Audrey continued, holding out her hand to forestall her. “I know what you’re going to say-the lies, the deliberate obfuscation of our family’s history, and how it is ‘not fair’-and then I would tell you it was for your own good, and life is never fair, and that we should focus on our present duties. So, let us imagine we’ve already covered that well-trodden territory, so I may give you your gifts.”
Fiona blinked.
Eliot didn’t understand. Their dangerous journey today seemed almost par for their new lives. And the mountain of reading they’d have to do seemed right, too. But Audrey accepting a C on tests? Even being proud of them? And now presents on a day that wasn’t their birthday?
Audrey said to Cecilia, “Go prepare dessert.”
“Oh yes, yes.” Cecilia said, and backed toward the kitchen. “Yes.”
“And,” Audrey called after her, “do not
She opened the cigar box she had carried down. Audrey removed two cards, setting one before Fiona, and then Eliot.
He stared into the card’s gleaning stardust platinum surface. It had raised numbers and in capital letters, his name: ELIOT Z. POST. He’d seen these before, working at the pizza parlor, but he never believed he’d have a real credit card himself.
Audrey handed him a ballpoint pen. “Sign the back,” she said. “That’s very important.”
Eliot obeyed, and then handed the pen to his sister. Fiona looked dumbstruck.
“You’ll need a thousand little things for school,” Audrey explained. “More books, clothes, athletic equipment, or the occasional snack. You are to use these for all your expenses.”
Eliot picked the card up. It seemed heavier than plastic, like maybe it was real platinum.
“These cards are financially backed by the League,” Audrey told them, her voice solidifying into its normal somber tone. “I therefore expect you to use them responsibly.”
“We could buy anything?” Eliot asked.
“If you need,” Audrey said. “Yes.”
Before, Eliot always had to scrape together spare change just to buy some juice. Limitless money? It seemed like another test. Like that never-ending box of chocolates his sister had gotten.
“There is a number on the back of the card,” Audrey told them. “Call it if the cards are lost or stolen. It is also the number to call if you need to contact the League for any emergency. Program it into your phones tonight.”
From the cigar box she removed two contoured black shapes and gave one each to Fiona and Eliot.
It easily fit his hand, and his thumb naturally found a recessed button. He pressed it, and the shape clicked open. There was a tiny keyboard, a number pad, and computer screen that lit up.
“I understand that no respectable teenager today is without one of these contraptions,” Audrey said. “I left the phones’ instruction manuals in your rooms.”
“Wow!” Eliot breathed. “Thanks, really!” He got up and gave Audrey a hug.
“Thank you, Mother,” Fiona said. She got up and gave Audrey a hug as well.
“Now, go wash up.” Audrey brushed volcanic ash from Fiona’s skirt. “I cannot believe Cecilia allowed you to the dinner table in such a filthy state.”
Eliot and Fiona obeyed and ran to the bathroom.
Fiona got there first, and started washing her hands.
“This is great,” Eliot told her as he examined his new phone.
“Don’t be a dork,” she replied, scrubbing her face.
“What’s your problem now?”
“We wouldn’t be getting all these things unless we’re going to need them,” Fiona said. “Unless there was
The happiness drained from Eliot.
His sister was correct. Today with the tests, that preview of gym class, the duel they witnessed, and the ride to Hell and back-all that had happened on their
With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Eliot realized that ahead of him was an entire year of days like this.
SECTION II. RIGORS OF ACADEMIC LIFE
Fiona and Eliot strolled into the Hall of Plato. One hundred and twenty-six students, the entire freshman class of Paxington (minus themselves), filled the amphitheater seating of the classroom. The gaslights were lowered. It smelled of chalk dust and old books.
Miss Westin stood upon center stage and peered at them over her glasses. Her gaze chilled Fiona to the bone.
Heads turned their way, and everyone whispered.
“Master and Miss Post,” said Miss Westin. “How good of you to join us again.” She stepped to the lectern, opened a black book, and made two marks.
There had been some confusion this morning because Eliot’s rusty alarm clock had finally busted, and the grandfather clock in the dining room had been sent out for cleaning. Fiona could have sworn they were an hour
“Find a seat,” Miss Westin said. She turned to blackboards suspended by chains from the ceiling. They were covered in her perfect cursive script, and one board had the title,
Fiona looked for seats. There were concentric circles of fold-down seats and desks, but all were taken.
In the dim light, she saw Mitch Stephenson and Robert; either boy, she bet, would have given up his seat. . which would have been nice, but she didn’t want to make any more of a scene than they already had.
“They’re all full,” Eliot whispered. He donned his glasses and looked around the lecture hall. “Should we stand in the doorway?”
How humiliating. Their first real class, and already they looked like total dorks.
“I guess so. . ”
As she turned, however, Fiona spotted Jeremy and Sarah Covington waving to her. They pulled off backpacks and jackets they had set in adjacent seats.
“Ugh. .,” Eliot said.
“Don’t be that way. Come on.”
She clambered down toward the Covingtons, but hesitated. Did she sit next to Jeremy, who had once tried to kiss her? Or next to Sarah, who, for some reason, intimidated her even more than Jeremy did?
Jeremy patted the seat next to him and smiled.
Fiona sat next to Sarah (who scooted away from her).
“Thanks,” Fiona whispered.
“You are most welcome, teammate,” Jeremy said.
Eliot and Jeremy exchanged awkward smiles, and then Eliot took the seat by him.
“About time,” said the boy in front of them, clearly annoyed by this disruption.
“Shhh.” Jeremy’s stare bored into the back of the boy’s head.
Miss Westin cleared her throat. “Before we start our lecture on the modern families, we shall review the
