Chapter Twenty-One #2
The next morning, my body feels heavy and sullen. I plod through showering, dressing, packing my bag for class. Clawed thoughts keep tearing painful strips out of me.
You came so close to the Archive. Nothing.
You came too close to Vik. You shouldn’t have.
I plan to abduct a bagel from the dining hall as soon as it opens, before other breakfasters arrive, but my slo-mo misery makes me a little too late. When I push inside, a few students already dot the tables.
A few including Candace, Bree, and Peyton.
They sit clustered under a window about ten feet from me. Candace has her back to the hall, her shoulders tense under a green sweater. Bree’s eyes are pink-rimmed and puffy; Peyton snuffles into a messy fistful of tissues.
“Her stuff was just gone,” Peyton whimpers. “If it’s not true, why wouldn’t she say goodbye?”
“Kids drop out every year.” Candace sounds like she’s trying to be the voice of reason but isn’t convinced by her own calm-and-collected act. “Maybe the Academy was too much for her.”
“She had tons of talent.”
“You said she had problems controlling her nav, though, right?”
“But why even come back from break if she was going to drop out the next day?” Bree asks desperately. “Unless…”
“She hated her foster parents,” Peyton says. “Hated them. She wouldn’t have gone home unless it really is true.”
I waver near the doors. Any second, Bree or Peyton could spot me.
Since my roommates returned from break, I’ve avoided them.
I don’t want our first post-break (and post-friend-breakup) interaction to involve them catching me eavesdropping.
But this story of a student vanishing from the Academy, possessions and all, without warning or a goodbye…
It reminds me of Vik’s story about Jake.
“Hey, Norah,” Griffin says softly.
I whip around.
There he is, Golden Boy, Archive trial winner—but he looks kind of wretched. His shoulders slump, his head hangs low, and blue shadows smudge the skin under his eyes.
“Bad Thanksgiving?” I ask in undertone.
“Huh?” After a blank moment, he processes the question. “No. It was great. Dad’s super proud.”
Muffled sobs escape Peyton. Bree, with a helpless frown, rubs Peyton’s shoulder; her other hand grips Candace’s tightly.
“Do you know what’s going on?” I whisper to Griffin.
He winces. “It’s Peyton’s blockmate, Aria. She dropped out.”
“Is that all? I couldn’t help overhearing…” I trail off. I could have helped overhearing. But the question itches at me: What are Bree and Peyton so worried is true?
Griffin hesitates. His face darkens. Then, after some internal spasm, it clears.
He leans close, somber but conspiratorial.
“Rumors are already going around. They’re saying she didn’t just drop out.
Yesterday, she was alone in a library study room, practicing her nav—and a beast manifested.
Bit her. The administration forced her to take an immediate leave of absence, to keep from scaring other students.
Drove her off campus on a midnight shuttle, this whole cloak-and-dagger thing. ”
My jaw goes slack with shock. “Rumors are going around already? If she was alone in the library when it happened, how would anyone know?”
Griffin shrugs. “About the bite? No idea. But Mirabel saw security packing Aria into a shuttle last night.”
“I…” Something about this story is off. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Yeah.” Griffin’s conspiratorial air drains from him. “It’s bad. Be safe, Norah.”
I nod numbly. Then I flee the dining hall. Way more than I need to get a bagel, I need to be alone. I need to think.
All day, questions careen through my mind.
What went on in the Archive last night? Why did Aria really leave the Academy?
In AP Statistics, I spot Peyton, wan and miserable, and I wonder: Does she know more than she’s saying?
Outside nav clinic, I pass Mr. Davis. He’s complaining to Dr. Ortega that Dr. Langmore tapped them to chaperone the Winter Formal again, and I wonder: Did he discover Highwall’s cure while he was itemizing her papers?
Did he keep it a secret? Is he selling it to donors, pocketing the cash?
By evening, my head is practically vibrating off my shoulders. I arrive early to the basketball courts and pace, ping-ponging between the forest’s edge and the asphalt.
As soon as Vik appears, I ask, “Did you hear about Aria?”
Vik nods grimly.
“Sound familiar?”
“Too familiar.”
“Do you think…” I try to review the possibilities dispassionately, but my skull buzzes like a hive of angry bees.
“People are saying a beast attacked her in the library. Do you think she saw Mr. Davis doing something suspicious and he—he navigated a beast to bite her? I mean, we know beast manifestations are probabilistic, we know Cold War researchers were trying to summon swarms with nav, so…”
Vik shakes his head. “You could summon a beast with nav, yeah. But even if a beast bit Aria, it didn’t kill her. Not right away. If she saw something, she could still spread the word. To shut someone up quickly and permanently, summoning a single beast isn’t…efficient.”
“But it’s a weird coincidence, right? Mr. Davis sneaking into the Archive after hours, Aria getting bitten in the library the same day…” I stop, playing back Vik’s last words in my mind. “Even if a beast bit Aria, you said. You don’t think the rumors are true?”
He shrugs stiffly. “Aria vanishes. Right away, rumors start that would make most people afraid to go near her, maybe scared to contact her. Jake vanished. Right away, rumors started that would make people cross the street to avoid him. No, I don’t believe the rumors.
I think someone is using them to keep students from asking more questions. ”