“Alright, Elimina, why don’t you start?” Louis says, raising one hand over his brow to shelter his eyes from the sun.
“No, you start, Louis—seeing as it’s Murray’s first time. Why don’t you show him how this works,” I say, and Murray grins with his crooked mouth.
“Fine. Let’s talk about May Bennet,” Louis says.
May Bennet arrived on the same day as Murray Smith. She was the last one to exit the small van of transfers who came from an academy that was shut down abruptly by the Mainland government for reasons no one really knew. May had a soft belly and a round face, with freckles so perfectly placed on the bridge of her nose they looked like they’d been drawn on with pencil. Her curls were messy and wild, and her skin was always red and splotchy from crying.
May slept in the bed next to me in the West Hall, and every night, she tossed and turned, flailing her arms and groaning like she was running from something that would catch her eventually if she ever slowed down. By morning, I would find her in such a deep sleep that I’d have to shake her and call her name loudly over and over in order to get her up.
“Please. I just want to go home,” she would say as I helped her into her clothes. “Please, Elimina. I just want to go home.”
Most students at Livingstone Academy were terrified at the thought of going back, afraid to be seen as failures. Once or twice a year, students wrote home to say thank you for this amazing opportunity, promising Redemption Freedom with letters that were full of love. No one wanted to go back and admit they had lied—that they’d had a difficult time and were now adding to their family debts and difficulties by returning empty-handed. But May Bennet didn’t care. She just wanted to go back to the Gutter.
“She’s not pulling her weight in the housekeeping department,” Louis says, and Murray nods as I adjust one lock of my hair.
“She’s not even making her own bed,” Murray says, and I wonder how he got that information. Who told him what goes on in the West Hall?
“It’s clear something needs to be done,” Louis says.
“Louis—” I start to say, but Murray interrupts me.
“It’s like she’s forgotten why we’re here,” Murray says to Louis, with his eyes fixed on me, and for a moment I’m not quite sure if he’s talking about me or May Bennet.
“Well, then she needs a reminder. Don’t you agree, Junior?” Louis says, and I shrug because I don’t like the way it feels to be up against Louis and Murray.
“We should definitely do something,” Murray says.
“We?” I say, rolling my eyes because I don’t want to admit that they’re right.
May Bennet sits by herself at every meal, moving her food around her plate but barely eating anything, which causes trouble for the kitchen staff, who are punished by Chef Boris for wastefulness, as though not eating a meal is a sign of poor work. According to Josephine, May sits in the corner and cries all day instead of folding sheets or sweeping hallways, and Miss Darling and all of the housekeeping students are losing their patience. They’re tired of taking on the tasks she never completes and sending her off to Nurse Gretchen.
“We can’t let her keep going on like this,” Louis says. “She needs to learn. She can’t graduate if she doesn’t know better. There are standards for Livingstone graduates that we have to maintain.”
“She doesn’t want to be here,” I say.
“It doesn’t matter what she wants, Junior. Mr. Gregors needs her to work,” he says. “She’s letting us all down by not doing her share. Other people have to pick up her slack, and I don’t think that’s fair—do you?”
Murray nods, scratching at a scab near his elbow.
I let out a long, deep exhale. “What do you think we should do, Louis?”
“What do I think we should do? Why am I always the one who has to do this kind of work for you? I don’t know why Mr. Gregors gave you that coat if you’re not willing to do the work that goes with it,” Louis says, and Murray nods again, their heads bobbing in unison.
“Look, Louis, May’s not pulling her weight, but she’s not a mean person. Let’s give her a warning. We’ll let her know that if she doesn’t start pulling her weight by the end of the week, she’ll get the leashes,” I say.
“A warning? You want to give her a warning?” Murray shouts, arms wide and raised, like the very idea offends him.
“The leashes work best when students are given a chance to change first,” I say to Murray. “That’s the ultimate goal, right, Louis? To change her behavior, to get her to do her job so she can graduate? Isn’t that what you said?”
Louis puckers his lips and pulls on his chin like he’s not sure how to follow through on his own words without appearing weak in front of Murray.
The leashes at Livingstone Academy were meant to be used on students who stole something or hurt someone, or who ignored the rules like Ally and Sam did. They had never been used on someone like May Bennet, who seemed to suffer from what I could only describe as an overwhelming sadness.
“I’ll warn her, and if she doesn’t change, it’s the leashes. Willful disobedience,” I say, one of Louis’s favorite reasons for using the leashes.
“Fine, Junior. But when she doesn’t do what she’s asked—and Junior, I can bet you right now that she won’t—you’ll be the one to deal with it. You’ll be the one to snap the leashes around her neck,” he says, and Murray picks up a rock and throws it, like this whole meeting was a waste of his time.
AFTER TWO CLEAR warnings and three more days of tears, I sentence May Bennet to one full day on the leashes for failing to complete mandatory work requirements and for willful disobedience. On the day of the leashing, the sun is bright and warm and the birds soar overhead, chirping and happy, as Louis and Murray cool the concrete with a bucket of water.
May leans into me, squeezing my arm and pressing her face into my shoulder, as we make our way to the courtyard, like she’s too tired to stand on her own. I resist the urge to hug or console her, because I warned her and she didn’t change. I just try to think about what Mr. Gregors said when he gave me the red coat as I swallow the angry lump in my throat. Sometimes it’s necessary.
When May sees the chains lying across the concrete, she starts to shake, and I wonder how she’ll survive twenty-four hours. If she cries too much, Murray said she could choke on her own spit or vomit and die—that it had happened to someone he knew.
“I mean, they didn’t die, but it was close,” he said, like part of him was disappointed.
I lead May up to the concrete block and grab the metal collar, holding it open and standing in front of her as Louis and Murray watch. She looks at me, gray eyes pleading.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she says through tears, the same way she did with each warning. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“You need to stop crying so I can put this on properly,” I say with a sharp edge in my voice that frightens her and makes me want to look away.
She looks sad and wounded, and when she sees the anger and disappointment on my face, she cries even harder.
“Stop it, May,” I say in a whisper that’s mean and snakelike. “Do you want to die with this around your neck?”
She takes one deep breath and then another until the tears slow. But when I snap the collar closed with a click, she opens her eyes wide, lips quivering, tears starting again.
“Listen to me,” I say, grabbing her face with both hands. “It’s one night. You have one night to keep it together.”
“I’m sorry, Elimina,” she says, and I turn away.
Louis leads the Livingstone students to the courtyard after dinner, when May has been on the leashes for a few hours. She’s red and sweaty from the hot sun, and when she sees the crowd of students, she starts crying again until Murray threatens a second day.
When all the students have gathered around, Louis instructs us to bark. I bark soft and quiet, barely opening my mouth while everyone barks around me. But when Louis shrie
ks at us to do better, to bark louder, I close my eyes and open my mouth, barking so loud I hardly recognize myself.
When I open my eyes, I find Louis watching me, smiling and nodding his approval, as though I’ve finally earned his respect.
DAVID FINDS ME at the back of the Fieldhouse when the sun is sinking behind the trees.
“Elly?” he says.
I turn and try to smile, wiping away tears with my wrist. “How did you know I was here?”
“I watched you,” he says, sliding down beside me. “I waited a little while. Thought you might need some time alone. You okay?”
I breathe in, trying to stop my own tears from falling, wondering if whatever May has is contagious, if her incurable sadness is in me as well. “I didn’t want to do it,” I say.
“I know,” he says.
He puts his arm around my shoulder, the way he does with Josephine, and I lean in close and cry into his chest. There’s mud on his jeans and his shirt, and I feel it rubbing on my skin and clothes, but I don’t care. Being this close feels good right now, and part of me hopes he never leaves.
“I barked, David. I barked loud. And I don’t know why I did that. For Louis? For Murray? For this stupid red coat? What is wrong with me?”
“You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do,” he says.
“What does that mean, David?”
“It means that we do what we need to do in order to survive,” he says, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head, like he’s saddened by his own words as well. “You’ve got that red coat and you’ve got to keep it, Elimina. And if that means dealing with cases like May Bennet and barking when you’re told, then you do what you need to do.”
“People probably hate me now,” I say.
“I know you didn’t want to do that.”
“But you’re different, David. What about everyone else?”
“Well, maybe I’m the only one whose opinion should matter,” he says, smiling at me, and I almost manage to smile back.
I stare out into the forest, at the layers of trees and leaves woven together like fabric. I try not to think about May sitting in the courtyard with nothing but a trough of water and scraps of leftovers and a collar around her neck, but I can’t get her face out of my head—those freckles, those teary eyes. A kid who misses her family.
“May will be fine, Elimina,” he says, like he can tell what’s on my mind.
“Will she though? Will she be fine?” I say, turning to him.
“You can’t make life easier for her, Elimina. There are rules.”
“I’m so sick of the rules. There are so many rules, David. And I hate them all.”
“I know. But we have to survive. Surviving is the only thing I think about. Surviving means paying off my debt so I can get away from these rules once and for all. And sometimes that means following rules I don’t like. You think I like that I have to sneak out to see my sister, that I’m not supposed to see her at all? You think I don’t want to hug her every time I see her? But I don’t. Because graduating from Livingstone means doing things we don’t want to do, so we can get out.”
“But what happens then? I mean, where do we even go when we get out, when we pay our debts?”
He shrugs. “There are places we can go. Places just for us. That’s what our parents told us.”
“Have you ever met someone who’s done it, who got out and went there?”
“I try to just focus on what’s next,” he says, and I nod, leaning my head against his shoulder, letting him pull me close.
“Do you really think she’ll be okay?”
“If she can’t make it here, then she really won’t make it with a Mainland employer,” David says. “You’re helping her survive, Elimina. May is going to have to find a way to get working. It’s not easy going back. People aren’t the same.”
He takes my unmarked hand in his and smiles down at it, and I wonder if seeing it gives him hope, if it reminds him of what Redemption Freedom might look like, or if it makes him feel sorry for me because I’m alone.
“What if we let her come read with us?” I say. “That’s what helped me, and I know it helped Josephine. And you. What if it helped her too?”
“You’re not like May, Elimina.”
“How do you know that?”
“Do you know how Violet and Rowan started meeting with us, how the four of us got together?”
I shake my head because they have never shared the whole story.
“Violet saw Josephine sneaking out, just like you did. And she followed her, just like you—probably hoping it would get her that very red coat you’re wearing. And Rowan. He’s always been a wanderer. Up late training. Preparing for matches. Sitting in the stalls, sulking after a loss. I think he used to come and sit with the animals for comfort. Fact is, we all went looking for something. We all broke the rules for something, not knowing what we’d find.”
“But—”
“Elimina,” he says, squeezing my hand. “You are not like Louis or Murray. This is not your fault. And you can’t save May by giving her what you got because she’s not you.”
He lifts his hand and moves a strand of hair off my face, smiling at me in a way that seems both sad and happy, a look I don’t understand.
“You’re special in ways you don’t know, Elimina,” he says.
I lean into him as the sky turns pink, thinking about those words and the look on his face and the feel of his arm around me.
10
JOSEPHINE AND I ARRIVE AT THE FIELDHOUSE ON A NIGHT when the blackness of the sky swallows the moon so that all that’s left is a thin sliver of light. We make our way down the halls and find David staring into the lamps and Rowan lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, while Violet talks loudly.
“All I do is laundry. It’s never-ending,” Violet says.
The boys smile when we arrive, but I don’t smile back. I just slide down next to David quietly.
“It’s exhausting and sweaty and steamy. And boring. It’s so unbelievably boring.”
Violet has been working in housekeeping for three weeks, after Miss Templeton informed her that it was time to “diversify her skill set.” Miss Templeton had tried to move her two months after I arrived, but I begged her to let Violet stay longer, claiming I needed the help. I thought that maybe if she got to know me better, if we worked together long enough, things would change. But the longer I was there and the more Miss Templeton or one of the Decos praised me, the meaner Violet got.
“For god’s sake, Elimina, who the hell taught you to write? Is this supposed to be a F?” she yelled in earshot of Miss Templeton after one of the Decos complimented my work. And in that moment, somehow I knew that Violet would hate me no matter what I did or didn’t do for her.
So when Miss Templeton asked me again, a few months later, if I would be okay on my own, I told her I could easily manage, and the next day Violet was gone. Now Josephine lived with her daily complaining, while I lived only with the regret that I didn’t send her away when I first had the chance.
“Elimina, are you okay?” David says. “You look—”
“You look awful,” Rowan says.
“I . . .”
“Elimina?” Josephine says.
“I—”
“For goodness’ sake, say something!” Violet says, annoyed at having lost their attention.
“You’re . . . graduating,” I say, head down. “Violet, David and Louis are going to the employer fair next week. Mr. Gregors asked me to come and help.”
Violet stares at Rowan while Josephine turns to David. He tries to pull her close, but she holds her hand up to stop him.
“Just David?” Josephine says. “Not me?”
I bite my lip, remembering the promise I made to her in the stairwell the night I followed her to the Fieldhouse because I desperately wanted a friend.
“We came at the same time,” Josephine says, her eyes glassy and wet. “We have the same age on paper. Why don’t they
take me too?”
“I thought you had to be sixteen,” Violet says. “I’m not sixteen. I won’t be sixteen for a few months.”
“You know how it is—how it goes with money and Mainlanders. They send kids whenever they want, whenever there’s a need, or whenever an employer with deep pockets asks,” Rowan says, but I can hear in his voice that this is hard for him as well.
“Is that why they sent me to housekeeping?” Violet says. “Because they’re looking for housekeepers? Is that what Mr. Gregors expects me to do?”
“It’s good to have more experience, Violet,” Rowan says, trying to reassure her. “It’s good to be able to do more things. Mr. Gregors was probably just—”
“Do you know how to fold sheets and clean toilets, Rowan?”
“You’re going to have to work like the rest of us at some point,” Josephine says, her tone sharp and angry. “No one’s going to hire you to do the kind of work you’re doing in Mr. Gregors’s office.”
“Oh really, Josephine! What do you know about that?” Violet says. “You’ve never even been to an employer fair.”
“Violet, please,” David says.
“Don’t, David,” Violet says, pointing at him. “Don’t use your please-calm-down voice on me. I’ve been at an academy longer than all of you. And while Rowan gets to travel around, throwing punches and meeting important people, I’ve had to work. My parents didn’t sign me up for an academy. They aren’t waiting for me and hoping for me. My dad was a drunk and my mom was just a shell of a person. My sister left me with them, and it was horrible. I had to find my own way. I’ve had to fight for everything, and I will not do crappy work for crappy pay. I will not spend my life being miserable and unhappy.”
“Violet, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . .” David begins, but Violet just shakes her head and turns away so it’s clear she hates the pity on his face just as much as his calm-down voice.
“I want to be done with this debt. I want to pay it off as fast as possible. And that’s not going to happen cleaning houses. I shouldn’t have to do housekeeping if I can do things that make more money, and I don’t care if that bothers you, Josephine. I really don’t care what any of you think of me.”
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