The Wicked Awakening of Anne Merchant

by Joanna Wiebe

  “That’s gotta have something to do with it,” I say to Harper’s ceiling.

  I’m not slothful by nature. But Acedia, goddess of sloth, is. She could be influencing me right now. This whole challenge could be based around her. Or around all the Seven Sinning Sisters.

  “This could be one part of a bigger challenge. A seven-part challenge.” It hits me what that means. “I’ve barely even started the challenge! Everyone else might have figured this out already.”

  But how could they?

  You’d have to know about the real identity of Invidia and the other six. Who would know that? Ben and I figured it out on our own; Molly would only know because I told her. Is everyone else screwed? Or are they all in different challenges? Or do they all know what I know?

  “Don’t worry about anyone else,” I say.

  But not worrying is just as exhausting as worrying. So I throw the covers over my head, close my eyes, and think of how much I want to stay in bed and waste the day away. I can feel myself nodding off, and it feels delicious. I open my eyes a sliver as I roll away from the sunlight—and I realize I’m not in bed anymore.

  I’m sitting at a breakfast nook in a sunny kitchen. A table of breakfast dainties and savories is before me, and none other than Harper, her dad, and her stepmonster are seated with me.

  Now I know. I know I was right.

  I’m in a challenge. This is it.

  But how did I get from Harper’s room to her kitchen?

  It wasn’t until I stopped fighting my laziness that I got here. I had to give in to the lure of the sisters. Not resist, not do the opposite. I have to sin to win. I’ve already done what Acedia would do—I’ve preferred sleep over activity—so sloth is satisfied. Six to go.

  “Pass the bacon,” Harper says to her dad.

  She flips her straight red hair, and I feel that familiar twinge of jealousy. Envy, I think. This is Invidia’s handiwork; she’s put me in the house of the person I envy most. There’s a reason this Harper doesn’t look like she used to, like she did before she was vivified; I wasn’t jealous of that girl the way I’ve been jealous of the vivified Harper.

  The Otto family kitchen is at least the size of the second floor of our funeral home, and it could be pulled from the pages of a magazine; beyond the folding deck doors that are wide open, letting in a warm breeze, an Olympic-size pool sparkles crystal blue in the sunlight. Harper has so much; they have so much. How can one family have far more than their fair share while my hard-working dad and deserving mother had so little? It eats me up inside. I look at Harper merrily crunching on bacon, and I want her to be the overweight girl she was before. Because she’s not allowed to have everything and be beautiful.

  Their housekeeper comes out of the butler’s pantry carrying a plate of croissants.

  I think I’ve just graduated to gluttony. Because I hit envy out of the park—it was easy.

  There’s no question in my mind that a solid handful of the top students back at Cania are figuring this out, too. Even if their PT isn’t to look closer, and even if the whole school isn’t privy to the true identities of Invidia, Superbia, and their five sisters, they’ll be working their way through this challenge fast because it only takes doing the sin to move along in the challenge; you don’t have to be conscious that you’re even participating in the game.

  So I attack the plate of croissants. Just tear through them like I’m at an old-school pie-eating contest. One after the other. Barely chewing. Washing the buttery bread down with milk, coffee, juice, everything they have on their table. A stack of pancakes follows. And fruit salad. Everything must go.

  Harper and her parents are staring at me. I didn’t know they could see me. They’re an illusion, of course; obviously, Harper isn’t home with her family—she’s at Cania with the rest of us, probably sitting in some classroom, motionless, under a spell in which we’re only virtually doing all of these things.

  “What?” I ask them with my mouth full.

  “Are you okay, dear?” Mr. Otto’s looking at me over the top of his reading glasses. His newspaper is flipped down.

  “You’re not real,” I tell them. “None of this is real. So zip it and let me get gluttony out of the way.”

  “Sweetheart, are you”—Mrs. Otto pauses and glances with concern from Harper to me—“are you hungry?”

  “Obviously.”

  Mr. Otto’s face softens. “Is it your parents? Your dad doesn’t make enough money to feed you, isn’t that right?” He puts his paper down as I stop slurping my coffee long enough to pay attention. “Let us help you. We can give you the money you need for food, clothing, an education.”

  “Help me? I don’t need your help.”

  “It’s as if you haven’t had a decent meal in months,” Mrs. Otto says, tsking in pity.

  Even Harper looks concerned for me.

  Irritated, I shove away from the table. “I don’t need anyone’s help. I can do everything myself. I always have. I always will.”

  Without realizing it, I’ve passed gluttony and moved swiftly through pride. Back at Cania Christy, if the Seven Sinning Sisters are watching me, Superbia, Invidia, Gula, and Acedia can check me off their lists. There’s only Avaritia, Ira, and Luxuria—or greed, wrath, and lust—left.

  I waste no time.

  As Mr. and Mrs. Otto watch in stunned silence, I clutch the string of pearls encircling Mrs. Otto’s neck. I’m about to yank them off. I’m all set to fly through the greed test. But her eyes are so wide with fear, I can’t help but utter the faintest apology for what I’m about to do.

  Which lands me back in Harper’s bed.

  “What the hell?” I snap at the ceiling.

  How frustrating is this?

  I wasn’t remorseless with that sin, so I’m back to square one? Just because I was apologetic. Just because I didn’t let the Seven Sinning Sisters get the better of me. Just because I let a little humanity shine through, which is a no-no in the land of devils and a surefire way to fail at the Scrutiny.

  “Fine!” I shout at the sisters, as if they can hear me. Maybe they can. “Fine, I’ll do it your way. I’ll be the vilest little excuse for a human that ever walked through this house.”

  I whip the blankets over my head. Dutifully, I say, “I wish I could spend all day in bed.”

  I open my eyes expectantly.

  But I’m not in the kitchen.

  Dammit! I don’t have time for this. Which is part of the problem. To pass Acedia’s test, I need to be lazy as all hell. Legitimately lazy. I need to not think about time; I need to drag my ass through life, languishing away.

  With a deep breath, I close my eyes again. And let myself really sink into the pillows, really wrap in the warmth of the duvet. I push out thoughts of moving fast, of winning, of the other kids crossing the finish line, whatever that line looks like, and focus on how tired I am. And I am tired. I even yawn. It occurs to me that winning the Scrutiny isn’t a big deal. No, it’s far better to spend as much time as I can in this bed. It’s beyond comfortable.

  I am sitting in the kitchen.

  I smile. Perfect.

  Enviable Harper is next to me. The platter of croissants follows. Mr. Otto looks like he could cry for me, and I am filled with pride, which makes me want to knock them down to size. So I wrap my fingers around Mrs. Otto’s necklace and, this time—without even a sense of hesitation—yank hard. It pops, Mrs. Otto yelps, and I race after a handful of loose pearls that get away, collecting them all greedily.

  “And nobody touch a bite of this breakfast,” I add. “It’s mine!”

  I glimpse their silver on display in a curio, and I start emptying that as Mrs. Otto whispers to Harper to call the cops.

  “Call the cops?” I repeat. “Nobody’s calling anybody!”

  “You cheap little bitch,” Mrs. Otto snaps at me. “Get out of our house!”

  “Your house?” I stomp up to Harper’s stepmonster. “What did you do to earn this? Marry a man with money? Th
is isn’t your house. These aren’t your pearls, those aren’t your horses in the stables, and this isn’t even your daughter you pretend to care so goddamn much about. You really care, you Botox-injected bitch? Then why do you let her stay at a school you know damn well is run by ‘people’ who can’t possibly be playing for the good team? Why don’t you ask her why she hikes her skirt up and constantly feels the need to display her G-string and bra? Here’s why! Because you don’t care! That’s why she’s there. Because you never cared.”

  I’m seeing red and can hardly breathe when I find myself back at Cania Christy.

  But I haven’t done lust yet. Wrath and greed are both done, but what about lust?

  Then I realize where I’m standing. Not in a room with a bunch of other entranced Cania kids. But in Dia’s office. And Dia’s here, too; he’s leaning against his desk, and his gaze is fixed on me.

  “It’s all come so easily to you,” he says. “You’re light-years ahead of everyone else. Even your little boyfriend Ben isn’t this far ahead, and he knows all about the Seven Sinning Sisters, doesn’t he?”

  I’m winning?

  “Are you real?” I ask.

  “Do you wonder why it comes so easily to you?”

  “You’re trying to slow me down, aren’t you?”

  He smiles. “I want you to be honest with me.”

  “If you’ll be honest with me.”

  “Ask me anything, Anne, and I will tell you. But I cannot break the code of the underworld. I cannot reveal anything about a superior devil.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You realize this is a foot race, right?”

  “A superior devil?” I wrack my brain. “Do you mean Mephisto?”

  “As I said, I can say nothing.”

  Just like Pilot said! Damn demonic hierarchies. But what does Dia know about Mephisto?

  “Why did you tell me to trust my PT yesterday?” I ask him. “I want the truth.”

  “Because I wanted to give you a chance to win. But not because I want you to leave. Simply because it’s not safe for you here. And now,” his gaze rolls from my head to my toes and back again, making me want to slap him, “be honest with me.”

  “About what?”

  “How did you feel when I embarrassed you in the library in front of everyone?”

  “You mean yesterday?”

  He nods.

  “Embarrassed. You hit the nail on the head. That’s how I felt. Now, can you put me in whatever task will make Luxuria happy so I can finish this race?”

  “Embarrassed?”

  I groan. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

  “You said you’d be honest, Anne.”

  “I am!”

  “Then tell me how you felt. When I stood in front of you. And I moaned and told you to make me feel it.”

  “Em-barr-assed.”

  “But in fact you felt…?”

  And then I realize.

  How did I not realize?

  “You think I lust for you?” I utter, unable to believe it.

  “I know you do. You look at me.”

  He pushes away from his desk and steps toward me. I back up.

  “I look at you? Like when I’m painting you?”

  “You’re attracted to me.”

  “I think you’re a better looking dude than I’d like you to be, sure—”

  “Exactly.”

  “But I’m into Ben. Completely.”

  “Then why am I here? Why did Luxuria put me in your challenge? They got Harper and her family right, didn’t they? You whipped through the first six parts of this with the greatest of ease. Could they have been wrong to finish with me as the object of your lust, the sin you should give in to?”

  He’s backed me all the way against the door.

  “Do the wrong thing, Anne,” he says. “Do what scares you. It’s the only way to succeed in life, or at least at Cania Christy. The right thing is usually just a cover for something wrong anyway.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  “Just do it. Do anything. Bite my lip. Suck my tongue. Surrender to lust.”

  In a heartbeat, I grab his hair and kiss him, just cutting off the last of his words as I do. Our mouths are open; I’m stunned by how swiftly he envelopes me. A flash of light explodes behind my eyes, and I see something, feel something I haven’t felt since the night Harper screamed. It’s overpowering.

  The sound of applause forces my eyes open again.

  I am in Valedictorian Hall.

  And I am breathless in the aftermath of kissing a dark lord, of doing the worst thing I could do just to win a stupid race.

  MAESTRO INSULLIS BEGINS playing the organ at the front of the hall as Dia and the Seven Sinning Sisters, all of them clapping, glance from me to an enormous projection screen covering the wall of vials. My face, hot with a blush, is showing on the screen. My name and year are at the bottom of it, and my status as winner for the junior class is confirmed in print.

  I need to catch my breath.

  I look away from Dia. Fast.

  I’m surrounded by 200 unmoving students on gleaming pews. Well, 198 of us are unmoving. Hiltop, the fake student, is standing at the back of the room. I am the first actual student to burst, with a jolt, out of the trance. I am the first to escape the illusion. I am the first to wake from the Scrutiny.

  “I won,” I whisper.

  Molly sleeps a few people down from me, and Emo Boy is to my left. I turn to find Ben is with all the other seniors in the three rows behind mine. Their heads are down. I wonder what they’re each going through. Who they envy, who they lust after, what inspires their wrath, and if they’re going with or against the compulsion to sin in these minor, everyday ways.

  Guardians are lined against the walls. Pilot sees me shake off the residual grogginess caused by the spell I just broke and storms out of the building. I spy Teddy, who stares blankly ahead, as if I’m invisible and not the winner for the junior class, as if I don’t have the option of leaving now and letting him do what he will without me. But he knows I won’t leave. He knows I wouldn’t let my mom down.

  So what will I do? What will I ask for?

  I laugh to myself. It’s so obvious. I’m going to give Ben a new life.

  Smiling now, I take in the long, narrow, and ornately decorated room I haven’t seen in months, the room that’s supposed to be locked until graduation day. Candles flicker in sconces and from three massive chandeliers. Portraits of past valedictorians circle the perimeter of the room. At the front, with a new floating stage before it, stands the massive apothecary-style wall I know well; in each of its small locked doors are vials of blood belonging to the students of Cania Christy.

  Dia arrives in front of me and takes my hand. It’s too soon for him to touch me. The memory of kissing him is too fresh. Does he know about it?

  “Congrats,” he says casually. Maybe he hasn’t got a clue that he was lust for me? “I don’t think Hiltop’s impressed,”—we glance and find her scowling our way—“but it’s my school now, right?”

  Molly wakes with a start, which Dia takes as his cue to leave.

  “Beat you,” I say lightly to her.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  We both look at Ben. Still no movement. But a boy near him—a senior named Toshio—starts shaking his head, waking. I grimace; why can’t Ben win this? He knows about the Seven Sinning Sisters! Toshio’s eyes, wet with tears, open.

  Harper wakes just after Toshio does. She snorts hard at my picture on the screen.

  The first freshman and sophomore to wake shriek uncertainly and then powerfully, getting up to dance little jigs on the spot when they realize they’ve won. Our photos rotate on the screen.

  I’m watching Ben when his head lifts. It takes a moment before his gaze finds mine, and I wave. His face is flush, making me wonder if he finished with Luxuria’s challenge, too, and, if so, whether I was his object of lust or not.

  “Am I first?” he
mouths. Frowning, I shake my head and point to Toshio, who is rubbing his face maniacally and sweating like the devil in a lightning storm. Ben shrugs then adds, “Are you the first junior?”

  A smile spreads across my face, and his eyes light up. But darkness replaces whatever initial joy he may have felt. Because the question of the hour is, what will I ask for?

  “So,” Molly says, nudging me, “you need to ask for unlimited wishes. Totally. If one of you four lunatics doesn’t ask for that, I’ll lose all faith in humanity.”

  More people awaken, one after the other, some with shouts, some with tears.

  When others block my view of Ben, I turn to Molly.

  “Do you think the reward is transferable?” I ask her.

  “Girl, you planning on giving me your prize?” She slaps at me. “I love you, but I couldn’t possibly! …Oh, all right, twist my arm. I’ll take it!”

  “Molly.”

  “Okay, I’ll be serious. Well, Dia said the winner can choose something for themselves.” She doesn’t look hopeful. “Freeing Ben would be, in effect, for you. So maybe.”

  The teachers tell everyone to return to their seats as Dia and the Seven Sinning Sisters take the stage. The walls seem held up by Guardians, all but three of them expressionless.

  Superbia claps her hands, and the twenty or so remaining students who hadn’t awoken open their eyes, lift their heads. Emo Boy, seated next to me, stares around like he’s in the wrong place and grinds his fists into his eyes until it seems he might rip his retinas right off; his eyes are red when he darts a glare at me.

  I hadn’t given any thought to those who believed they were among the Lucky Ten. Now I wish I’d never seen Emo Boy wake. You can almost see hope drain like blood from his skin. He thought it was real. I wish I didn’t know that. I wish my imagination didn’t jump to how long he lay in bed, filled with certainty that he’d been granted a special prize. I wish I couldn’t hear his light sobs as everything he almost had vanishes. He innocently, naively hoped, never remembering that the only way to survive Hell is to abandon all hope.

  Dia switches on the microphone.

  “How was that for a challenge?” he says, panning the room with his arms out like Cristo Redentor. “Pretty cool stuff!”