Second Thoughts (3 page)

All day I helped talkative girls and their families haul boxes up and down the stairs of Sanderson, directed the first-time students to the bookstore to pick up their start-of-year packages and supplies, and helped dry up tears. I was enormously thankful it wasn't raining or too hot. Even though it was almost a perfect late-summer day in New England, by the afternoon I was sweaty and exhausted.

When all their parents were finally gone, and all their belongings had been perfectly arranged, we gathered in Sanderson's first-floor lounge. I wanted a little time to catch my breath and try to remember all of their names before hitting the chaos dinner hours were sure to be. I decided to let the girls ask any burning questions they might have had while we were in the general quiet of our dorm. What they wanted to know surprised me, though it probably shouldn't have.

They stared at me blankly for a minute—maybe this
hadn't
been the great idea I thought it was—before a cute seventh grader was first to raise a tentative hand. I smiled and nodded.

“Is it true that Carter from the bookstore is your boyfriend?” she asked. She was a little wide-eyed but not exactly shy. Several of the other girls giggled and nodded their heads.

I laughed. “Well, I suppose this is the first lesson for the new girls: nothing is secret around here and word travels fast. Yes, it's true. Who told you about it?”

A different girl, another first-time student, chimed in.
“He
told me about it,” she said. “He asked where I was living, and when I told him, he said that you were his girlfriend. He's
really
cute.”

“Does he have a younger brother?” yet another girl asked, and they all laughed.

Before I could say anything, a voice from the back of the room caught me completely unprepared. It came from a new eighth grader who I'd almost immediately given the label of
future most popular girl in school
. She was slim and blond, already beautiful in a sophisticated way even at only thirteen or fourteen, and, between her parents and her luggage, struck me as possibly the wealthiest girl in Sanderson. I was pretty sure her name was Amanda, maybe Mandi for short.

“Is it true that his ex-girlfriend kissed him in front of everyone at the Winter Ball last year and then later she
died,
until you saved her anyway? Even after she kissed him?” She sounded not curious but…almost smug. The other new girls looked shocked and murmured among themselves at the scandal of it.

My mouth opened and closed once before I gathered my wits to respond. “Er. Yes, I guess all of that is true too, and I did save Jill. But I don't think Carter told you about it…”

She shook her head and smiled at me, a knowing smile that caused my stomach to twist and put me on guard, which I
should
have been on since I first met her, had I known. “No. My cousin Alexis did.”

Ah ha. That explained a lot. I could see some family resemblance now despite the different last names and hair colors. I wondered if Alexis had also told her little cousin that
she'd
kissed my boyfriend on the night of the Winter Ball too, and that I'd slapped her for it. Probably not. And obviously,
I
still had the guy, despite that Alexis was the hands-down most beautiful and popular girl on campus and had been making her play for Carter for years. Now I knew I'd have to keep my eye on Amanda just as much as her cousin.

“Well, Alexis would know about those things,” I said, and I applauded myself for being polite. “I'm sure she's told you all about Northbrook.” Amanda just smiled sweetly and leaned over to whisper to the girl next to her. I resisted the urge to sigh. I didn't want a girl rival in my own grade, let alone her Mini-Me to contend with in my
group of advisees. But I didn't have any choice about it either, so I just continued our get-to-know-each-other session with a smile of my own and an enthusiastic, “So, any more questions?”

We made it through the rest of the evening without any more awkwardness, but truth be told, I was a little distracted. Once Amanda had mentioned her, I couldn't stop thinking about Jillian Christensen. Jill.

Yes, it was true, she'd kissed Carter at the Winter Ball. She wasn't his ex-girlfriend though, actually more like his cousin. She was Daniel Astor's daughter and had been in love with Carter for years. Also, little -known fact about her: she'd tried, and nearly succeeded, to kill me. The only reason
she'd
died and I saved her was because I used my Hangman gift—the one that let me stop a person's heart with just a touch and a Thought—for the first and only time. It was that or die myself, and I really didn't want to die.

I thought about Jill a lot. That tended to happen when you killed someone. Or she tried to kill you. Despite knowing I'd do it again if I had to, I felt incredibly guilty about the whole thing. It was difficult carrying so many secrets around all the time, and this was the biggest one. My exterior bruises had healed in a few weeks, but the ones inside were the most difficult to deal with. Amanda's comment had picked the scab and made it bleed all over again.

I
WAS STILL
thinking about her in the morning as I made an early trip to meet with Headmaster Stewart. To get there, I followed the same route I'd once watched Jill take as she scurried away from my dorm, where she'd been spying on me. And Carter, having our first kiss. Sometimes I forgot that moment wasn't as private as it should have been.

Administration was one of my favorite buildings on campus, with its improbable lavender siding and mix of a modernly functional office
with a quirky collection of antiques. It was early, so the building was as quiet as a centuries-old Victorian ever is. I climbed lightly up the stairs to the headmaster's office, where I found her in the anteroom, sipping her customary tea and waiting for me. She looked the same as always—tall, imposing, unflinchingly alert and in command.

“Good morning, Lainey. Prompt as always.”

“I heard you have croissants if you get here early enough and I didn't want to miss them.”

She actually smiled before gesturing to the breakfast spread laid out on her sideboard. “Help yourself.” There was
always
the best food in Dr. Stewart's office, no matter the time of day.

My relationship with the headmaster was…different from other students. Not that we were friends or anything, but I liked her. I was pretty sure she liked me. We'd come to understand each other a lot better after what I called the
Jillian Incident.
Usually I wouldn't be so casual with her, but this was a casual meeting. A formality, really. Every student met privately with the headmaster at least once at the beginning of the year, for introduction or reacquaintance, but I'd seen her all the time over the summer.

Though just because it was casual didn't mean it wasn't important. After we'd settled into chairs in her office, she said, “I've reviewed your schedule, of course. It's appropriately rigorous, as I expected. How are you feeling about this year?” She watched me over the rim of her china cup.

Never lie to Headmaster Stewart is the first thing new students learn at Northbrook. If they're Sententia, they know it's because you, literally,
can't.
Her gift tells her whether she's hearing the truth, so I considered my answer carefully. “Excited, but nervous,” I finally said.

She nodded. “That's understandable. Most seniors feel the same way, you know.”

I did, but, “I'm not sure they're nervous about the same things. Or all the same things.”

“Elaborate.”

I took a bite of the famed croissants, swallowed. “Well, Jill, for one.”

Dr. Stewart lowered her tea and looked at me. “Surely you know Jillian won't be returning to Northbrook.”

“Oh.” I didn't know. Maybe I should have suspected, or Carter should have told me, if he even knew. None of us liked to talk about the
Jillian Incident,
least of all him. I wasn't sure if it made me feel better or worse that she wouldn't return, but at least I wouldn't have to see her on campus. Now I had a feeling I'd never see her again. “But her Legacy?”

“Elaine,” she said. Just the way she pronounced my name reminded me of her authority and my inexperience. Even though we got along, I was still a student, sometimes a foolish one. “Jillian is…not well. Regardless, she couldn't return to this school, where she attacked a student—
-you.
No matter how few people know or who her father is.”

I swallowed again. “Does Senator…is Senator Astor okay with that?”

“It was never a question.”

I wouldn't have long to wait before I was finally introduced to Senator Daniel Astor in person, since, besides my aunt, he'd be the guest of honor in a few weeks at the debut of her sculpture installation. He'd been very understanding after what had happened between his daughter and me, but I still couldn't shake my dread over meeting him. If I couldn't forgive myself, how possibly could he?

And then a small voice inside me, one I tried to ignore but couldn't, kept telling me I couldn't trust him. I hated that voice, but it wouldn't go away. Sometimes when I heard it, it sounded like Jill and
her crazy ramblings while she strangled me. Other times it sounded like me, asking why had everyone believed Jill and her father had no contact with each other when it wasn't true? I knew I'd caught him in a lie. I wondered if Dr. Stewart ever had.

I set down my breakfast plate, no longer hungry, and shifted in my chair. Outside, the rising sun played peek-a-boo through the trees, throwing patterns of shadow on the floor below the windows. “What's he like?” I asked.

Dr. Stewart thought for a few seconds. “He's our leader.”

“I know, but—” A slight narrowing of her eyes told me she hadn't been finished. I shut up and listened.

“He's patient. A fine virtue,” she reminded me with another pointed look. The headmaster tapped one finger lightly on her teacup while she chose her words, and I could see a worn spot in the glaze that told me she did it often. “I think you'll find the senator much like his nephew, minus the impetuousness that makes Cartwright so difficult sometimes.”

I smiled into my own cup, swirling the remains of my coffee. She knew Carter well. Without taking too much time to think about what I was going to say, I blurted out, “Does Senator—do the two of you still talk about me?”

“Of course. You know how important you are. For a number of reasons.”

“That's another thing I'm worried about.”

“The Perceptum, you mean,” she said and I nodded. I was glad I didn't have to explain for her to understand. I worried about the Perceptum and, specifically, its Council—the unofficial but very real and very serious governing body of all Sententia—often, almost as often as the man who headed it. For the other Sententia students, it was basically a given that they'd become members after graduation. But for me, it was different. As the last known Hangman, or
Carnifex
in the old
Latin, it was my talent they wanted most. “We don't choose our gifts, Lainey,” Dr. Stewart continued. “Only how to use them.”

“That's just it. What I'd have to do…” I trailed off, unsure exactly how to finish. It was a lot of things, most of which I was sure I couldn't stomach. The Perceptum Council protected the most important and pretty much only code Sententia followed: to be discreet with our abilities. Occasionally the Council determined a person, and their abilities, were too big a threat to do anything but “eliminate” them. Or in other words,
kill them.
That's where I'd come in. “Don't you think there's another way?”

Dr. Stewart shook her head. “No, I don't. Elimination is not a whim; it's a last resort, for the most egregious abusers and most dangerous. It's justice, and protection. If there's another way, we haven't found it yet.”

And that was the problem.

Before I could say anything more, ask another question for which there was no good answer, Dr. Stewart moved from her chair to stand before two of her wide windows. She glanced back at me, and I joined her, surprised by the view. I could see my dorm, the ponds, most of campus. Between two of the newer buildings, I could even see the gates, and all the way across the street to Penrose Books. The sun had risen enough now to light the tops of the buildings and trees a glowing orange.

“I'd like you to do something, Elaine,” Dr. Stewart said, “that I think will help you understand.”

“What is it?”

“I'd like you to join the Honor Board. Ms. Kim has already nominated you. If she hadn't, I'd have submitted your name myself.”

Wow. Honor Board
was
an honor, and a serious commitment. It reviewed and determined disciplinary actions for student infractions, things like cheating and other rule-breaking. It was also, now that I
compared them, pretty similar to the Perceptum Council. Just without the secrecy and the killing.

“But I'm only a second year!”

Dr. Stewart shrugged, actually
shrugged.
If I hadn't been so shocked by the Honor Board nomination, I wouldn't have believed my eyes. Maybe she'd been spending too much time with me. A hint of a smile before she spoke told me she'd done it on purpose. “That's all that's required. That, and a stellar academic and participation record, and a disposition the faculty deems worthy.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Of course I'll do it. I promise to do my best.”

“Bah.” Dr. Stewart waved one of her slender hands. “It's not about ‘your best.' You'll do admirably because it's what the position demands and you're suited to it. Honor Board is a challenge. You'll succeed.”

I nodded, unsure what else to say. We stood there, at the windows, and I wondered if the headmaster simply enjoyed the view. A few moments later, I realized she was waiting for something, when Carter appeared, nearly sprinting down the main hill. He slammed to a stop at the gates before checking his watch and pacing back and forth to cool down.