by Joanna Wiebe
“To use deceit, ruthlessness, and dishonesty to get ahead,” Pilot says, reciting his PT. “Very Machiavellian. My father is so proud. Wrap your true intents in a fluffy white cloud of nobility, and nobody, not even you, with your I’m-looking-closer PT, will question it. Add to that a sob story about your dad being disappointed? You’ve got the makings of a successful life.”
“A successful life under the mentorship of Mephistopheles!” I fire.
“Mr. Stone has a bright future in politics,” Villicus says. “What better mentor than I?”
Together, Pilot and Villicus snort out a few laughs. Gritting my teeth as I watch, I make a pact to myself. To beat them at their own game. Whatever it takes.
“Explain how Miss Merchant fits into your PT, boy,” Villicus commands.
“Easy,” I interrupt. “Our entire friendship was a lie.”
“There’s a little more to it than that.”
Pilot explains how, since arriving here last year, he’s been publicly lying about having no PT in order to give himself a competitive edge—to trick everyone into revealing their PTs so he could use those against them.
“Like a snake in the grass,” I spit.
“Like a successful politician. Don’t take it personally, Annie.”
“Why me? Why befriend me and turn on me? You could’ve done that to anyone.”
A blush washes his face, bringing a bashful grin with it. “Honestly? You started out as a favor to Harper.”
“Harper?”
“Before you came here, Villicus told everyone about you so we’d know you to see you. You were someone we had to keep a secret from, until the day you finally croaked, which…?” He looks from me to Villicus, who shakes his head, confirming that I am still alive in California. Pilot rolls his eyes, as if my coma is so annoying. “So we knew your story. We knew about the art shows you had.”
“Ha! There were no art shows!” I say, throwing what little I can in his face. “That was a lie my dad told to get me in here.”
He and Villicus exchange another glance.
“You were in a coma for two years, Annie. A gifted art prodigy who might die any second? Art investors ate that up. Like any artist, you’re worth more dead than alive. There were art shows. A half-dozen. Your piss-broke old man needed the cash to keep you in the hospital.”
I cringe at how lightly they throw around life and death.
“Knowing that, Harper saw you as her biggest threat. The first day she saw you slutted-up in your little uniform, she thought you might join her clique, where she could destroy you slowly like Plum and the others.” He smiles wistfully. “Then I told her your PT, and she realized you’d be no good in her group. So she told me if I could just keep you out of the running for the Big V—which she thought I was out of, too—she’d keep me in constant…Well, let’s say I don’t have to worry about dying a virgin.”
“You lied to me so you could get with Harper?”
“I lied to you for my PT. Harper was just a perk.”
How I’ve failed at my own PT. Why did I blindly accept his friendship? The only other “friends” at Cania are the members of the Model UN from Hell. Yet I believed Pilot and I were friends. Stupidly, foolishly believed it.
“So every time we skipped class together,” I continue. “And every time you said you hated what the competition was doing. And every time—”
“Lies,” Pilot says, cutting me off. “All lies. So many you don’t even know about.” Sucking his cheek, he gives it some thought. “Oh, you thought I came here after I died trying to rescue a girl from a fire, right?”
A shiver runs down my spine.
“Not so. I set her house on fire while she slept. She thought she was so hot. Never looked at me once at school. But that night, when I stood in her bedroom with the flames I’d set all around us, she saw me then.” He smiles at the memory before noticing my expression. “Come on, don’t act like you’re new to the world of deceit.”
“Me?”
“You led me on. And then I saw you with Zin on the beach tonight.”
“That’s hardly comparable.”
“Since you bring up the topic of Mr. Zin,” Villicus interjects. He tosses a vial at Pilot, who catches it and turns it over, reading the label.
Pilot groans. “I’ve always hated that name. Ebenezer.”
Ebenezer? It’s Ben’s vial?
Then, out of nowhere, another vial is flying—this one in my direction. Fumbling, I nearly drop it. Just before it hits the flames, I close my fist around it. Turn it over. Read it.
“Pilot Aaron Stone,” I whisper.
“Now then,” Villicus says, curling his lips into a snarl, “it’s time the two of you sorted out an exchange.”
Pilot glances up, his eyes suddenly watering. How quickly his emotions have changed.
I, on the other hand, feel like I’ve finally got a shot at this game. I know what cards are on the table. That puts me light-years ahead of where I’ve been since arriving on Wormwood. If I’ve survived this long in the dark, surely I can do that much better now that I know what’s up.
“This is your chance to shine, Mr. Stone,” Villicus says.
“Why not her vial?” Pilot asks, looking confused. “Why his?”
“The girl wants her vial destroyed. But she’d be heartbroken if Mr. Zin were to vanish from the earth. And you, of course, want yours.”
“Let’s talk this out,” Pilot says, relaxing his tone as he turns to me. I see the old Pilot in his expression, as if he, like Mephistopheles, has masks he can put on and take off at will. “I know what you must be thinking, but if you throw my vial in the fire, Annie, you’ll kill me. And I’ll have no choice but to kill Ben, too.”
“If you’re fast enough.” The audacity he has, trying to manipulate me again, to prey on my emotions.
“I don’t think you could live with my blood on your hands.”
“My mother almost killed me,” I retort coldly, ignoring the flash of pain that splits my forehead at the thought of her. “I can live with a lot. And, Mephistopheles,” I turn to Villicus, “I don’t care about Ben’s vial. I only care about mine.”
That shuts Pilot up. Villicus looks impressed.
“Perhaps selfishness would have been a fine PT for you,” Villicus says.
Pilot searches my face—a poker face that would thrill Molly—and then Villicus’s, looking for a hint if not an answer to the dilemma he’s been placed in. My only prayer is that I figure out what to do before they figure out I’m bluffing.
“Let’s just do a pure exchange,” Pilot suggests. “On the count of three, we hand each other the vials and be done with it.”
“I already told you,” I say, “I don’t want Ben’s vial.”
“So I could throw it in the fire?” Pilot dangles Ben’s vial over the flames.
“You could. But it would leave you empty-handed, which wouldn’t give you much bargaining power. If I were you, I’d stop trying to make an exchange with me and figure out how to get Villicus to give you my vial. That’s the only way you’ll get me to give you yours.”
Glowering, Pilot turns to Villicus, who looks as disappointed in him as he once pretended his own father was.
“Mephistopheles,” Pilot begins, bowing respectfully, “I ask you for the vial of Anne Merchant in exchange for the vial of Ben Zin.”
“He’s never gonna go for that, Pilot,” I interrupt. “You need to give him something of greater value.”
I’m outplaying Pilot, which Villicus doesn’t seem to be missing.
“If you don’t pull up your socks, Mr. Stone,” Villicus says, “I will insist that Miss Merchant expel you promptly.”
“But this little game wasn’t part of our plan, Guardian!” Pilot whines.
It strikes me then that they’re distracted. Villicus is frustrated and growing angry with his supposed prize pupil, and Pilot is wracking his unimpressive mind for a worthy exchange. And here I stand, temporarily forgotten. The door is
just beyond them, and it’s still wide open, thanks to Pilot.
They’re holding Ben’s vial. I’ve got Pilot’s. I don’t have mine—but I know now that I’d rather give Ben his and let him decide his fate than escape so selfishly. And I can use Pilot’s for leverage, if it comes to that. First, I need to get Ben’s vial. To do so, I’ll have to run through the fire to scoop it from Pilot’s hand. Quickly. While they’re distracted.
Without another breath, I go for it.
I dash through the flames. I throw my hand out, and instantly my side is consumed by a hellish blaze that shocks my system. With a loud whomp, the flames ignite my clothes and my hair. Running on adrenaline only, I grab Ben’s vial out of Pilot’s fist.
I leave him and Villicus dumbfounded behind me.
With both vials, I run toward the still-open door. Fast. Faster than my stunned body, now in flames, can comprehend. I am a human torch, racing to the doorway in three long strides. Bursting into the dark night, into what has become a torrential hailstorm with buckets of rain that douse my clothes and hair. I glance at the vials in my fists. They’re still intact. My skin, though, is bright red.
“Help me!” I scream as smoke pours off me. The dorms are filled with parents. Surely one will hear me and help. Or the Coast Guard! They were around here hours ago. “Somebody help!”
I zoom like a bat out of Hell. I should run to Ben’s, give him his vial. But Pilot is after me, racing and screaming at me. If I change direction, if I even look back, I’ll be caught.
“Help!”
With everything in me, I claw at the air as if that might pull me forward. My feet slide over the slick grass. But miraculously, I stay upright. I bolt across the quad and behind Goethe Hall. The cliffside comes into view. My heart pounds furiously. My voice is gone. My head can’t keep up with what’s happened—with the cold vials in my hands and the heat on my skin—so I go on autopilot, blasting through the parking lot, blasting forward and up. Up. Through the brush that tries to hold me back. Up. To the top of the cliff.
With a quick glance over my shoulder, I see the lights in a half-dozen distant dorm rooms. Silhouettes stand at the windows. And, in the second I look, I see them, one by one, draw the shades.
No one will help me. Not against the likes of Villicus. Not when he holds such power.
Turning back to the hill, I almost lose my footing when I catch a shadow racing, slithering by at lightning speed. Pushing harder, I grunt to force myself up the hill, knowing Mephistopheles will be waiting for me.
I burst into the rocky clearing.
Whirling, I spy Hiltop. She’s replaced Villicus, who is just one of Mephistopheles’s characters, the one that could reasonably pass as a headmaster. Hiltop is perched at the edge of the cliff, standing motionlessly, hands folded, watching me like a bird of prey waiting for its catch to expire. Behind her, the infinite waters are gray, vast, furious, and filling with ice.
“Nothing good will come of this,” she calls to me. “I still have your vial back at Valedictorian Hall. Come with me, Anne, and we’ll make a small exchange for it.”
Before I can respond, someone shoves me from behind. I collapse, nearly dropping both vials. I rush away and, holding the vials to my chest, look up through the sleet at Pilot. My eyes flick between an unflinching, deceptively normal Hiltop and a scarlet-faced, infuriated Pilot.
“You bitch!” he bellows, his face distorting in his rage, thick rain flooding it in unholy streams until he’s unrecognizable. “Give me my vial now!”
But before I can holler back at him, he flies at me. With a shriek, I roll away, barely escaping him. I land within feet of Hiltop. My scream fills the air at exactly the same time Ben, soaking wet, appearing from nowhere, sees Hiltop standing over me, and hurls his body at her. The two wrestle and tumble to the cliff’s edge, tearing at each other as I scream Ben’s name. Without a moment to spare, Ben catches a thick, exposed tree root and clings to it. Hiltop slides soundlessly by him, over the cliff’s edge, and out of sight.
I scramble to my feet.
I back away from Pilot, who’s lumbering toward me. His eyes bulge as he homes in on the vials I hold.
“Give me…my vial.”
I stumble over a loose branch at my feet and, livid, grab it quickly, swinging it at him. “Stay back!”
“Give it to me,” Pilot snarls. He doesn’t care about the branch or the pain it could inflict. He’s invincible. The only way to hurt him is to destroy him. “Annie, you know the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”
“The last thing?” I repeat, rain washing my face. “It still made your list.”
At once, Ben’s at my side. Running entirely on willpower has left me so jerky, I nearly fly out of my skin when he wraps his arm around me. As he takes the branch and swipes it boldly, powerfully at Pilot, my exhausted body collapses against him.
“Stay back, Pilot,” he bellows over a thunderclap.
“This has nothing to do with you, Zin,” Pilot fires, shirking away but stealthily, on guard, continuing to close the distance. “I just want what’s mine—my life!”
When Pilot lurches at him, Ben brings the heavy branch down on his shoulder, sending him reeling back. We watch Pilot collapse to the ground, where he writhes in pain.
“I’ve got his vial,” I explain feebly to Ben.
“What are you planning to do with it?” he asks me.
Shaking my head, I feel my throat choke up. I clench my jaw, but there’s no stopping the tears. “All this time, Pilot was lying.”
Ben holds me closer. “I know. I saw his PT. Why do you think I hated him so much?”
Feeling myself growing fainter every moment—and loathing myself for it—I look into Ben’s eyes and add, with a small smile, “I’ve got yours, too. It’s your chance to escape.” The shiny silver label is soaking wet on his vial as I hold it up to him. Ebenezer Joshua Zin. “I’m going to stay on Wormwood. My dad will work for Villicus. And, Ben, if you want to join Jeannie, this is your chance to do it. To free yourself.”
“And leave you now that I’ve found you?” Ben smiles sadly. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me. You still have a real life to lead. Your dad deserves to have you with him.”
Before I can argue, with a grand whoosh, Hiltop swoops over the mountainside, over the cliff. She comes crashing down to the earth with a tremendous rumble. Behind her, Pilot gets to his knees and slowly to his feet.
With a gasp, I stagger back; Ben keeps me stable, but barely.
In one unnaturally fast move, Hiltop plucks Ben’s vial from between my fingers. I cry out, but Ben doesn’t even flinch. I search his face urgently as Hiltop backs away and smiles. I know that the only leverage we have now is Pilot’s vial, but that doesn’t feel like enough. Just as I’m about to offer anything Hiltop wants in exchange for Ben’s vial, Ben shakes his head softly at me. He’s anticipated my next move, but he won’t let me sacrifice myself for him.
“Are you ready to go, love?” he asks me.
That word, love. Could he mean it? If we’d had a chance, even a small chance to be together, would there have been a future for us?
“No. I’ll stay.”
I need to stay with Ben as long as I can. Even if it means living under the cruel tyranny of Villicus. Even if I can feel myself fading. Even if, every time I blink, I wonder if I’m not about to open my eyes in that hospital room again.
“Just give me my vial, Zin,” Pilot stammers furiously. “And Hiltop will give you yours.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Ben pulls me into the warmth of his body, shielding me, and turns to Pilot and Hiltop, who are both uncomfortably close. I can hear Pilot’s heaving breaths, smell Hiltop’s rancid odor even in the rain. Bit by bit, Ben inches us away, through the sleet, to the cliffside. “I’m going to stay here, and Anne’s going to go back to the life she deserves.”
“To free her, you’d need to destroy her vial, Zin,” Hiltop reminds him. “Are you planning on running bac
k to the hall?”
When we’re just at the edge of the cliff, when my back is to the water, when I’m forced to stand on my tiptoes to keep from tumbling into the hungry, howling waters, Ben reaches into his jacket with his free hand and pulls out a single vial. I make out its label: Anne Elizabeth Merchant.
“When you all raced out of Valedictorian Hall,” Ben says, with the smallest hint of that crinkle-nosed grin I love, “you forgot to lock up.”
Ben has my vial. I have Pilot’s.
Hiltop has Ben’s. She locks her gaze on mine and, knowing what’s about to happen, mouths to me, “You’ll be ba-ack.”
And then it all happens in a blink. Ben wraps me in his arms, holds me against his chest, and leaps with all his might into the air. The ground disappears from under our feet. With that, Ben and I are soaring, flying, leaving Wormwood Island behind. Ben will return, but I won’t. Not the way Hiltop wants me to.
We leave Pilot behind. He watches in horror, waiting for his vial to hit the water just as I’m waiting for mine to hit, for his second life to end just as mine will. I have somewhere to wake; I have no idea what will become of his spirit once his vivified body is destroyed.
We leave Hiltop behind. She’ll still have Ben and Dr. Zin, but she’s just lost me and my father. With a piercing cry, knowing she’s been outsmarted, she raises her leg and sends it crashing into the cliff, splitting the thick rock in two. She disappears into the gash, returning to where she came from.
And Ben and I? We fall, fall, fall blissfully toward the water.
Everything slows. The spinning of the world. The rushing of the sleet and hail. The crashing of the waves. There’s nothing more than Ben and me. In spite of everything, I’m smiling. So is he. But as slowly as time is moving, there’s not a spare moment to talk, to say everything I need to say as I feel this temporary body of mine fade the further we drop. Soon, I’ll be gone. When I wake in California, it will be for good this time. I’ll have left Ben behind to continue a life he hates, and I’ll have to trust that it was the right decision—at least until I can find a better way. Alive and awake in California, I’ll be able to do more than I can dead and trapped at Cania.