24 Students Remaining #3
My friends are at their usual table when Rani and I get to the cafeteria. We join them, and I quickly tell them all about my draconian punishment, wiggling my bright red fingers in their faces to illustrate.
“That’s barbaric,” Zo says, once I’ve finished. Seven wants to see my fingers to make sure I’m not screwing with them. They study my reddened skin with a curled lip for several moments, as if they don’t believe what they’re seeing. Scar just leans into me, hugging my arm, tears in her eyes.
“We should leave,” she says in a small voice. “This isn’t worth it.”
“Are you kidding?” I say. “I’ve already been punished. I didn’t go through all that for nothing.”
I notice that Seven stays quiet. Zo frowns distantly.
“To be fair, she only got punished because she snuck out after curfew,” Rani says.
Scar rounds on him. “You’re kidding, right?” she says in the meanest voice I’ve ever heard her use to another person. “They hurt her. There’s no justifying that.”
“Yeah,” Zo agrees. She shifts in her seat, uncomfortable. “Maybe Scar’s right. Maybe we should leave. This place is starting to freak me out.”
“Are we really surprised by any of this?” I want to know. I look at Zo and say pointedly, “After what we saw in Calculus? This is what this place is about.”
“It’s not just Calculus,” Scar tells me.
Glancing back at Rani, she adds, “And it’s not just when you break the rules.
This morning, Seven and I had a mock trial to test our knowledge of A Tale of Two Cities in English.
We were held in an actual pillory while we waited to go up.
You know, those wooden frame things with holes for your head and your hands? Like we were criminals.”
“It was supposed to make the whole experience feel authentic, so that we really understood what the characters had gone through,” Seven says, rubbing their neck. “You know: At Luminary, we believe students reach a deeper level of comprehension through practical application—”
“It just hurt,” Scarlett adds, shuddering. “Two people failed that test: Callie Harris and Karly Neelon. Our teacher asked them to stay behind while the rest of us were excused for lunch. I still don’t know what happened to them.”
“I don’t get it,” I say. “Why would they do this stuff to us? Isn’t this supposed to be a really good school?”
“Is it?” Zo cuts in. “I know they’re trying to make it seem like this is some sort of fancy private school, but before coming here, I got the feeling it was a school for kids with, you know…issues.” She raises her eyebrows on the word issues.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
Zo shrugs. “My mom sent me here because I ran away from home. And before that, it’s not like I had good grades or anything. I sort of figured this place was a last resort kind of thing.”
“Yeah, same,” Seven adds. “My gran made it seem like it was going to whip me into shape.”
I go quiet, thinking of the moment Tammy told me about Luminary. How she wanted to make it seem like this place was wonderful, how she wanted me to choose it instead of military school. All so I would convince Scarlett to come here with me.
“Tammy’s been frustrated with you all year,” I point out, turning to Scar. “Because you’ve been rebelling against her, not doing all the things she wants you to do. You think that’s why she wanted you to come here? Because this Wyatt guy promised he could whip you into shape?”
Scar’s nodding along, her eyes distant. “But why would she want you to come here?”
I give Scar a look. “Scar, come on, there are at least fifty reasons I can think of off the top of my head.”
Scar is gnawing on her thumbnail, deep in thought. “But do you think—”
A TA’s voice suddenly rises above the cafeteria noise, cutting her off. “Luminary has a strict no-cell-phone policy, of which you’ve been well informed.”
His voice is stern, angry even. It’s the first time I’ve heard anyone who worked at Luminary speak like that, and we all swivel around in our seats to see who he’s talking to.
Mando hovers near the door to the cafeteria, looking like he’d like nothing better than to sink into the floor and disappear. The TA he’s talking to, Kev, holds a slim silver phone.
“Oh no…Mando must’ve snuck it in,” Scarlett whispers to me. I nod, my gaze drifting around the room. We’re not the only ones watching this happen. The entire cafeteria seems to have gone silent.
“It’s my little sister,” Mando says. Scar squeezes my wrist. “She wanted a way to reach me. I’m sorry—”
“This is a clear violation,” Kev interrupts. He grabs Mando, which makes me flinch. I’m pretty sure teachers—or TAs, or anyone who works for a school—aren’t allowed to touch students.
“Oh no,” Seven mutters under their breath.
I feel my skin start to buzz, a prickling sensation crawling up my spine.
Low murmurs spread throughout the cafeteria, blocking out Mando’s voice.
I can’t hear what he’s saying, but his expression is distressed.
He tries to pull away, but Kev holds tight.
He motions to someone across the room. Scar squeezes me tighter.
We all turn, everyone at my table, our bodies pivoting in unison as a few more TAs approach Mando.
The crowd’s murmur falls into a tense silence as a few TAs take Mando’s arms and pin them behind his back. Only Ashlyn stands back, looking like she wants to disappear into the walls.
I stop breathing. Something is very, very wrong.
Kev has turned to the rest of the room. “It’s good that you’re all here to witness what’s about to happen,” he says.
His voice is strangely delighted, like he’s the ringmaster addressing his audience.
“During orientation, we warned you that we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to anyone disobeying our rules of conduct. I know it can be difficult to understand what that means when you don’t have an example. ”
Mando is yelling now, his voice piercing the thick, charged air. “What are you doing? Let me go—” He struggles against the TAs, but they hold him tight.
“When students break the rules, they will be punished,” Kev continues.
Mando struggles, his body jerking in a futile attempt to break free.
Kev steps forward and I realize he’s holding something.
It’s a rubber mallet.
I stand without thinking about what I’m doing. Scarlett starts to cry.
Kev moves toward Mando, his movements deliberate. Ezra—the TA from Ian’s dorm—twists one of Mando’s arms from his side and slams it onto a table, while the other TAs hold him in place.
Mando’s cries escalate. Now they’re hysterical, heart-wrenching. “Please, I’m sorry, please…”
I want to help him. I start to take a step forward, but Seven grabs me and tugs me back.
“Are you out of your mind?” they hiss.
I swallow, my eyes moving to the mallet in Kev’s hands. I know Seven’s right. There’s nothing I can do. But standing here, watching this happen, it’s wrong.
Ezra positions Mando’s hand flat against the table. Kev raises the mallet.
A hush has fallen over the cafeteria, every single student falling silent, the tension suffocating.
For a second, the entire room is still.
And then the mallet comes down.
The moment lasts forever. There’s the arc of the mallet, and Mando’s wide, bloodred eyes.
Scarlett starts screaming, but the scream sounds very far away, like I’m hearing it underwater or through very thick glass.
I’m aware, vaguely, that Seven’s still holding on to my arms to keep me from pushing through the crowd, but I’m not entirely sure when I started trying to move.
My entire being is focused on the path of that mallet. It moves in slow motion.
And then—
There are too many people crowded in front of me. I hear rather than see it slam down on Mando’s fingers. The crunch of bone.
There’s a clatter that might be Mando’s illicit phone hitting the floor. And then: silence. No one speaks again until Mando’s horrified screams split the room. They’re wretched, gulping things. And they’re everywhere.
I stop fighting against Seven. I can’t catch my breath. All I can think about is the moment Mando told me he didn’t think Scarlett liked him, his long fingers wrapped around his tablet, the torn skin at his thumb. It looked like he’d been chewing his nails, like he was nervous. My chest clenches.
His hand. What did they just do to his hand?
My heart is crashing around inside my chest like a caged animal.
A low, urgent murmuring breaks out around me.
The crowd tightens, people moving forward to get a better glimpse of what just happened.
Kids slam into one another in their rush to see, sending bodies sprawling to the floor.
Chloe Campbell is on her hands and knees, struggling to stand.
I can’t see anything. The top of Mando’s head is just visible between the bodies. Is he okay? I can’t see his face, can’t hear him screaming anymore. My throat closes up.
Jada Brooks lifts a hand to her mouth. “His hand,” she chokes out. “Oh God…”
The taste of bile fills my mouth. I feel an elbow jab into my side, hands clawing at the back of my arm. Everyone’s talking over one another. Their voices are a roar.
And then a voice comes over the intercom: Wyatt Sullivan, his deep rasp far too calm and collected for what’s currently happening.
“I’ve been informed of an incident in the cafeteria,” he says. “It seems that one of our students fell and injured his hand.”
Fell? An incredulous murmur breaks out around me: No one believes this. We all saw what happened to Mando.
“In light of the incident, we are holding an emergency assembly,” Wyatt continues in that strangely calm voice. “Your TAs will lead you to the auditorium safely. That is all.”