had more than thirty members, and I bet all the guys were there now, helping to subdue Walnut.

Sweat was dripping down my face, despite the cold. There was nothing I could do to help. There were too many of them.

A moment later another shadow emerged from Havoc’s hall, and I ducked back into the empty room. I closed the door all but half an inch and watched the corridor.

The Society marched triumphantly past me, laughing in frenzied delight. Isaiah was at their head, quiet but proud. They dragged Walnut behind them, screaming. His hands and feet were bound with something, and he had no shirt on—just boxer shorts.

“What did I do?” he howled desperately. “What did I do?”

I wanted to jump out there. I could stop a few of them.

No. It wouldn’t be enough.

They passed out of my view, and I heard the buzz and click of the opening door. Light from outside spilled into the corridor as the mob left the dorm. Their laughter dropped for a moment. Walnut was groaning.

Isaiah said something I couldn’t make out. I opened my door again, just enough to peer out. Laura was waiting for them.

Isaiah said something else, but it was lost in a wail from his prisoner.

“She’s downstairs,” Laura said, her words breaking between Walnut’s cries.

The last of the Society guys let the heavy wooden door swing shut, enveloping me again in darkness.

I took a deep gulp of air and realized I’d been holding my breath. I could still hear pounding and defeated shouts from the Havoc hallway, but all of the Society was gone. Standing on unsteady, trembling legs, I stepped out into the hall.

Part of me wanted to follow them, to find out what detention really was and what would happen to Walnut. I wanted to know who “she” was. Was someone else being taken to detention as well?

But I didn’t follow. I’d spent all my time here being too cocky, too confident that nothing bad would really happen. A few fistfights, maybe, and a lot of yelling. But that all changed this afternoon at the graveyard, and Walnut’s detention was the final straw. The Society was hauling someone away, laughing and gloating while they did it.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel now. I wanted to escape more than ever, but it felt impossible. When I’d fallen out of the tree it hadn’t been a simple matter of talking Laura and Dylan out of punishment—I’d been lucky to have the V’s backing me up. I wouldn’t always be so lucky.

Just the thought of being a target of the Society made my heart race. I didn’t want to end up like Walnut.

As my panic receded, I remembered that he had to have a roommate. I jogged back down the empty corridor and into Havoc’s territory. Their doors were still closed and locked, but there was no pounding anymore. They must have known it was no use.

Walnut’s door was open, a little pale gray light from his window trickling out into the hallway.

I stepped inside.

There was a body on the floor by the wall, motionless.

I moved to him. He was one of the fatter kids, and his head was shaved with jagged tattoos drawn across his scalp. I didn’t know him at all, other than that he was in my class and I thought his nickname was Mash-something. Masher or Mashed Potato, or something like that.

He was breathing. I could hear it, raspy and shallow. His hands and feet were bound with plastic zip ties.

“You okay?” I said.

He flinched, one eye popping open. “Who’s that?” he snapped.

“Benson. Everyone else is locked in.”

“Why ain’t you?” he snapped.

“I wasn’t in my room when they all locked.”

“Well, then get me out of these damn handcuffs. There’s a knife on the desk.”

It only took me a minute to find the knife among the clutter. It was a short steak knife, almost certainly taken from the cafeteria kitchens. Maybe that was why Havoc wanted the food contracts. I knelt behind Mash and sawed quickly through the plastic.

“Why’d they take him?” I asked.

He swore and rubbed his wrists. “Why do you think they did? Because the school told ’em to. That’s the only reason.”

“You don’t know what rule he broke?”

Mash stood, and I saw that he was bleeding a little above his right eye. “Why the hell should I talk to you? You’re a V.” He walked past me into the hall, and I followed, watching as he went down to Oakland’s still-locked door. He was limping, but trying to look like he wasn’t.

“Hey,” he shouted.

Someone in the room replied, but I couldn’t make it out.

“They got him,” Mash said. “He’s gone, man.”

I didn’t know what to do. I felt weak and trapped and useless.

I walked back to my room. The door was locked, so I sat on the floor, my back against the wall. My head was spinning, and I felt like I was going to throw up. About an hour later, the Society guys returned, but they didn’t see me and I didn’t say anything.

It could have been me. If the V’s hadn’t come after me at the wall, I would have been the one hauled off to detention.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, but never went to sleep.

The doors remained locked for a long time. The screen on the corridor wall lit up shortly after dawn with the words
classes begin at ten o’clock
.

I was just starting to nod off when I heard the buzz and click of the doors opening. I scrambled to my feet as quickly as my sore body would let me, and opened my room door. Mason was right in front of me.

“Where’ve you been?” he asked, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

“Got locked out.” I walked past him to the closet and started getting dressed. I wanted to get out of this dorm.

“I thought they’d hauled you away or something. I’ve been up all night.”

“Not me,” I said. “Walnut.”

Mason left the room. I could hear a lot of voices in the hall as everyone was finally allowed out of their locked prison cells and tried to get the news. He returned as I was lacing my shoes.

“Were you out there when it happened?”

“Yeah.”

“They didn’t see you, did they?”

The screen in the hallway chimed before I could answer, and both of us ran toward the door. The other V guys were already gathering around Iceman when we got there.

Iceman was staring just off center, as though he was looking at something behind the camera. His jaw was set, and his eyes were cold and gray.

One of the V’s—a kid named Hector—grabbed my arm. “Mason said you were there.”

I nodded, watching the screen. “It was Walnut.”

“They took him to detention?”

Iceman looked into the camera. It felt like he was staring right into my eyes.

“Wallace Jackson,” he said, his voice calm and low, “and Maria Nobles were sent to detention during the night.”

A V gasped and another swore. From down the hall I could hear angry shouts and curses.

I whispered to Mason, “Who’s Maria?”

“Jelly,” he said.

Jelly.
I’d heard the nickname, but couldn’t picture her.

Iceman leaned forward slightly, and I almost thought his eyes darkened. “Let me make something perfectly clear. We do not make the decision to send students to detention. You decide that entirely on your own. Make better choices.”

“Turn him off,” Curtis said, shaking his head and walking away from the screen.

Iceman continued, “The rest of the daily punishments will be delivered in class. And Havoc—do not think that last night’s events have lessened your punishment for losing your match yesterday.”

I left, heading down the corridor to the exit. As I passed the Society row I could see that all of their doors were still closed. Would Havoc start something? The Society was bigger than Havoc—close to twice the size, but Havoc would be mad. And they had knives.

The school’s halls were empty and cold. The halls were always cold, it seemed. I think they only had the radiators on in the dorms and the classrooms.

Jogging down the stairs, taking two or three at a time, I got to Becky’s office in less than a minute. No one was there, so I pressed the small
ring for service
button mounted on the doorjamb. I waited.

Three minutes later Becky came hurrying down the hallway, her hair still wet and a towel hanging around her neck. Without her perfectly styled 1930s hairdo and her usual flawless makeup she actually looked normal. Then again, she was smiling cheerfully, despite everything that had gone on the night before. That was definitely the opposite of normal.

“Hey, Bense! What’s up?”

“I just wondered if I could talk to you for a minute,” I said.

“No problem at all.” She stepped in front of the door and the lock buzzed open. She turned the knob and opened it. “Come on in. What can I do for you?”

“What happened last night?”

She didn’t turn to look at me, but walked to her desk and straightened some of the loose papers.

“What do you mean?”

I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean. Wallace and Maria.”

“Why don’t you sit down?”

“I don’t want to sit down,” I said. “I didn’t sleep for a minute last night and I’m sore from paintball and I watched a guy get dragged on his back down to detention.”

Becky turned, but stopped herself before our eyes met. She was fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve, trying not to look at me.

“I don’t know any more about it than you do,” she said simply.

“Come on. You have the contract.”

“No,” Becky said, glancing up at me but only for an instant. She sat on the couch and crossed her legs. She was wearing flip-flops instead of the dress-code shoes and socks.

“I meant the Society has the contract,” I said, leaning against the cabinets on the opposite wall.

“I don’t do security,” she said, finally looking into my eyes. “I promise. I have a deal with Isaiah. I do new-student orientations, and I don’t do the other stuff.”

“Dylan does both. He’s medical and security.”

She looked back down at her cuff. “I’m not Dylan.”

I rubbed my eyes. I was exhausted, and I didn’t have the energy to argue with Becky.

“But the others talk to you, right?” I asked. “You must have heard what was going on.”

“We got the message on our computers in the evening,” she said. Her gaze had moved from her cuff and now she was picking invisible lint off her skirt. “It told us what time to take the two students downstairs.”

“What rule did they break?”

“It didn’t say.”

“What?” I stood up from the wall, agitated, but the room was small and there was nowhere else for me to go, so I just stood there, arms folded. “It just said to haul them to detention, no questions asked?”

“That’s how it works.”

I thought of the howling glee that the Society guys had when they’d dragged Walnut down the hall. They didn’t even know what rule he’d broken. It wasn’t hard to guess, of course. There were only so many rules that got someone sent to detention. But still, for the Society to relish the job that much while being completely unaware of what rules they were enforcing? It made me sick.

I finally sat on the couch, slumped down next to her. “That’s ridiculous.”

“I don’t like having that contract.”

We sat in silence for several seconds. Becky had stopped pretending to pick lint, and I just stared at the wall.

“I don’t suppose you have any ibuprofen here,” I said. “I don’t want to go to the infirmary.”

She gave a look that was half smile and half frown. “No. You’d have to go see Anna or Dylan.”

My hand went to the bruise on my side. “They actually pretend like Dylan is supposed to heal people?”

Becky looked uncomfortable. “If you want, I can see when Anna’s on call instead of Dylan. You could go then.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”

She reached over to the desk and picked up her minicomputer.

“I have to get out of here,” I said, staring forward. “This place is crazy. It’s a crazy school full of crazy people.”