The Pretenders

by Rebecca Hanover

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” I indicate the IV pole and bag. “The product of your ‘research’?”

  “That is the cocktail, yes,” Headmaster Ransom says, almost reverently.

  “I’ll expose you,” I say, my cheeks burning. “I’ll tell the whole world that you only invited the Similars to Darkwood so you could exploit them. To use their blood and cells for your own gain, because you’re ill.”

  Ransom picks up an IV cannula, tying a blue band tight around his arm so his vein will be properly positioned. “You’re too late. This infusion contains the platelets and plasma that will provide me with the longevity I’m seeking.” He pricks his arm with the cannula and inserts the IV. I watch, intrigued but disgusted. I want to take in every detail, in case this information may be useful later on. “Once it’s in my system, you can’t do anything about it, Emmaline.”

  “Yes, I can. I’ll go to the authorities. The FBI. I’ll tell them that you stole that cocktail, that you have no right to it! You’ll be prosecuted!”

  “How?” The IV starts to flow through the tubing and straight into his veins. “Your friends gave their permission to be a part of this scientific study. In writing.”

  “But they’re minors!” I point out. “Their guardian didn’t agree to it, did he?”

  “Certainly he did,” Ransom responds. The plasma continues to flow through the tube. Headmaster Ransom leans back in his leather chair, letting his fingers relax and breathing deeply. “We’re old friends, John Underwood and I. He was a student here when I first began my teaching career.”

  “I know.” I’ve seen Gravelle’s—I mean, Underwood’s—memories. Ransom was in charge of the disciplinary hearing that ended in Underwood’s expulsion, after the prank in the science lab that went horribly wrong. Underwood was the only student asked to leave Darkwood, even though some of his friends were equally guilty. They didn’t stand up for him—which is why he’s been seeking revenge on their families ever since.

  “I believe we’re done here. Or would you prefer a detention, Emmaline? Because you’re turning misbehavior at the outset of the school year into quite a pattern.”

  Wait, I’m the one doing something wrong? When he was the one who forced my friends to sit in those chairs and be subjected to weekly “treatments” at the hands of Principal Fleischer?

  “Did you hear me, Emmaline?” Ransom makes a fist with his hand, then flexes his fingers, letting the contents of the IV continue to flow into his body. “You just confessed to me that you were in the abandoned science building last year without faculty clearance. I’d be happy to add on an extra week of duty for that infraction, which went unpunished. But I can let that slide—if you leave. Now.”

  I don’t want to go and let Ransom win. But what can I do? If the Similars really did give their written consent, and Gravelle did too, would a contract like that hold up in court? Even if it wouldn’t, the Similars would never want to sue Ransom. Without him and his “hospitality,” they might be deported and sent back to Castor Island. The thought of that, of them leaving Darkwood and taking with them my one solid tie to Levi, makes my stomach churn.

  There’s not a thing I can do or say right now. Without another word, I go, simply turning and walking down the hallway, away from Ransom’s office, suddenly missing Levi so acutely that tears begin to stream down my face.

  • • •

  We’re sitting on the bed in our hotel room in Bar Harbor, the one we shared before the final leg of our journey to Castor Island. Levi’s on one side, leaning back on the pillows, his hand behind his head. I’m sitting cross-legged mere inches from him, but it feels like miles. With every breath I take, I sense Levi watching me. In my mind, all I can think is I want the gap between us to disappear. We’re only on opposite sides of the bed, but I never want to be this far from him again. Ever.

  “Levi?” I say, my voice breathless and unsure.

  “Yes?” he answers. I cling to his voice like a lifeline.

  “Did you mean what you told Gravelle? That coming to Darkwood was…a mistake? That it—that I—wasn’t good for you?”

  Levi looks at me, his brow furrowed. With his fingers, he smooths out the thigh of his dark-washed jeans. I see the lean muscles of his arms tensing, and I’m reminded of how much I love the feeling of those arms wrapped around me…

  In two seconds flat, he’s bridged the distance between us on the bed.

  “Levi, I—”

  Whatever I was going to say doesn’t matter, because Levi’s mouth is on my mouth, and we are kissing, and finally, finally, I have him back.

  I wake with a start, sweating, grasping for the image of him and me, together, in each other’s arms. I know before I even open my eyes that it’s gone, because it was only a dream. Levi isn’t here. All I want to do is buzz him. Talk to him. Write to him. But Gravelle’s threat lingers in my mind. I can’t put Levi in danger. Maybe you already have.

  I trudge to a late Saturday morning breakfast. On my way to the dining hall, I pass Archer, who’s looking surprisingly fresh this morning after his drunken interlude. He’s standing with several first-year kids, posing for pictures with a plum on a selfie stick. They’re fawning all over him.

  When I make it to the cafeteria, Ollie’s there, sitting with Pru and the Similars. He surprises me with a tray of my favorite foods: a bagel, dry toast, one egg sunny-side up, and black coffee. The selection makes me smile. He knows me so well.

  “No sugar, no milk. I don’t know how you drink it without gagging, but there you go.” Ollie smirks.

  I play punch him, relieved the spell of last night seems to be broken. He’s acting like normal Ollie.

  “What’d I miss last night?” I ask my friends in between bites of toast.

  “After Archer’s over-the-top speech?” Pru answers. “Everyone danced. Masks came off. The usual. But tell us about Ransom! What happened?”

  “Ransom?” Maude asks sharply. “What about him?”

  “Emma followed him out of the dance,” Ollie explains. “Said he was going to inject himself…”

  “With the plasma from his ‘experiment,’” I explain. “Your plasma. Let’s just say, if I go missing, it’s because I’ve been sentenced to duty for the rest of my life. Ransom didn’t even deny that he’s been experimenting on you. He’s already injected himself with the ‘cocktail.’ That’s what he called it. He said you have no rights because you signed a contract…”

  “We did,” Jago answers. “He’s not wrong.”

  “But would it even hold up, in court?” I press.

  “We’ve talked about this, Emma,” Maude jumps in. “It’s not in our best interests to fight him on this.”

  “Prudence?” says a voice, and we all look up to see Tessa standing there by our table, balancing a tray in one hand and a supple leather bag in the other. She wears another funky outfit—a purple bomber jacket with shredded jeans and patent leather booties. “Pru?” she repeats. “Can I sit here?”

  “Um. Sure?” Pru answers, completely blindsided. Tessa wants to sit next to her? After conking her over the head last year with a rowing oar in the boathouse and leaving her for dead? What could she possibly have to say to Pru, anyway? Tessa’s lucky that judge took pity on her and sent her to a treatment facility, not prison. How can she act like everything’s normal?

  Tessa sets down her tray, places her bag on an empty chair, and gingerly takes the spot next to Pru. I find myself tensing, feeling protective of Pru and everything she’s gone through this last year.

  “I’m not that great at this,” Tessa says, looking for once like she actually cares about something other than her nail polish color. “So please hear me out. I’ve been practicing for weeks. I’m sorry for what I did to you last year. It wasn’t fair. I screwed up badly, and I really, really hope we can be friends going forward. Okay?” Tessa pauses. What is she expecting, appla
use? Ollie and I share a look. Pru bristles.

  “Friends. You want us to be friends,” Pru repeats.

  “Yes. I’ve been participating in these workshops at Creekside—that’s my treatment facility—and all the experts say the first step toward gaining self-acceptance is to apologize to all the people you’ve wronged.” She suddenly looks unsure of herself. She fiddles with the strap of her bag.

  “I seriously can’t believe you’re making this about you,” I snap.

  I don’t have a chance to say more, because there’s a commotion on the other side of the dining hall. We all look over to see what’s going on.

  “No way.” Ollie laughs, looking surprised and maybe a little impressed. “Seriously?”

  “What? What’s going on?” I ask him. “I can’t see.” I stand up to get a better look.

  “Is that a goat?” Pru says, incredulous.

  It does appear to be a goat—in the Darkwood dining hall. Running between the tables and benches, streaking here and there, the animal seems to be thoroughly enjoying itself. Most of the student body is cheering, laughing, and pointing. Some kids are standing up on benches and chairs. I’d venture a guess that this is the first time in Darkwood history that livestock has been let into the cafeteria. But who did this? And why?

  Then I notice Jake, wearing that same slick blazer he had on yesterday, surrounded by several other seniors. They’re trying to corral the goat, rather unsuccessfully. “Here, boy!” Jake calls out. “This way! No—you can’t eat eggs Benedict! Bad goat! Bad!”

  Jake’s cracking up, obviously having the time of his life, and he’s not the least bit concerned that whoever is responsible has broken about fifty school rules by inviting this farm animal here.

  “Who did this?” a voice barks. We turn to watch Headmaster Ransom stride into the dining hall, looking even angrier than he did when Archer made that ridiculous speech last night.

  “It was me, sir,” Jake pipes up, holding back a grin.

  Ransom stares Jake down. “And why, may I ask, did you bring this ruminant animal onto campus?”

  Pru and Ollie are barely stifling their laughter. Maude, Theodora, and Ansel exchange looks. I glance over at Tessa, who’s watching all this unfold without saying a word. She seems mesmerized by the sight of the frisky goat. A small smile creeps over her lips, and I swear she looks almost pleased and proud of Jake. But I can’t imagine why Jake would do this. It’s funny, and I’m sure he’s amused to have pulled off such a great prank, one that’ll likely go down in the Darkwood annals. But is it really worth all the trouble he’s going to get into?

  I notice that Archer has walked in, just in time to see his buddy facing off with Ransom. Archer skips to his friend’s side, clapping his hands a couple of times to get the goat’s attention. The goat’s trying to eat the hem of a girl’s skirt, and she’s attempting to shoo him off.

  “It wasn’t only Jake’s idea,” Archer tells Ransom. “We both thought it would be hilarious to invite a goat to breakfast. Goats love pancakes, don’t they?”

  “Right now he’s loving pima cotton!” The girl in the skirt scowls at him. Jake and Archer manage to pull the goat away from her. Annoyed, she flops back into her seat.

  Ransom flexes his hands into fists. “Archer, you are no longer a student at this school. Lucky for you, or you’d be in quite the pickle, following up last night’s display with this morning’s shenanigans. Jake, I’ll see you in my office, after you detain that animal—”

  His words cut off abruptly, and not everyone notices at first, since they’re all still whooping and hollering at the goat, trying out names for it and skipping out of the way as it continues to race around the cafeteria. But I see it right away: Ransom, faltering. He grabs the back of the chair next to him to steady himself. Then he closes his eyes, like he’s suddenly overcome with a wave of nausea or wooziness. Before I can fully comprehend what’s happening, he has collapsed to the ground, his body splayed out on the ancient wooden floorboards.

  “Ollie,” I say, pointing in Ransom’s direction.

  “Is that Ransom?” he asks, jumping up to see.

  “He collapsed. I saw him grab the back of that chair. And then…” I make a falling gesture with my hand.

  Maude jumps up on her seat, craning to see. Jago and Theodora head into the crowd to get a closer look.

  “Someone call the school nurse. Or 911!” a voice shouts. Word has gotten around that Ransom has fallen. That he fainted, or had a heart attack, or something. The whole room erupts in chaos, and that seems to only rile up the goat, which has now leaped right onto a table and is eating the food off every single plate.

  Within minutes, paramedics arrive and rush to Ransom’s side. I watch them load him onto a gurney and slide him out the double doors as quickly as they possibly can. The goat being long forgotten, now all anyone can talk about is Headmaster Ransom. Is he going to be all right?

  “The plasma,” I whisper to my friends. It’s got to be the reason he collapsed. “His treatments are as experimental as you can get,” I tell them. “I doubt he even has a doctor on board, advising him. For all we know, that cocktail he injected in his arm last night was lethal.”

  For all we know, Headmaster Ransom is dead.

  Jake

  The rest of Saturday, all anyone can talk about is Ransom’s collapse. We have next to no information about what hospital he’s been taken to, what condition he’s in, or if he’s even alive. All anyone can do is speculate. Theories abound, but none of them come close to what I believe is the truth: that Ransom’s risky experiment may have killed him.

  Pru, Ollie, and I meet up with the Similars at lunch, grabbing sandwiches and bringing them to the shore of Dark Lake for a makeshift picnic. Ollie’s next to me, spreading his backpack and lunch on the grass and stretching his legs. His brown hair hangs in his eyes, which are grayer than ever, and his lips turn up in a smile as he holds out his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich to me.

  “Wanna go halfsies?” he asks.

  “Always.” I hand him half of my grilled cheese.

  I’m hiding how nervous I feel that he’s going to bring up his feelings. It’s like they’re a booby trap, lying in wait for me to step on them so they’ll detonate.

  I’m drawn out of my reverie by Jago, who’s referencing this morning’s antics with the goat. “Jake’s getting more immature as he ages. Not less. Must be because he’s back for a fifth year,” Jago says. “He’s embarrassed that he’s not at college yet, so he’s showing off.”

  “You mean acting out,” Pru notes.

  “But what about Archer?” Maude wonders, directing the comment to Ansel. “What happened on the set of Space Wars this summer that made him so cocky? Besides the paparazzi, I mean. And all those fans… And why is he spending all this time here?”

  “He said he was bored after shooting wrapped,” Ansel answers. “NYU doesn’t start till next week, so he’s hanging out at the old alma mater, crashing with me on the floor of my room. I really hope this is a phase. I don’t feel like being ‘bros’ with this new, unimproved Archer.”

  “Dash,” I address my bot, feeling suddenly curious, “pull up Archer de Leon’s social media feed.”

  “Certainly, Emma,” Dash answers, and within moments, my plum screen is filled with Archer’s posts. There’s a picture of Archer, last week, with his castmates on Space Wars. Archer, five days ago, posing for selfies with fans. And one from last night. A photo taken from a beach in Thailand. Archer’s not in it; it’s a landscape of a gorgeous sunset, captioned “Bangkok Nights. Can’t believe I have to go home next week. Space Wars, it’s been real.”

  “Guys?” I say to my friends, interrupting their conversation. “How did Archer take this photo from a beach in Thailand last night, if he was here, at the masquerade ball, acting like an ass?”

  Ollie, Pru, and the others crowd aroun
d my plum to get a look at the photo.

  “That’s weird,” says Pru.

  “It’s not just weird; it makes no sense,” Maude counters. “But there’s got to be an explanation. A perfectly logical one. Obviously.”

  “Ansel?” Jago asks. “When exactly did Archer finish up filming? Wasn’t he here at the beginning of the school year?”

  “Yeah, he was,” Ansel says, perplexed as he stares at the screen. “He came back to the States on the first day of school to see me off and do some interviews in New York. The Today show or something. I dunno. I can’t really keep up with his schedule. He’s all over the place. Back and forth between New York, Cali, and the set.”

  “Maybe that’s an old photo.” Pippa shrugs. “A throwback. And he posted it last night, even though he was here. He probably even has one of those social media consultants to do it for him.”

  “I guess,” I say, but something about it’s not sitting right with me.

  “Or his account was hacked,” Maude says with authority. “It happens all the time.” Then she completely switches gears. “Who wants to go for a swim?” Maude jumps up and tosses off her cardigan. She grabs Jago by the hand and begins pulling him to his feet. He laughs, following her to the shore of the lake. Soon Ansel, Pippa, and Theodora are joining them.

  Ollie looks from me to Pru, dumbfounded. “That lake’s cold. Are they seriously going swimming?”

  “Looks like it,” Pru answers, crumpling up her lunch sack and collecting her bag.

  “But they’re not wearing swimsuits,” Ollie points out.

  “It’s something they kind of…do,” I explain to Ollie. I don’t want to get much further into it; Ollie knows the Similars have capabilities, but not much more than that. I watch as my friends dive into the lake, fully dressed, swimming in a synchronized way that reveals they’ve been practicing like this for years.

  “I’ve gotta go—crew team meeting,” Pru explains. I give her a quick wave goodbye, and she scampers off. Now only Ollie and I are left lying back on the grass, like we always used to do. Alone. My heart starts pounding wildly with anticipation and dread. He’s going to say something to me now, about his feelings. It’s the perfect opportunity.