by Cody Wagner
Wolcott walked back to the front of the stage and sat down, his legs hanging over the edge. “And now I’d like to talk to you about what to do if we are visited.”
I gripped my chair. Students all around shifted uncomfortably.
Wolcott brushed off his slacks with his hands. “I know it’s scary, but the situation could happen, and you need to be prepared.”
At that, he held up a pamphlet lying next to him. “Every student will be receiving our marketing brochure. I encourage all of you to memorize our mission statement, core values, and processes. The more cohesive we come across, the better.”
He lowered the brochure. “Additionally, campus rules will be tightened if we’re visited. Curfews will be set at dusk, cafeteria seating will be boy-girl-boy-girl, and all conversation will revolve around academia and healing. And by healing, I mean I expect everyone here to behave normally. While dancing around and doing cartwheels in the name of healing is fun, it won’t fool Senator Joseph. Trust me on that.”
Wolcott pushed himself up and held open his hands. “Lastly, I want to create an open communication policy.” He gestured at the teachers again. “Our doors will be open all day, and we’ll be reachable by phone twenty-four seven. If you need to talk about anything, please see us. And if you suspect anything or come across anything . . . unusual . . . please notify us immediately. Even if it seems like nothing. Additionally, you have the school’s permission to monitor YouTube and other online sources.” He flashed a tiny smile. “Just don’t abuse it during class.”
Wolcott was trying to end on a lighter note. A few students smiled along with him, but I didn’t think anything would have cheered me up. Sloths could have parachuted in—in extreme slow motion—and it wouldn’t have improved my mood.
After some closing words, Cassie, Roze, and I walked halfway back to the Classroom Center in silence. I’m sure each of us had a million thoughts running in a million directions. The stuff going through my head was either Siren-ridden or Timothy-driven.
That weird guilt flooded me again and I shook my head, telling myself I didn’t know where it came from. But that was crap. I totally understood the guilt. I’d already refused to come out as the Seeker, and I hadn’t even told Roze or Cassie about the locket. My brain would only allow me to slack off so much. Adding Timothy into the mix was too much. Given the amount of danger Sanctuary faced, the idea of me fawning over him suddenly seemed ridiculous. The entire school could crumple around me, and I knew it. Talk about selfish. It was time I focused back on the Siren.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Roze said.
“Oh,” I said, shrugging, “I was just running Senator Joseph’s speech through my head.”
“When do you think they’ll be here?” Roze asked.
“I don’t know. Soon.” I was glad she cut to the chase and spoke about when and not if.
“Was there anything hidden in the speech?” Roze said. “It seemed pretty straight-forward to me.”
Cassie, who had been staring at the ground, looked at us. “It was extremely manipulative.”
“Huh?” I said.
Cassie’s demeanor switched into her more forceful debate mode. “For one, he tried to sound accommodating by saying he’d only enter schools with permission.”
Roze nodded. “Ahhhh.”
I shook my head. “You’re going to have to say more.”
“His purpose behind that was to sound like the good guy,” Cassie said. “Like he would do everything ethically. And only with permission. But tell me this: what if a school refused to let him in?”
I stopped. “Oh damn. They’d already look guilty.”
“Like they’re hiding something,” Roze added.
“Yes,” Cassie said. “A school can’t say no to this. But Senator Joseph made it sound completely optional.”
We walked a bit farther when Roze said, “I used to wonder if he was under control. But I don’t think so, anymore.”
I stared at her, trying to make my voice casual. “Why?”
“He’s too . . . I don’t know . . . alive? Like it or not, he’s smart. Zimmerman’s Zealots last year were zombies. They barely talked when the Siren controlled them.”
We approached the Classroom Center and stopped in front of the doors. I let a few people by, and we scooted over to finish our conversation.
“I don’t know,” I said, looking at Cassie.
She jumped in, saying, “Didn’t Tracey speak last year when she tried to hurt Jimmy?”
I nodded.
“But she didn’t say much, right?” Roze said.
“We were busy fighting,” I said. “Maybe she would have said more otherwise.”
There. My statement was committal and non-committal at the same time. I couldn’t tell them Senator Joseph was under control, but they needed to think he might be. That way they could still help with ideas, which led to my next statement.
“Is there anything we can do if he is under control?”
“Tell the school?” Roze said.
Cassie shook her head. “I’m sure they already suspect.”
“True,” Roze said. “Then why aren’t they doing anything?”
I shook my head. Sanctuary had to suspect Senator Joseph. I just wasn’t sure they could do anything. Not until the Zealots showed up. That’s when everything would hit the fan.
We all shrugged at each other, and Roze suddenly yelled as if letting out months of frustration. A few students looked at her, and she glared as if challenging them to make fun. Normally, I would have blushed, but I was so used to it by now I almost joined in.
“We just have to monitor everything and look for clues,” Cassie said.
As we walked into the Classroom Center, I thought about what I needed to do. It was time to forget about my social life and get down to business.
That’s when, as stupid fate would have it, I caught sight of Timothy. Worse, he waved me over.
There weren’t any butterflies this time. Instead, the strange guilt flooded into me, and I responded by pretending I hadn’t seen him and turned to Roze as if she’d just yelled my name.
Suddenly, Cassie’s phone began to ring. She pulled it out, looked at the screen, and covered her mouth with her other hand.
“Your mom?” I rolled my eyes. Mrs. Cooke was the last thing we needed right now.
“No,” Cassie said. “It’s your mom.”
I nodded sympathetically until her words sang in. Then I yelped, “My mom?!”
Before I could tell Cassie to let it go to voicemail, she answered. “Hello . . . Oh hi, Mrs. Trales. Blaize . . .”
I waved my hands in front of her face and whispered, “I’m not here!”
“Yes, he’s right here,” Cassie said.
I gave her my betrayed face, and she whispered, “Get it over with.”
I took a huge breath before grabbing the phone. “Hello?”
Roze reached out and hit the speaker phone button, and we crowded around it to drown out students walking by.
“Blaize, how are you, honey?”
“I’m fine. And you?”
“I’m adequate. Did you just witness the news?”
I tensed up, wondering what to tell her. Cassie shook her head, so I said, “No, what’s up?”
“Apparently, some of your . . . types of locations . . . are under investigation. Senator Joseph thinks they might be fraudulent.”
I tried not to sound nervous. “Really? In what way?”
“He believes some places are encouraging students to lead an . . . evil . . . lifestyle.”
“Oh.”
When I didn’t say anything else, Mom said, “He wants to make sure places like Sanctuary Preparatory Academy actually do what they promise. He’s going to be visiting locations around the country.” She paused for a second before blurting, “I commend him for it. Parents are spending their hard-earned dollars to make their children better.”
I could feel my cheeks heating but decided to keep playi
ng dumb. “What does that have to do with me?”
“Well, honey. I’ve been reading online. And I found an article saying he’s visiting the most likely culprits first.”
I looked at Cassie, who bit her upper lip and looked at the ground.
“OK?” I said.
After another pause, she said, “I’ll just cut to the chase. We’re worried to death your school might be first.”
Now it was time to defend myself. “Why are you worried? You’ve seen all my reports and stuff. I’m getting everything I need here. And more. You’ve seen how serious the school takes our healing.”
Roze pointed at herself, and I added, “Also, Roze is here. And I’d miss her.”
Mom paused again. I could hear her breathing deep, which meant she was debating her next words. “That’s all well and good, honey. But we don’t want to worry about what’s really going on there. And if Sanctuary is on Senator Joseph’s early list, we’d never rest easy with your being so far away.”
My teeth began chattering as I said, “Meaning?”
“If Sanctuary is visited soon, your father and I think it would be best if we moved you somewhere else.”
I gripped the phone so tight, I worried it might break. “How do you know somewhere else will be any better?”
“Stop being difficult, Blaize. If you’re really wanting to heal, don’t you want to be at a dependable location?”
Scarily, she was right. I’d claimed to want healing here at Sanctuary. I couldn’t just change my tune.
Roze gestured at me and I realized I hadn’t responded. I didn’t know what else to say, so I simply blurted, “OK.”
“Honestly,” she said, switching to a happier voice, “I don’t think we have anything to worry about. Sanctuary has been just wonderful.”
It felt like a bowling ball was sinking into my stomach. This was bad. Still, I managed to mumble, “I agree,” before we said our goodbyes.
After hanging up, Cassie, Roze, and I just stared at each other.
“What do we do?” Roze said.
Cassie blinked back tears. “What can we do?”
“Talk to Principal Wolcott about your mom, Blaize?” Roze said.
“I don’t think that will work,” Cassie said. “They’ll have their hands full dealing with Senator Joseph. Besides, how many other parents are probably threatening to remove their kids?”
“God, I didn’t even think of that.” Roze peeked at Cassie’s phone as if expecting a call from her own parents.
Seeing them crestfallen, a decision hit me. A huge one. If Senator Joseph visited and things got crazy, I’d out myself to the school as the Seeker. If I couldn’t save myself, at least I could save the rest of the students. It was the least I could do. And the school wouldn’t let me leave if they knew of my power.
Feeling suddenly protective of my friends, I squared my shoulders and said, “We can’t focus on what-ifs. We just have to go to class, spend as much time together, research, and deal with things as they come.”
The words were kinda hollow, but Cassie and Roze agreed. Then, we entered the building and proceeded to our classes. I held my head up high as I walked, but I blinked about a hundred times more than normal. It was the only way I could keep from crying. In the back of my head, I knew Sanctuary would be Senator Joseph’s first selection. And one way or another, I was screwed.
Eleven
Decent Human Lessons
I expected Sanctuary to appear on TV within minutes of Senator Joseph’s announcement, with giant blinking pink arrows pointing at the school. But we didn’t. Neither did any other healing location. Instead, we were subjected to radio silence through the rest of our classes and dinner. It should have made me feel better. I mean, every second of delay was one more I got to spend at Sanctuary. But I couldn’t stop panicking. Someone accidentally dropped a tater tot on my back at dinner, and I about flew under the table, like it was Senator Joseph tapping me on the shoulder.
I wanted distractions, so I made Cassie skip breakfast and walk with me to the Classroom Center the following morning. We pushed right up against each other as we went. It’s like we were letting secret invisible satellites know that maybe, just maybe, we were a straight couple. I even debated grabbing her hand.
We weren’t the only ones.
The students took Wolcott’s words to heart. I’d once heard the phrase “leave room for Jesus” about middle school dances. That meant dancers couldn’t get too close to each other and risk becoming overwhelmed with “naughty” thoughts. Well, the gay couples at Sanctuary left room for an entire basketball team between them.
Cassie gestured at two girls from my English class who had been dating since the middle of last year. They walked so far apart, I could hear them shouting just to hear each other:
“So, friend.”
“Yes, friend?”
“I hope you have a good, straight day.”
“You too, friend. Be straight.”
Cassie politely tapped me on the shoulder and pointed the other way. I turned to see two guys accidentally holding hands. Suddenly, they realized what they were doing and tore apart from each other. Their faces turned bright red. I knew exactly what they were thinking: What if someone saw and we brought down the school?
Without another word, they joined a group of people arranged boy-girl-boy-girl. It looked like the school pamphlet I saw when I thought the school was legitimately homophobic. I shook my head, hoping this wouldn’t last long. Watching the students act like this made Sanctuary feel like a real healing camp. Then I chided myself. Of course I wanted our act to last awhile. If it did, that meant Sanctuary was still safe.
But I knew it was only a matter of time until we were visited. So did Cassie.
“How long do you give us?” she asked.
I looked at a guy and girl, their arms interlocked like they were walking down a wedding aisle. “Honestly? I’m surprised it didn’t happen yesterday.”
I think the teachers were surprised, too. Anytime someone dropped a pen or coughed or made an unexpected noise, they looked out the window, expecting an armored car to pull in. In Chemistry, Ms. Dewey—a squat little woman with fake red hair—actually screamed when some guy’s phone started ringing and his ring tone resembled the school’s emergency bell. After we all calmed down (one girl bolted for the door), Ms. Dewey stood over him and watched as he changed his ring tone to wind chimes.
By the time I got to play rehearsal that night, my nerves were on fire. Not only was I dreading a potential Senator Joseph visit, I’d decided to quit the play. Focusing on the Siren felt like a better way to honor Jimmy.
I noticed Timothy wasn’t super talkative with anyone when I arrived. At first, I wondered if he somehow suspected my plan. But then he walked up to me before I could vanish into Ms. Burton’s office and resign.
He gave me a tiny smile, and my insides clenched up like they’d been stuffed into a sardine can. Again, I felt guilt invading me.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” It was all I could muster. Getting our banter going wouldn’t make my decision any easier.
Timothy puffed out his chest. “Ready to be straight for a while?”
“I was born straight.” I blushed as what I’d said sank in.
Timothy actually laughed.
I stared at him, my heart shooting into my throat. Every time he laughed, I liked him even more, which, strangely, make me feel even guiltier.
I almost made a joke but stopped myself. No leading him on. Or myself. This was for the best. And it let me focus on what was important. Still, despite the guilt, I became incredibly sad and just gave him a tiny, noncommittal smile.
And with that, he went and sat with the cast while I secretly bolted into Ms. Burton’s office, quit the play, and ran back to my room, hugging myself the entire way.
As I climbed into bed, I thought I would feel better. After all, I was focusing on what really mattered. But while the guilt had subsided, I almost felt
worse. A tiny ball in the middle of my stomach started pulsating. I inadvertently rubbed at it as I thought about how Timothy would feel when he learned I quit the play. Would he be sad? Angry? Confused? None of those options improved my mood, and I found myself taking deep breaths until finally nodding off around 2:00AM.
The next day went about the same as the previous: lots of tension, students trying their best to be straight, everyone freaking out at the tiniest sounds, and me avoiding all the routes I knew Timothy took.
That’s how the day after that went, too.
And the day after that.
By Friday, we still hadn’t heard a word from Senator Joseph.
“What is going on?” I asked Roze and Cassie at lunch.
Roze hurled a tater tot onto her plate. “If they’re gonna do it, just do it.”
“What!?” I said. “No!”
“I’m not serious,” she said. “It’s just frustrating!”
“At least it’s giving us more time to practice,” Cassie said.
She was trying to be positive, but Cassie was jittery, too. It didn’t help that she’d had a particularly bad call with Mrs. Cooke the night before. Apparently, her adoptive mom was coming to stay for two days over Christmas. Cassie said the Senator Joseph thing had prompted the decision, which made me hate him even more.
I glanced over at the staff table. Only four teachers sat there—including Coach Adkins—and I noticed they were situated boy-girl-boy-girl. Seeing adults following the same rules as us kinda weirded me out. But it was all necessary.
“This sucks,” I said.
“It’s not so bad.”
All three of us turned to see Tracey holding her food tray, smiling.
She didn’t flinch at all when we gaped at her, but she added, “It’s taken the focus off . . . other things.”
And with that, she started munching away on a Salvation Salad.
I wasn’t sure what to think. In a way, I guess Tracey was right. With everything going on, she hadn’t been picked on as much. But something about her statement felt gross.
“That is so incredibly selfish.”
We all looked at Cassie, whose eyes were on fire.