Not a soul will disobey her. According to Darkwood lore, a student once ripped open her envelope prematurely and was reslotted into the ninetieth stratum, forfeiting her coveted spot in the Ten.
A collective breath is taken as the teachers begin making their way through the maze of tables, calling out names and handing envelopes to the students who jump up to retrieve them.
For a moment, I allow myself to look at Levi.
He’s eating. He’s slow, almost methodical about the way he organizes his lasagna on his fork, using his knife as a guide. He doesn’t look up and is obviously not interested in the stratum rankings.
Then, he moves his head slightly, and our eyes meet. It’s exactly like one of those slow-motion moments in a movie. Only in a movie, that’s usually the beginning of a relationship, and this is most definitely not.
Neither of us looks away.
“Emma,” Pru coaxes me, “you’re being summoned.”
She’s right. Principal Fleischer is calling my name, and I nearly missed it. Because of him. I leap up to take my envelope from the principal’s hand and sit down again, placing my stratum letter in front of me on the table. Emmaline Chance is scrawled across it in crisp, old-fashioned calligraphy. Pru is called a few names later.
As I look around the room, observing the final juniors retrieving their envelopes, I see Levi pull out a book and start reading. I’m too far away to see the cover, but it’s a paperback and it’s thick. He leans back in his chair, like this is normal, like he’s above us all, the clone of a dead boy, who, newly arrived at that dead boy’s school, casually reads during one of Darkwood’s most anticipated and dreaded events. I’m hit with an urge to pummel him until he feels as small as I do.
“Has any junior not received an envelope?” Principal Fleischer asks.
No one answers.
“Good. Let me remind you that the five juniors ranked at the top of their class will have the privilege of becoming a part of Darkwood’s prestigious Ten. Seniors who were initiated into the Ten last year will remain part of the Ten as mentors, and senior Madison Huxley will serve as this year’s Ten leader.”
My gaze wanders over to Madison, who beams as students shoot her admiring and envious looks.
“And now,” Fleischer says dramatically, “you may open your envelopes.”
Ripping is heard across the cafeteria as juniors tear into their letters. I don’t open mine yet. Instead, I watch my fellow classmates’ reactions. Some are devastated, others ecstatic.
I glance at Levi. He’s still reading, clearly unconcerned with anything that’s happening around him—especially the envelope sitting in front of him on the table.
“Emma, for God’s sake, how can the suspense not be killing you?” Pru teases as she nudges my envelope toward me.
Unable to deny that I’m now nearly as curious as everyone else about how I ranked, I turn my attention to my envelope and slice it open.
Emmaline Chance. Stratum: 5
I am fifth in my class. I am part of the Ten.
Dark Lake
I stare at the card with my name on it. I’m not entirely surprised. On the day of the stratum test, I’d forced myself to banish my grief over Oliver’s death and focus solely on the task at hand. Those four hours turned out to be a welcome respite from the feeling of the serrated knife. It’s no wonder I did so well on the test.
I suppose I should be celebrating now. At the very least, I should be happy to have some good news to report to my father—but all I can think about is him. I don’t look back at him. I don’t want to see him reading that book so cavalierly. I wonder if he’s even bothered to open his envelope, and what his rank is. Then I feel a pang of guilt. Except for the four-hour block during the stratum test, Oliver has occupied my every waking thought since he died. I’m resentful of these questions about Levi that crowd my mind. Resentful of him. This is exactly why I told him to get lost. Because his very presence threatens my memories of Oliver.
“Who’s going to share?” Pru pipes up, interrupting my thoughts. “Pippa? Emma? Don’t everyone talk at once.”
“You know the rules, Pru. No one has to share their stratum if they don’t want to,” I remind her.
“Oh, please. Like you’ve ever cared about rules. Hand it over,” she says, reaching for my envelope.
But I hesitate. It’s not that I don’t want to tell Pru about my rank. It’s that I haven’t even processed what it means. And I’m not ready to. Not yet. Then the view space begins flashing, and I’m saved from having to answer her. But my relief is short-lived as I remember from past years what happens next. The names and faces of the top five juniors are about to be displayed. Great. Now I have to sit here while my score is revealed not just to Pru, but to the entire school.
Within seconds, a face appears in the view space, a smiling holographic head that rotates in the air above us, giving everyone an opportunity to stare at it.
It’s Madison. But she’s the Ten leader, so it can’t be her… No, it’s Maude—her Similar.
The room begins to buzz. I glance over at the Similars’ table to see Maude’s friends congratulating her, including Levi, who has set his book down and is, surprisingly, engaging. Over at the originals’ table, flanked by her fan club, Madison looks ready to murder someone.
In the view space, words scroll across Maude’s image in giant type.
MAUDE GRAVELLE. STRATUM: 1
Maude’s face dissolves, and in its place comes another familiar one. Not Tessa, but Theodora. I’m starting to feel a strange sense of déjà vu. First Maude, now Theodora? Two clones, holding the top two spots in the junior class?
I watch as Theodora’s name scrolls across her image with her stratum.
“Wow,” Pru says to Pippa. “Your friends are totally winning at life right now.”
Pippa shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I see a hint of a smile on her face. She’s proud of them. But she doesn’t look surprised. It’s like she was expecting this all along. Meanwhile, the noise level in the dining hall has risen a decibel or two. The reveal of these first two Ten members has stunned nearly everyone, including Madison and Tessa, who confer at their table, both of them noticeably distressed. I can’t help but enjoy seeing them thrown off their game.
As Theodora’s face dissolves, another one takes its place. My heart leaps to my throat. It’s Levi. He’s nabbed the number-three spot.
The whole cafeteria erupts. This is unprecedented. Madison jumps up from her seat, ranting about how the Darkwood board is going to get an earful about this. The Similars can’t waltz in and steal top rankings from longtime Darkwood students. She’s convinced the stratum test must have been rigged in their favor.
Up on the view space, Levi’s face disappears and another takes its place.
“Pru?” I say out loud, my eyes widening at her rotating image.
PRUDENCE STANWICK. STRATUM: 4
I’m not surprised Pru’s scored so well. She’s one of the brightest kids at Darkwood.
“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!” I chide before swallowing a spoonful of stew, mindful of the fact that I need to eat, even though the pharmas dull my appetite.
“It’s been like five minutes!” Pru laughs.
“Five incredibly long minutes,” I argue. “And it’s the principle of it. Is keeping secrets from me your new MO? First your Similar, now your stratum ranking?” I press.
“Absolutely not,” Pru answers lightly. “This is a first-day-of-school anomaly. I promise, if anything notable happens in my life after this, you’ll be the first to know. And you too, Pippa,” she adds quickly.
“Thanks,” Pippa replies, “but you and Emma are roommates. You’ve been close since forever. I know I can’t show up and expect best-friend privileges.”
“Trust me, Pippa, you deserve any privileges you want,” I say between
bites.
“What Emma means is that you and I are practically long-lost sisters,” Pru clarifies. “Consider yourself a part of my family. And families tell each other stuff.”
From the look on her face, Pippa’s touched. She’s about to answer when a couple of classmates rush up to wrap Pru in a hug. I watch, happy for my friend. If anyone deserves this accolade, it’s Prudence. I’m also relieved she’ll be on this Ten journey with me. We’ll face it—whatever ‘it’ entails—together.
I look in the direction of Madison Huxley and her cohorts. If they looked miffed before, now they’re downright pissed. They aren’t any happier about Pru making it into the Ten than they were about the Similars. It’s obvious Madison is threatened by Maude scoring the number-one spot, but what does she have against Pru? Where is this animosity coming from?
“Why has my face been up there for so long?” Pru moans. “What’s taking them so long to get on to the next… Oh,” Pru says. “Oh!”
I look up at the view space, knowing exactly what I’m going to find there, hoping that somehow the outcome will be different. But of course, it isn’t. It’s me on the screen, my own face projected above the dining hall.
EMMALINE CHANCE. STRATUM: 5
Before I can consider hiding under the table, Pru and Pippa are congratulating—and chastising—me.
“You did not just give me a whole speech about keeping secrets when you were sitting on this one!” Pru exclaims. Of course, she’s only teasing; I can tell she’s genuinely excited for me. I’m glad someone’s enjoying this. I haven’t come to any conclusions about my rank one way or the other. Sure, the high stratum will complement my college applications next year. But all my dreams of college involved Oliver. With him gone, I can barely think past next week, let alone next year. As for the Ten, is bowing out of that society even an option? No one’s done it before, as far as I know. Maybe I could be the first… But then again, my father would probably ground me for life if I gave up this kind of opportunity.
A couple of my classmates rush up to high-five me, but most of the dining hall is quietly staring. I avert my eyes to my bowl. I hate this attention. It’s bad enough everyone pities me after Oliver’s death. And then with my outburst at Levi’s arrival… I’m relieved when my picture dissolves, and the stratum reveal is over. The dining hall returns to its regular decibel level—though each table is having the same conversation about the new members of the Ten.
“I don’t know who I’m happier for,” Pippa tells Pru. “You two or my three friends. I’ll have to remind Levi to look a little bit more appreciative in the future,” she adds, glancing at the Similars’ table. “His reaction has been slightly underwhelming, don’t you think?” As soon as the words have come out of Pippa’s mouth, she regrets them. I can tell.
Suddenly it’s all too much. I stand, my chair screeching as it scrapes the floor. “I’m going to bed. I’m super tired. Long day. Nice meeting you, Pippa. Congrats again, Pru. See you back in the room. Good night.”
I flee the dining hall, hoping I won’t run into anyone on my way to Cypress. Tears stream down my face, and the cold evening air accosts me like a stranger.
I consider taking another pharma as I stare at the numerals on my clock: 8:47 p.m. It’s a full eleven hours until I have to be up for my first class. The night hours are the worst, because time doesn’t move slowly—it ambles to a lazy halt and loiters mercilessly.
There are seventeen pills left. Dr. Delmore gave me enough to get me through the first few weeks of school, warning me to taper them or risk becoming addicted to the comfort they provide. But I’ve already taken several today. At this rate, they won’t last a week. I could go see one of the grief counselors on campus and ask for more pills, but I dismiss that idea immediately. I know they’re here to help, but I can’t bear the thought of retelling my story. Oliver’s story. It would take too much out of me.
If I took one, just one more, then I could sleep without seeing Oliver—without seeing Levi. I swallow the pharma dry. One down, sixteen to go.
When I wake up, I can’t breathe.
And it’s not a state of mind. I’m choking.
* * *
Panic floods my body as I realize I’m not hallucinating. I actually can’t breathe. I gasp for air, but instead of oxygen, I get a mouthful of cold water. What’s happening to me? Where am I? A memory flashes across my mind: the time I fainted as a kid after getting a flu shot. I woke up spread-eagled on the floor of the doctor’s office, unsure of my name or how I got there. It was terrifying. It’s how I feel now.
My mind races. I’m rational. I can fix this. Can’t I?
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe because I’m underwater.
I’m submerged.
But where am I? At the bottom of a pool? Then it hits me: Dark Lake.
In Dark Lake. I’M IN DARK LAKE.
Horror builds in my chest as I try, again, to gasp for fresh air. Once again, I gulp in water. No! This isn’t happening!
Ears pounding, heart thundering against my rib cage, I try to swim to the surface. But something’s stopping me. My right leg. It’s as heavy as lead. Or maybe it’s caught? No, there’s a brick tied to it, or something as heavy as a brick. I shake my leg with all the force I can muster, but the weight doesn’t budge.
No, no, no. I will not die this way. I can’t. I won’t!
I grasp for my left wrist, locating my plum by feel and pressing down on the home button, hard. I pray Dash will send out a lifesaving signal. It may be my only hope. Then I angle my head and torso downward toward my leg. The water’s pitch-black, and I can’t orient myself. Can’t see a thing. In desperation, I feel for my right ankle. My fingers fumble around until they rest on a string. There’s a string tied around my ankle! And attached to that, the heavy object that’s making me sink to the bottom of the lake. The thing that will kill me if I can’t get it off.
I can’t scream. I can’t call for help. I’m trapped, and the seconds are racing by. Precious seconds I need to save myself. No, no. Please no. My brain begins to fog. My mind swirls against my will, becoming soft, fuzzy.
But I’m not done. Not even close. Mustering all my strength, adrenaline, and will, I yank at the string. It chafes against my leg. Painfully. I yank again.
The string slips off, and along with it, the weight.
I’m free now. Free! But so disoriented. I don’t know which way is up. Or which way is down. I make a last-ditch guess as to where the surface is, and I swim, kicking my legs as hard as I can and reaching my arms up with all the fight I have left. But the surface doesn’t come.
I must be swimming in the opposite direction. The wrong direction. And now, it’s too late. My brain clouds from lack of oxygen, and though I try not to give in to it, I close my eyes. I’m so tired… Will it be easier this way? Will I see Oliver sooner? I don’t think I believe in heaven, but maybe the universe will be merciful. Maybe I’ll wake up on the other side, and he’ll be there next to me.
The thing is, I don’t actually want to die. Not now. Not yet. Not like this.
Maybe it isn’t my time, because someone’s pulling me. Someone’s saving me. I feel sturdy hands around my waist, hoisting me in one direction. Dragging me through the frigid water. To the surface? Or to drown me in the lake’s depths? It’s impossible to tell, but I have no choice. Nearly gone—nearly unconscious—I do the only thing left. I hold on for dear life, letting my savior guide me.
An eternity later, I’m heaved out of the water and onto the shore of Dark Lake. Every bone in my body feels like it’s thudding against the ground. My head throbs with an alarming level of pain.
I gasp for breath. I cough and choke. I’m alive—I think.
I look up at the figure bending over me. It’s Pru. Pippa? No. It’s Prudence. She’s soaking wet.
“Emma.” Pru’s voice is ragged. “Emmaline! Are you okay
? Tell me you’re okay.”
I cough for a good thirty seconds before I can utter any words. When I do, my voice sounds choppy and raw, like someone took a grater to my throat. “I’m okay,” I sputter. “What happened?”
I’m racking my brain to remember how I got to the lake, but I can’t recall anything after dinner. The stratum rankings. The round, white pharma…
“Did I fall in?”
“Not exactly,” Pru says, pulling me into a seated position.
“So how did I…?” I stare at Pru’s grim face. “Somebody threw me in, didn’t they?”
Pru nods.
“But the pharmas.” I’m trying to make sense of this. “They aren’t that strong. Are they?”
Except I took more than one today. It’s the only way to explain how I was so dead asleep that I could have been dragged from my bed, never waking until I was submerged under the black water. With a brick tied to my leg. Still, I’m not so sure my pills would completely knock me out like that…
Prudence doesn’t explain. As she throws a dry sweater over my shoulders, I hear stifled giggling a few feet away from us on the shore. Confused, I turn in the direction of the laughter and squint at the figures standing there. In the moonlight, I can see Madison Huxley flanked by Tessa Leroy and a slim girl with jet-black hair to her waist. A senior, Angela Chen. Madison holds a hand up to cover her mouth, and I’m certain she’s the one who laughed. Tessa examines the platinum polish on her fingertips, appearing bored. They aren’t alone. Off to the side a few paces is Archer, who yawns, barely awake. A few feet from him is Maude. She looks awkward standing there by herself, and incredibly tense. They all stare as Pru helps me to my feet.
“Better grab some towels, you two,” Madison lilts. “Wouldn’t want you to get sick. It’s flu season. Oh,” she adds, turning to me and grinning. “Silly me. I forgot to say welcome.”
“Welcome?” I pull the sweater as tight around me as I can. I’m shivering and disoriented, and still reeling from almost drowning. Not to mention thankful that Pru is so athletic she could rescue me. “Welcome to what?”
The Similars Page 5