Zanna nodded. “Sorry, I got distracted.”
“I was just asking what Dr. Mumble wanted with you today,” Nora asked. “Was it registration?”
“Oh, that. Yeah.” Zanna opened the little tin of applesauce Pops had packed for her, but she stopped before the spoon reached her mouth. “I met the president,” she said, giggling at how it had slipped her mind. “I completely forgot about that.”
“Like, you actually got to talk to him?” Libby asked. “Lucky. He was here yesterday, but all we got to do was walk past him and get waved at. Lame.”
“Is he one of us?” Zanna asked. “I mean . . . is he a Scientist?”
Nora shook her head emphatically. “We haven’t had a Scientist president since Pierce. But they all know about us. All the world leaders do.”
“Isn’t that—” Libby searched for the right phrasing. “Kind of against the whole secrecy thing y’all got going on?”
“Not at all,” Nora said. “We’ve tried being absolutely secret before, and the CGs always find out, one way or another. So instead, we tell the CG leaders about our abilities, register as a token of good faith, and share ambassadors just like any foreign country. In return, they don’t look too closely if someone catches a flying Scientist on radar.”
Zanna let her gaze drift over the wondrous lawn, still not entirely believing her eyes. There was a solitary figure on a bench near the entrance to the gardens, and she looked closer. It was Cedwick. He had his legs tucked up and his lunch in his lap and was completely alone. She frowned. On one hand, Zanna was glad to finally be rid of him—the boy had dogged her through all her classes that morning, popping up over her shoulder every time they split into small groups. On the other hand, Zanna knew what it was like to eat lunch alone.
“You going to ask him out?” Libby asked suddenly.
Zanna spun around so hard she nearly made herself dizzy. “What?”
Libby indicated Cedwick with a flick of her gaze. “He likes you. That’s why he’s been bothering you.”
“Really?” Zanna scrunched up her nose. “Boys actually do that?”
“Oh, yeah,” Libby said with a knowing expression. “The clever ones are better at hiding it, though. So what do you think?”
Zanna stole another glance at Cedwick. She understood dating in the same way she understood skydiving. People did it, but its appeal was completely lost on her. “I doubt it.”
Libby shoved a whole chocolate cookie into her mouth. “Shame,” she said with a gleam in her eye. “I think you’d be cute together.”
There was one class left after lunch, and that was Self. After Nora’s brief explanation of Self that morning, Zanna was brimming over with questions of what the class would be like. But when the girls stepped through the privacy illusion, Zanna saw that her questions would have to wait a bit longer. Standing at the front of the room wasn’t her professor but Mr. Tinders, the spidery secretary from the administrative tower. He looked rather out of place without his desk around him, like a hermit crab without his shell.
“Dr. Trout has been called away on urgent business this afternoon. You may use this time to study. Mrs. Appernathy will be in shortly to make sure you are using this time wisely.”
He vanished. It must have been an illusion, Zanna realized after a startled moment, and she made a note to start recognizing them in the future.
A candelabra floated through the privacy illusion and established itself in the middle of the room, looking over the class with its limbs of flickering candles. Zanna could almost see a scowling face in its flames. “You will use this time for quiet study,” the candelabra said in the voice of a gruff Scottish matron—the same voice of the oil lamps that had led Zanna to her Mathematics classroom that morning. “You will not use this time for socializing. Anyone found acting otherwise will be subject to detention. Clear?”
A half-hearted agreement rose from the students.
Zanna plunked her backpack on a table and took out a notebook. Dr. Piccowitz had assigned them to draw and label the first 82 elements, and Dr. Cheever wanted them to work out how much gravitational force a list of objects—from a mote of dust to a supergiant star—would exert on their body if they stood a foot away from the objects.
“Physics?” Cedwick appeared behind her without a sound, looking over her shoulder at the gravitational functions she was struggling through. “You know, I can show you a shortcut for those gravitational functions. I do know a thing or two.”
Zanna circled her arm around her textbooks, as if Cedwick were trying to copy from her. Any pity she had felt at seeing him eat alone at lunch vanished. “I’m trying to work,” she growled. “Will you please leave me alone?”
He didn’t. Instead, Cedwick sat down, drawing a theoretical object in the shape of a young girl and handing it to her. “It’s so much easier to use theoretical objects than going through all that math. See, all you have to do is put your mass in here—”
“My what?” Zanna snapped, her voice ringing sharply in the nearly silent classroom. She waved her hand in the air. “Mrs. Appernathy!”
A flash of candle flame, and Mrs. Appernathy’s candelabra hovered in front of them. “What’s going on?” it said. “Are you working or socializing?”
“Well, I’m trying to work,” Zanna grumbled, displaying the open book in front of her. “But Cedwick is bothering me.”
Cedwick lifted his chin. “I already finished my homework,” he said, speaking loud enough so the whole class could hear. “So I thought I would help—”
“Detention, Mr. Hemmington,” the candelabra snapped, cutting Cedwick off mid-sentence. “This Saturday for four hours. I was very clear about what this time is to be used for. If you’ve already finished your homework, then sit quietly and let the others work in peace.” The candelabra paused, and for a terrible moment, Zanna thought Mrs. Appernathy was about to give her detention, as well. But instead, the candelabra just let out a disapproving sigh. “Really,” she said. “I expected better of a Hemmington. Come on, back to work. All of you.”
Slowly, Cedwick slunk from Zanna’s desk all the way to an unoccupied table in the far corner. A twinge of regret pinched at her, so Zanna buried herself in gravitational functions and tried to ignore the pointed stares from the other girls for the rest of the period, with only mild success. At the bell she followed the flow of students out into the central courtyard, where Libby and Beatrice caught up with her.
“Well, I guess that settles it,” Libby said, falling into step as they walked toward the buses. “You didn’t have to put him in detention, though.”
Zanna sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to stave off the headache she felt coming on. The prospect of getting back into Mr. Gunney’s bus wasn’t doing anything to settle her stomach, either. “Can we not talk about that?”
“I mean—”
“She doesn’t want to talk about it,” Beatrice said, her small voice surprisingly firm on the point.
Libby backed down. “Easy there, momma bear.” Something outside their small circle caught her eye, and she changed gears at once. “Hey, Nora!” The girl had just emerged from the crowd of students.
“Yes?” Nora asked. Her eyebrow twitched slightly, Zanna noticed, but otherwise, her composure was as unruffled as ever.
Libby jerked a thumb over her shoulder. Amir and a boy from their class named Tyson were trying to climb one of the gnarled olive trees. “I need to ask you. What’s the deal with you and Amir?”
Nora blinked. “I don’t follow.”
“You’re not a thing?” Libby asked, already smoothing down her strawberry-blonde hair and adjusting the bonnet on her head. “Cool. I’m going to go ask him out. Catch y’all tomorrow.”
The three remaining girls stared blankly as she bounced across the courtyard, nearly skipping. “Unbelievable,” Nora muttered, finally processing what ha
d just happened.
“Excuse me? Zanna?”
The posh English voice made her spin around on the spot, ready to tell Cedwick again to leave her alone. But it wasn’t Cedwick this time.
“I’m glad I caught you before you left,” the senior boy said, offering his hand. “My name’s Owin Hemmington. My dad said that you needed someone to put protections around your house?”
He had the same thin blond hair and waxen complexion as his younger brother, but how he carried those noble features was entirely different. Where Cedwick hunched his shoulders, Owin stood upright and confident. On his back was a polished medieval shield.
Beatrice nudged her gently, and Zanna realized she had completely spaced out. “Sorry,” she muttered, blushing fiercely and finally shaking the hand that he had been offering silently for a while. “I’ve—It’s been a long day.”
Owin smiled. “A long couple of days, from what I’ve heard.”
“Yes,” Zanna said. It was a strange experience to talk with Owin after she had spent the day being hounded by his younger brother. They were so similar, and yet Owin managed to pull off the air of a perfect gentleman. “You’re going to protect my house?”
“Put up protections,” Owin corrected her with an easy smile. “Standard Primer procedure. It’ll take about an hour. If you’re all set, I’ll tell Sophie, and we can be on our way.”
“I’m set.” Zanna said a quick goodbye to Nora and Beatrice and then followed Owin to his limousine. He rapped on the glass, and the window rolled down.
“I found her,” he said to the woman behind the wheel, who must have been Sophie. “So I’m taking her home. Shouldn’t be too long. Tell mom I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
Zanna peered past Owin’s shield into the limousine. The seats were upholstered in red velvet and trimmed with brass and gold. She could see just past Sophie’s head and into the cab. A table of dark wood stretched the length of the car, a long sofa running alongside it.
Cedwick was inside.
He looked nothing like he had during school. Fresh tears rimmed his eyes and dotted the collar of his shirt. His tie was loose. Their eyes met, and a seething, aimless thing burned in his gaze as it flicked between her and his older brother, reading the situation instantly. And then Cedwick leaned forward and slid the partition up, disappearing from view.
Owin said a few last things to Sophie and then turned to Zanna, who had stepped back from the limousine. “Are you ready to go?”
She didn’t respond. All her body seemed capable of doing at the moment was watching as the limousine came to life without a sound and lifted into the air, joining the stream of cars and buses and students in the sky. That look Cedwick had given her before shutting himself off in the dark cab hurt like a deep wound.
“Zanna?”
She shook her head. “I’m ready.”
The shield on Owin’s back transformed into a pair of bucket seats, and Owin climbed into one, offering his hand to Zanna. She eyed it warily.
“Are we—flying?”
“I don’t know any other way off of here,” Owin said with a laugh. When Zanna didn’t smile at his joke, his voice softened. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you fall. I promise.”
“I threw up on the bus today.” Somehow it didn’t feel odd at all to confess that to Owin.
“Then I’ll be extra careful,” he said. His hand was still outstretched, and she took it. As she sat down, a band of iron snaked over her lap, holding her firmly in the seat. “If you don’t want the seatbelt, let me know,” he said.
“No, I want it,” Zanna said.
Owin spotted an opening in the overhead traffic, and they began to rise. “Doing all right?” he asked.
Zanna didn’t trust herself to speak, but she nodded, even though her heart was screaming.
“Once we’re clear of this traffic,” he said, “I’ll put an illusion on. The Primers gave me your address. Just a bit more.”
They merged into the exiting traffic, falling in behind a teacher astride a huge bronze horse. As they rose higher, the traffic thinned and spread out. When the sky was clear at last, Owin made a gesture, and everything seemed to disappear. Zanna and Owin were sitting on a park bench in early autumn, watching people go by.
“Better?” Owin asked. “Some people don’t like major illusions like this. Messes with their inner ear. You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Zanna said, and she meant it. “How did you—”
“Make this?” Owin finished her question, sweeping his arm to encompass the entire park scene. “I’m just manipulating the frequency of the light to show different colors. See?”
The leaves rustling along the path changed from orange and brown to deep teal. Owin pointed at a woman walking by, and her coat went from black to lime-green.
“Is something like this difficult to do?” Zanna asked.
Owin laughed, restoring the leaves and the woman’s coat to their original colors. “Well, that depends. How much detail do you want to put in? How much movement is there going to be?”
The park scene looked so real. Zanna put a hand on the wooden bench she was sitting on and told herself that it was actually a medieval shield transformed into a seat and they were soaring over the Atlantic on their way toward Virginia.
“And how difficult is it to make a whole school?” she muttered.
The grin Owin wore faded a little. “You’re thinking about what happened yesterday, aren’t you?” he said. “Don’t worry. I know all of this seems rather new and strange, but I’ve been around it my whole life, and there’s no one I trust more than the Primers. And I’m not just saying that because my dad runs it. They are the best, plain and simple. Some of them—Henry, Violeta, Xavier, Mama S—they can do things I never thought possible. They’ll find who did this to you.”
Zanna stared at a swirl of autumn leaves, not wanting to tell him how she wasn’t so sure of that after talking with Lord Hemmington this morning. The Primers were looking for someone who wanted to kidnap her, but Zanna knew that the strange woman was more than some opportunistic writer of ransom letters . . .
In the blink of an eye, the park vanished, and her house appeared. Zanna hadn’t even felt them land. “808 Three Pines Drive, correct?” Owin asked as his shield released Zanna and returned to its original form.
“Yup,” Zanna said. She headed up the front path but paused before she unlocked the front door. “I should warn you, though. I live with my grandfather, and he can be . . . a little much.”
Owin’s face darkened a shade. “One of those Scientist-fearing types?”
“Oh, no,” Zanna said, turning the doorknob. “Not at all. But you’ll see.”
Pops was in the kitchen, humming and stirring a thick pot of tomato sauce. “Why hello, stranger,” he said when he heard Zanna call out. Then he turned and saw Owin behind her and raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Who’s this?”
“Owin Hemmington, sir,” Owin said, extending a hand. “Apprentice Primer. I understand your granddaughter had some trouble yesterday with an illegal metallurgical illusion. We’re taking it quite seriously, I assure you. I’m here to put some protections on your house in case the kidnappers try again.”
“A what?” Pops said. “A metallurgical?”
“The school yesterday,” Zanna told him. “That’s what he’s talking about.”
“And kidnappers?” Pops’s voice swelled in anger. “Who’s trying to kidnap Zanna?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Owin said. “Until then, we thought it a good idea to put some protections around your house. It won’t take long, I promise.”
Pops appraised Owin intently and then pointed to the kitchen table. “Sit down.”
For a moment Owin just stood there, confused, but when Zanna nudged him, he obeyed, hanging his shield on the back of a chair. “I’ll be right
back,” Pops said to Zanna. “Get our guest something to drink.”
“I’m quite all right,” Owin said as Zanna opened the fridge and poured a glass of lemonade.
“It makes him feel better if you eat something,” she whispered as she set it on the table. “Just trust me on this.”
Owin shrugged and sipped at his lemonade as Pops came back. In his hand was a box of matches, and he spilled them out on the table, selecting nine of the matchsticks and arranging them in parallel lines. Then he sat, his eyes narrowed and testing.
“Take these nine matches,” he said, “and turn them into ten.”
Owin thought for a moment and picked up one of the matches. He bent it between his thumb and forefinger and had nearly snapped it in two when Pops stopped him. “Without breaking any of them,” he clarified.
“Without breaking them?” Owin said, returning the matchstick to the table. “And I can’t just add one?”
“Everything you need is right here,” Pops said. A twinkle of mischief broke through the stern gaze he was trying to keep up. “If you’re stuck, maybe you should ask that one over there.”
He pointed over at Zanna, and she groaned. “Pops—”
“I think you’ve got me stumped,” Owin said, frowning at the matchsticks. “I haven’t the faintest idea of what to do.”
Pops raised an eyebrow, and Zanna let out an exasperated sigh. “Owin doesn’t have time for this,” she said, leaning over the table to rearrange the matchsticks to spell out TEN. “Nine into ten. Ta-da.”
“Ah!” Owin said. “That’s clever. I like it!”
“Don’t encourage him,” Zanna said dryly, gathering up the matchsticks, “or else you’ll never escape. Come on.” She turned to Pops. “He’s not here to play puzzles with you, you know.”
“Fine, go run along, you two,” Pops said. “I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Actually, sir, I do have a question,” Owin said as he rose from the table and picked up his shield again. “Do you have any exposed I-beams in this house?”
Chapter Seven
The Zanna Function Page 8