Mason’s voice was serious. “Becky had a guy. She wasn’t always screwed up. She was a V. Helped start the V’s, actually.”
“You’re kidding.” I rolled onto my side to look at him.
He pulled his red sweater on, and his eyes met mine. “Do what you want, man. But if you’re going to get killed next week crossing the wall, stay away from Jane. She doesn’t deserve that.”
Chapter Twelve
At seven o’clock we filed into class. The Society and Havoc kids were all chattering in whispered voices and pointing over at Lily’s empty seat. Some of them seemed concerned, others self-righteous, giving one another I- told-you-so looks. I tried to ignore them and looked straight ahead.
Everything about this school was wrong. Lily was missing, maybe dead, and yet here we were, about to have a lesson on field surveying, and later we’d go to a dance. I needed to get out. I needed to run, get help, tell someone about the school, and get the police.
And yet, in some ways, escape felt wrong, too. Yes, I needed to do all of those things, but should I do it on my own? Could I really leave the others behind and just hope they’d be okay and that I’d be able to get them out later? Could I do that to Jane?
She was sitting in front of me now, hunched forward, her arms propped on the desk. Her hair really was beautiful. The rich red wasn’t quite copper, but more the shade of autumn leaves. It made her red uniform sweater look garish and cheap.
Maybe Mason was right. I needed to concentrate on getting out of here, not on girls. Jane should be the least of my worries.
Laura came in the room quietly and fiddled with her computer for a few minutes.
“Welcome to class,” she said. Her expression was serious, but there was a kind of brightness to her eyes, like she was hiding a secret. “Before we begin, I have an announcement that was delivered with today’s lesson plans.” She tapped her keypad and the class quieted instantly.
Laura’s eyes didn’t move from the screen as she read. “We regret to inform you that Lillian Paterson was killed last night, hit by a car on the highway.”
“Murdering bastards,” Mason whispered. Jane dropped her head, burrowing her face into her arms. My muscles tensed, and my hands clenched under my desk.
Laura continued, “Please remember that crossing the wall is cause for detention.”
I raised my hand. “I have a question.”
She looked surprised and unsure of what to do, so I just went ahead.
“We all drove in here, and I only saw one road within fifty miles, and the only place it goes is here. So how did she get hit by a car?”
Laura frowned. “We don’t know the circumstances, but—”
I interrupted, anger swelling in my chest. “There are only two possibilities: She was hit by a car on our road —but that makes no sense because no car came here—or she walked all the way to the main highway in one night. Which is it?”
Other kids were chattering around me, but I stared at Laura and waited for her to answer.
“We don’t know the circumstances,” she repeated.
“Yes, we do,” I snapped. “The note says she was hit by a car. So, Laura, explain it to me. Take a guess.”
She seethed, her lips tight together. “Maybe there are other roads in the forest.”
Without even realizing what I was doing, I stood up and began shouting, “You know what pisses me off the most about this? If you’d caught her before she got over the wall, Laura, she’d be just as dead as she is now.”
Before I could finish the room erupted in chaos, some people shouting at Laura, but most of them yelling back at me. The Havoc kids were on my side, barking angrily at the Society. I glanced up at the security camera, actually hoping someone was watching this time.
“Take your seat, Benson,” Laura was yelling, trying to be heard over the crowd.
I touched Jane’s back and coaxed her up. As she stood, I could see her wet, red eyes.
“Take your seats,” Laura shouted.
“No.” I took Jane by the hand and led her out into the hall. As soon as we got outside she stopped and wrapped her arms around me, sobbing and shuddering.
The classroom door fell closed, but I could still hear the muffled shouting on the other side. No one came after us.
I held Jane, my left hand on her back and my right cradling her head while she cried into my chest.
I wanted to tell her that everything would be fine, that I’d get us both out of Maxfield Academy, but I couldn’t bring myself to say it. And she wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. It wasn’t true.
No one could make it out of this place alive.
She was trying to calm herself, taking deep breaths between sobs. “I am so sick of this, Benson.”
“I know.”
“Two and a half years.”
“I know.”
Chapter Thirteen
We stood in the hallway for a long time. The noises from the class died down, and I listened to Jane breathe and felt her body slowly grow calm. I wasn’t worried about punishment for missing class. We’d lose points, but right now I didn’t care about that at all.
Finally, Jane looked up at me. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her mascara streaked down her cheeks. “Come on.”
She took my hand and we walked in silence, heading down the large staircase to the first floor. The corridor was quiet, all the students still in their classrooms. She led me to the cafeteria, and we let ourselves in. It was dark and empty.
Once again I wished we had the groundskeeping contract. We could get outside and run. I was surprised the Havoc kids hadn’t already tried it. Actually, since the Society had the security contract, it was just us V’s who couldn’t leave the building. Maybe it was time the V’s bid for one of those contracts.
The decorations were already in place, though they looked strange and shoddy without any lighting. The lunch tables were still set up as usual. We had planned to move them later, before the dance.
“We should cancel,” I said. “I know that they want us to have a dance, but how can we?”
Jane shook her head, her face set. “No. We’re not going to cancel. Here, help me.” She climbed up on a chair to reach one side of the banner we’d painted and hung the night before. I went to the other side and helped take it down.
We’d had trouble coming up with a good slogan for the banner. This wasn’t a regular high school, so this dance wasn’t like a regular dance. There was no theme. It didn’t have a name—it wasn’t homecoming or junior prom—so our sign just said maxfield academy dance.
I laid the banner down on a lunch table while Jane rummaged through the decoration supplies. She came back with a smaller sheet of butcher paper, glue, paint, and two brushes.
Following her lead, I trimmed the paper and then glued it to the banner, covering the words Maxfield Academy. Jane sketched new words in pencil, and we finished them with paint. Ten minutes later we stood back and looked at our work.
“‘Lily Paterson Memorial Dance,’” I read. “The Society’s going to be pissed.”
Jane smiled and took my hand. “I hope so.”
