The Wicked Awakening of Anne Merchant (44 page)

twenty-eight

GRADUATION DAY

DECISION TIME.

The campus is alive, as if the souls about to depart us are expending decades of unspent energy. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and the ocean’s roar is low and pleasant, almost as if we’re not preparing for a mass execution.

Harper has insisted I help the Social Committee set up for the graduation ceremonies, so I’m trying to be helpful, even with my mind a million miles away. When I showed up at Valedictorian Hall this morning and started unfolding white wooden chairs, she shook her head, crossed her arms, and stomped her foot.

“No, Anne,
a hand’s space
between each chair!” she said in a huff. “If your hands weren’t so damn big. Pretend they’re small and dainty like mine, and start again.” If she’s serious about playing the devil’s game to get her life back, she’s going to make a fine demon.

The graduation ceremony will take place inside Valedictorian Hall, with only the senior class, their parents, their Guardians, and Headmaster Voletto in attendance. (Ben and Garnet are already inside. I didn’t even get a chance to see him.) The doors to the
hallenkirche
will be locked. The rest of us will sit outside with our parents and Guardians and watch the events unfold on two large shaded screens. The school band, which has been practicing all morning, will play for us throughout the ceremony, creating a soundtrack that Harper says will build tension and keep an air of excitement in “the
boring parts” of the ceremony. There will be popcorn, cotton candy, and soda. After all but one senior is offed, we survivors will dine on lemonade and cucumber sandwiches down at the Cania College opening ceremonies. How charming.

With our Guardians grading us, Plum and I weave long-stem flowers into the gates of Cania Christy as the first of a line of parents come up the road. They are all dressed rather optimistically in shades of white, with bright colors every so often. Linen suits. Summery dresses. As if this is a typical graduation ceremony. Harper and Agniezska stand on either side of the open gates and offer event programs to the guests as they enter, while Augusto and Jasmina usher the parents of graduates into Valedictorian Hall and show the others to their seats around back. Jasmina openly stares at those who surrendered parts of their physical selves to get their child into Cania Christy.

Like the man without a nose, who looks like a snake.

Like the cat-faced woman. At a glance, you’d think she’s just a victim of too many plastic surgery procedures. But then you see the whiskers. And the reshaped teeth, when she smiles.

Like Mark Norbussman’s 520-pound—exactly, weighed on a nearly hourly basis—mother. Like Alistair Bloomberg’s
I Love Porno
– tattooed dad. Like Joie Wannabe’s mom and dad, who’d divorced before Joie died but agreed to have their hands sutured together for twenty years, for Joie.

“The graduates will join you in Valedictorian Hall,” Harper tells senior parents.

When Harper’s dad and stepmom arrive, she gladly accepts their embraces but, always conscious of being graded, shoos them away. She glares at her little followers and even at Augusto when their parents arrive and they let them fawn too long.

But when I see my dad, I don’t give a damn what anyone says or what Pilot scribbles on his clipboard. The moment I see his silhouette and that silhouette turns into him, with his twinkling brown eyes and big, bushy beard, I abandon my spot at the front gates and haul ass down the road, throwing myself into his arms. He staggers back, but steadies us and gives me a bear hug that could easily crack my spine. Others are looking, but I don’t care. When I lean back, I see him looking at my hair. Or lack thereof.

“Do you like it?” I ask.

“What happened?” He looks worried. Really worried. “Was there a lice breakout? Or have you been listening to your mom’s old punk records?”

“I’m just experimenting,” I lie. Though it’s partly true. “We artists must always be reinventing ourselves.”

“Did Picasso ever cut off all his hair?”

“I’m not trying to be Picasso. Just me.”

Taking my hand, he walks me, with the last of the parents, to the gates. But he doesn’t step through with me. He just stops.

“I’m an employee of Cania, sweetie. I’ve gotta keep a sense of professionalism.”

“So?”

He unhooks our hands. “Pumpkin, go ahead first. I’ll meet you at the hall.”

“Where are you going?”

He smiles, but it’s a mortician’s smile, so you have to squint to see it. I notice Dr. Zin walking our way. My dad nods at him, at his scarred face. Between my shorn head, Dr. Zin’s scars, and the rest of the weirdos around here, surely my dad has figured out that Cania isn’t quite the paradise he’s selling.

“Dr. Zin is going to take me to meet Headmaster Villicus,” he says.

Dr. Zin joins us and nods at me, “Miss Merchant.”

“You’re meeting Villicus?”

“Of course,” my dad says. “He’s my boss, hunny.”

Not for long, I hope.

“Villicus has returned to oversee Cania Christy when Headmaster Voletto moves on to the college,” Dr. Zin explains, filling in the gaps. “And, naturally, he’ll be judging today’s debates with Headmaster Voletto.”

A cold sweat bursts under my uniform. Garnet has to convince
both
Mephistopheles
and
Dia Voletto that Ben—my Ben—deserves to win the Big V. As my dad and Dr. Zin head to Goethe Hall, my mind races through my interactions with Hiltop. Did I do anything that will absolutely guarantee Ben won’t win today? The last I spoke to Hiltop, she was telling me to cut my hair, and I did. I did what she said. I barely put up a fight.

But she knows I did it for Ben.

She knows what Ben means to me. And she cares in ways that Dia doesn’t.

With only Dia judging, Ben stood a chance. A solid chance. But with Dia
and
Villicus…

Molly and Mr. Watso find me talking to myself as I close the gates. We walk to the seats she’s saved for me and my dad.

“Villicus is judging today, too,” I tell her. “As in, Mephisto. As in, Will Do Whatever It Takes to Torture Me.”

Molly blanches. I half-heartedly introduce her to my dad—they look at each other in the strangest way—and she and I sit, gripping hands and waiting for Ben to walk the plank. Images of the inside of Valedictorian Hall fill the screens.

“The Seven Sinning Sisters,” I whisper to Molly as I spy the dazzling, sinful sisters standing near the screens. “They’re Ben’s only hope. They can give him life.”

“No, Anne. You can’t go back to being that person. It’s not the way to win.”

But my mind has already started working on this problem. I’ve gotta save Ben. Once and for all.

Pilot takes the seat on the other side of my dad. My dad nods at him, thinking he’s just some kid, not a punk. Invidia commands us to be quiet. As always, everyone obeys her. Well, everyone but Pilot.

I hear Pilot whisper to my dad, “I think you know my dad. Senator Dave Stone.”

“He’s your father?” my dad whispers. “Well, nice to meet you. Annie and I owe a lot to him.”

“Sure, he helped get her in.”

“Where is Dave today?”

I stiffen. Dave Stone wouldn’t be here because Pilot’s not a student anymore. But my dad doesn’t know that.

“In California.”

“He couldn’t make it?”

“He wasn’t invited.”

Invidia zeroes in on Pilot, who sees her and stops talking, to my relief. Is he planning on telling my dad I destroyed his vial? Is he going to expose my secret past, and the way I’ve terrorized so many staff members, to my dad?—here and now? I fire him a warning glare.

On the left screen is a close-up of Dia’s face, which looks dark and hollow. On the right screen, a close-up of Villicus. Dia is the first to speak. Barely. Molly squeezes my hand at the almost inaudible squeak of Dia’s voice. It looks like our plan is working. Today is the day I end Dia Voletto for good. What will happen to Mephisto after that remains to be seen. I’ve searched the crowd for Teddy, who promised to be here, but I can’t find him.

“Welcome,” he says, “to the sixty-fifth annual graduation ceremony for the Cania Christy Preparatory Academy.”

He gestures to the graduates. The camera pans to the first five rows in the hall, where fifty graduates are sitting in cap and gown next to their Guardians. Students whisper names to their parents, pointing out those they know and the front-runners for the Big V. I see Jack, Joie, a half-dozen others—and, at the end of the fifth row, Ben.

On one side of me, Molly whispers, “He’ll be okay.”

On the other side, Pilot whispers to my dad, “Annie hasn’t mentioned me?”

I scowl at him. “Pilot, quiet.” And jab my finger at the screens. “This is important.”

“So’s this,” he sneers.

“Is something the matter?” my dad asks. His deep voice hardly registers in a whisper.

“No, it’s nothing, Dad.”

“Actually, it
is
,” Pilot insists.

The Seven Sinning Sisters are watching us curiously. I shrug at them, like I’m not sure how someone like Pilot can exist, and Superbia starts our way. Pilot notices.

“You siccing your thug on me?” he asks me.

I’m as amazed as he is to see Superbia coming over. And so quickly.

“Kids, hush,” my dad says.

Pilot hurriedly whispers, “She had me killed. Your little girl. She’s not a girl. She’s a bad chick. In her soul.”

“
Pilot
!” I hiss.

Superbia arrives at the end of the row and gestures for Pilot to go with her.

“Mr. Stone,” she says. “To your feet. You should not be bothering the students and their parents.”

“Is he not a student?” my dad asks.

“He was expelled,” Superbia says. “And we’ll see to it that he is sent away once again.”

Heads turn as Superbia, apologizing for the commotion, takes Pilot away by the arm.

“Dave Stone’s child was expelled?” my dad asks.

I’m getting so tired of the lies. The secrecy. It’s always a matter of one more lie, one more half truth, one more cover-up, but they just keep stacking up, and there’s always a reason for another one. With a heavy sigh, I look at my dad. I’m ready to confess it all.

But he just rubs my neck and pulls my cheek to him. “I think Pilot has a crush on you.”

What?

That’s
it
? A kid tells my dad I had him killed and I’m totally bad, and that’s the best he can say?

“Dad, he wasn’t lying.”

“
Shhh
.” He points to the screen. “They’re about to read the short list.”

“I threw Pilot’s vial into the water back in September. I killed him.”

“Annie, please. Hush.”

“But there’s more. Mom made an exchange—”

Molly kicks me hard in the shin. I double over, and everyone around us looks again. Molly shakes her head sharply at me. Like she doesn’t think I should come clean.

Invidia asks for our silence. Rubbing my shin, I return my attention to the screens just as Teddy inches out from behind the one on the right.

He nods at me.

Teddy’s here! This is going to happen. I’m going to destroy Dia Voletto today, which he knew about, but what he hasn’t expected is that Mephisto will surely need to be battled shortly thereafter. It’s the only way to keep Mephisto from gaining all Dia’s strength. Teddy’s going to need to call for some sort of celestial, angelic support.

I mouth
We need to talk
to him. He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand. It’ll have to wait, but for how long?

“I have in my hands,” Dia reads to his captive audience, and we see a paper shaking in his grip, “the names of the ten members of the graduating class who have been short-listed.”

Molly whispers to me, “Dia looks awful.”

Yeah, awful. Ripe for the killing. Only to unleash a hellish battle that might make all this work for nothing. If Dia’s demons just move along to follow Mephisto, what will we have achieved?

I struggle to focus on the screens.

“If your name is not called,” Dia says wearily, “please remain seated. You will have… Where was I? Sorry, you’ll have thirty seconds at the end of the ceremony to bid your parents good-bye.”

A woman behind me mumbles, “Oh, those poor people.”

But she keeps sitting. Her child, who will be going through this experience in a few years, sits next to her, yet neither of them seems to appreciate that they, too, are “those poor people.” They comment on the mass slaughtering, but no one actually does anything to stop it. Death is both the worst game to play and the ultimate spectator sport.

“But first,” Dia says, “as you all know, this year has been a rather exciting one. I’ve taken over as headmaster, and I’ve made a few changes. You’ll recall the new reward of the Scrutiny challenge. The winning student from each grade was given anything they’d like. And most chose life.”

As people clap, my dad whispers, “Who was the lucky winner in your grade?”

“I was.”

“You? But…what did you ask for? Why didn’t you wake up?”

“This is what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Shaking his head, he says, “That’s enough. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Anne.”

“Dad—”