The Marked

by Inara Scott

  “He’s not like a personal adviser. He’s an adviser for the focus classes that Mr. Fritz teaches.”

  “Hmm.” She assessed me silently for a moment. “Well, you are awfully pale. And he asked me to help you out. So, what should I bring you from the cafeteria? I think it’s burritos.”

  If it hadn’t been so alarming, it would have been funny. Catherine must have thought I had some connection with Mr. Judan, and that if she were nice to me, she might get closer to him. This, I knew, wasn’t about Mr. Judan. It was purely to please her father.

  The pathetic nature of this plan might have elicited some sympathy in me, had it been anyone else. Catherine was desperate for any scrap of attention she could get from her father, who only called to remind her how important it was that she do whatever Mr. Judan wanted. I was pretty sure her dad was in the Program and wanted to make sure Catherine was headed there, too. Given her uncanny abilities in math, I figured they had nothing to worry about. Someday, she’d probably be able to break enemy codes, or program spaceships to travel at the speed of light. But right now, all she knew was that her dad wanted her to get herself noticed by Mr. Judan in any way she could.

  The idea that having Mr. Judan as an adviser would bring Catherine’s absentee father back into her life seemed very unlikely. Anyone with a heart would find the fact that she was willing to try incredibly sad.

  But then again, this was Catherine we were talking about.

  I smiled and leaned back into my pillow. “You know, Catherine, now that you mentioned it, I am hungry. Can you get me a chicken burrito with sour cream but no guacamole, extra salsa, a bowl of tortilla chips, and a glass of milk? For dessert I’ll take whatever they’re serving, but if you have time to run back over and tell me what my choices are, I’d really appreciate it.”

  She gritted her teeth and smiled. “Perfect. I’ll just be a few minutes. You lie down.” I closed my eyes with pleasure. “Will do. Thanks for taking such good care of me.”

  * * *

  After dinner, I slept for a couple more hours, then hobbled down the stairs to the second floor, my muscles still quivering. There were a bunch of guys in the hall, and it took all my strength to stand up straight and walk past them to Cam’s room like nothing had happened. Cam was sitting on his bed, his back against the wall, head nodding in time to some particularly jarring thrash music. Trevor sat across from him with a calculus book perched on his knees.

  “Hey, Cam.” I leaned on the door frame and checked the hall for teachers. It was study hours, and girls weren’t allowed in the boys’ hall.

  Cam leaned over and turned down the music. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  I tried to gauge his reaction to seeing me, but it was impossible. His deep brown eyes were cool and distant.

  “Any chance we could have a minute alone?” I asked.

  Trevor glanced at Cam and then back at me. From his lack of surprise, I guessed that Cam had filled him in on the day’s events. He grabbed a pencil and some paper and closed the book. “No problem. I’ll go down to David’s room.”

  After Trevor left, Cam pointed to his desk chair. “You should sit down before you pass out.”

  I noticed he didn’t sound particularly concerned about that prospect. I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry, Cam. About what I said. You were right—I wasn’t myself.”

  He shook his head, sending thick chestnut hair into his eyes. “Are you sure of that?”

  I closed the door behind me, and even though it was completely against the rules, sat down next to him. He made no move to touch me. “I’m still trying to figure this all out, Cam. Esther’s upset, there was the whole thing with the Irin, and now this fight. You understand how frustrating it all is, don’t you? Didn’t you feel this way your first year in the Program?”

  He stood up and walked toward the window. “My first year was different. I didn’t have your power; the Irin weren’t this active—heck, I didn’t even know they existed. You can’t expect us to treat you like everyone else.”

  I inched forward, curling my fingers around the rough fabric of his comforter, the weight of my fears returning at the mention of the Irin. “If I’m going to help you fight them, I need to understand what everyone expects of me. Sometimes I think there’s this master plan that nobody will tell me about. Like I’m running through this maze blindfolded, while you guys know where all the exits are.”

  Cam tapped his fingers on the windowsill. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

  “No, that’s not it,” I said. “It isn’t about you. It’s about them, Mr. Judan, my teachers, the Watchers. You’re the only one I do trust.”

  I trusted Cam’s heart. That I knew for sure.

  I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder. The muscles were tight under his T-shirt, and I let my fingers slide up to his neck. “Please,” I said. “Don’t let me ruin this. I can’t do it without you.”

  He turned and caught me around the waist. The kiss that followed seemed made of equal parts forgiveness and frustration to start, but slowly changed into something so deep and passionate I was left reeling. When a knock came at the door, I pulled away, my chest heaving with the effort to breathe.

  Trevor poked his head inside, his hand over his eyes. “Just a warning. They’re doing room checks. Better open the door.”

  “Thanks,” Cam said. I noticed he was breathing hard, too.

  “I’d better go back to my room,” I said. I rested my head against his chest again for one last minute, clinging to him fiercely. His heart thumped steadily, and his arms turned steely, pulling me tightly against him.

  His voice rumbled. “You should go.” He unpeeled me and gently pushed me away. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  I studied his face, hoping to see something in his eyes that would tell me that everything was okay. But it wasn’t. And I didn’t know if it ever would be again.

  MY PROGRAM classes were different after that. We went into the forest every day, and I practiced levitating trees, moving rocks, and bouncing Barrett up and down like a giant yo-yo. It was hard work. The heavier the object, the more energy I had to expend to move it. Still, they wanted me to do more than just knock things down and pick them up. They wanted me to learn to control an object’s movement down to the inch, and to be able to hold one thing in place while I moved another.

  As if this weren’t hard enough, I was also forced to practice moving things from side to side.

  In case there is any doubt, this is not easy.

  See, there’s a gravitational pull dragging things down into the earth’s core, and there’s also the pull of the moon, dragging things up into space. But there are other forces, too. Every object exerts its own pull on every other, and with a lot of work, I was able to use these forces to move things wherever I wanted them. But it all took more energy than I could have imagined.

  Things with Cam picked up where they had left off, but there was a new distance between us. We pretended it wasn’t there. Sometimes we’d go for a run together or hold hands in the hall, and things would feel like they used to. But then he’d start to tell me something and catch himself, and I could see the wall going up.

  Several times, I stared at the name Ethan Hannigan in my phone and considered deleting it. But then I would find my finger hovering over the call button, and I knew I wasn’t ready to let go.

  Esther got more depressed as the weeks passed. Cam told me that what she was going through was normal. Most candidates felt isolated and unhappy before they were initiated. It was this very sense of discontent that allowed them to access their talents at a higher level, and would ultimately inspire them to commit to the Program and all the pressure it entailed. Quite simply, if they were comfortable and happy in the normal world, they’d never have put up with the stress of being in the Program.

  This put a new spin on my own miserable existence. It hadn’t occurred to me that they might have wanted me to be unhappy as a kid, so that I’d be a better candidate for th
e Program.

  I also started to worry about Hennie. Other than her concern for Esther, Hennie was perfectly happy. Things were great with Yashir, she loved her classes, and she was experiencing her first taste of freedom at Delcroix. If she needed to be unhappy to embrace the Program, when would the bad things start happening to her?

  Soccer season ended with a whimper, the week before spring break. I was relieved it was done. Because of my training, I’d missed a lot of games and practices, and I’d had to come up with more and more lies to explain my frequent absences. At first, I’d invented colds and headaches. When it became clear I needed a better strategy, I told Allie and a few others that I was recovering from mono. My story became pretty elaborate. I invented doctor’s visits and researched symptoms on the Internet to make sure it all sounded legitimate.

  Cam shook his head and laughed when I told him about it. He said being in the Program meant you had to get good at secrecy and disguise. It was part of the bargain.

  All that training and lying left me exhausted. So, while Hennie and some of the other girls complained about spring break and being away from everyone for two weeks, I found myself looking forward to it. Cam was going to D.C. with Mr. Judan, on some official Governing Council business. He couldn’t tell me exactly what they were doing, and for once I didn’t want to know. Knowing, it seemed, only led to more heartache.

  Cam and I took a longer walk than usual the night before break began.

  “Will you miss me?” I asked as we slipped out of sight of the Main Hall.

  “You have no idea,” he said, looping his arm around my waist and letting his fingers brush against my hip.

  The air was cool and damp against my skin, and the evergreens shushed as a breeze tickled their branches. “Good. You’d better.”

  We shared a moment of peaceful silence. At times like this, I could forget about our fight and convince myself we were the perfect couple.

  “You’ll e-mail me?” I asked. “I can check my account from the library. I want to hear about your trip.”

  “I’ll tell you all about it,” he promised. “Maybe someday we’ll be doing trips like this together.”

  The path narrowed, and Cam went in front of me, reaching behind to take my hand. “When do they start sending you out on missions?” I asked. “When you’re a junior?”

  “It varies. They don’t send everyone out,” he said. “Lots of people in the Program don’t want to become Watchers. Like Barrett and his friends. They’re seniors, but they’re not involved in Governing Council business.”

  “But all of you are,” I said. I didn’t want to say Anna’s and Trevor’s names. Though neither of them had bothered me since Valentine’s Day, I still didn’t feel comfortable talking about them with Cam. I think it was my guilt that made things so hard. How could I complain about Anna or Trevor treating me with suspicion when I’d called Jack right after our fight with the Irin?

  Cam nodded. “We are.”

  As we got deeper in the woods, the trees blocked the dim sunlight, and the rich, earthy smell surrounded us. I tried to picture myself on a mission with Cam. First I pictured him knocking down doors and holding an assault rifle. Then I imagined myself beside him, chasing Thaddeus, or levitating him as he tried to run away. I liked that idea. But then Thaddeus’s face turned into Jack’s, and I got a sick feeling and had to think about something else.

  “Will they let you do any sightseeing while you’re in D.C., or is it all work?”

  “I don’t know. Depends on how quickly we get our job done.” He pressed his mouth closed as if he regretted what he’d said, and then continued in a lighter tone, “What are you doing over break? Taking Grandma to the doctor?”

  “Probably. She doesn’t like to drive on the highway anymore, so she scheduled a bunch of appointments for me to take her to while I’m home.”

  “I can’t believe she lets you drive.”

  I pulled the edges of my jacket around me. “Hey, I’m fifteen. It’s almost legal.”

  He snorted. “I’m sure your grandma could talk a cop out of giving you a ticket.”

  “They’d be scared to try,” I said.

  “You know, I think I need to hang out with Grandma more,” Cam said. “I have a feeling she’s tougher than both of us put together.”

  We crested the hill, and the lights of the Res came into view. We stopped for a minute and held each other in the dark.

  “Be careful,” I told him.

  He touched my cheek with the back of his hand. “I will,” he said. “I promise.”

  ESTHER, HENNIE, and I wove through the Delcroix parking lot on Friday with our bags of laundry slung over our shoulders and suitcases trailing behind us, searching for familiar cars amid the chaos. It wasn’t the most tender of farewells. Esther was grumpy and had been since morning. Her hair was pulled back in a severe ponytail. She looked very thin and beautiful, her eyes deep and sad. She disappeared into the crowd before we could say good-bye.

  Hennie watched her go, her brows knitted together in a worried frown. “I don’t know what she’s planning, Dancia, but I’ve got a bad feeling about it. We’re going to have to keep a close eye on her when we get back from break.”

  “What about you?” I elbowed her as we dragged our suitcases over the bumpy gravel. “What are you planning to do?”

  I was clearly talking about Yashir, who was headed in our direction. He wore his only pair of pants without holes, presumably to meet Hennie’s parents.

  Hennie closed her eyes and winced. “I don’t know.”

  “Did you tell him?”

  “Tell him that I haven’t talked to my parents about him? Of course not!”

  “Don’t you think it might be obvious when they get here and start talking about all the boys they’ve arranged for you to date while you’re home?”

  Hennie made a strangled sound. “They aren’t dates, exactly.”

  I shifted my laundry bag from one shoulder to the other. “They want to arrange your marriage, Hennie. What else would you call them?”

  “Dinner with friends?” she said hopefully. When I raised my eyebrows, she sighed. “Any chance I can just run and pretend like I haven’t seen him?”

  I eyed her suitcase. “You’re not much of a runner, and that’s a pretty big bag. I’m thinking it’s doubtful.”

  A moment later, she groaned aloud as she caught sight of her father, grinning and waving from across the parking lot, her mother at his side, tiny and beautiful like her daughter. “Dancia, they’re so excited to see me. What am I supposed to say to them?” A second later, she wrinkled her nose. “Oh, no. They’re thinking about our neighbor’s son, Rashid, I just know it. I bet we’re having dinner with him tonight!”

  “You need to tell them the truth,” I said. Hennie’s gift for reading people had been getting stronger lately. Several times in the past week she’d read someone across the room without thinking. She always brushed it off afterward as a “good guess.”

  She gave me a hug. “I can’t. Tell Yashir I’m sorry. Please?” With that she sprinted across the lot. Or rather, given that this was Hennie, she half ran, half tripped through the crowd, dragging her wheeled suitcase behind her.

  When I turned around, Yashir was beside me, watching her go.

  “She was worried they’d be mad if she didn’t come right away,” I said lamely. “She asked me to say good-bye.”

  “She’s not going to tell them, is she?” he said. “They’re going to make her go out with some guy while she’s home, and that will be it for us.” The barbell in his eyebrow drooped sadly.

  I patted his shoulder awkwardly. “They’re old-fashioned. She didn’t know what to say. That doesn’t mean she’s about to break up with you.”

  A tall woman with a ring in her nose and hair down to her waist called to Yashir. “Is that your mom?” I asked.

  He nodded, defeated. “I guess that’s it, then.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t give up. Call her tonigh
t.”

  He hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder. “Have a great break, Dancia.”

  “You too, Yashir.”

  I had two major reports due after spring break: one on Renaissance architecture for World Civ, and one on Nathaniel Hawthorne for my English class. This meant that watching TV and vegging out for two weeks was not an option.

  I could have gone to Delcroix and used the library there, but I wanted as much distance from the school as I could get. So on Monday morning, Grandma drove me to the Danville library. They didn’t have many books, but you could get interlibrary loans in a few days, and they had a couple of computers so I could do research on the Web.

  Grandma dropped me off and headed for the grocery store. I requested a few books, printed out a couple of articles from the Internet, and then checked my e-mail. There was a long, pitiful letter from Hennie telling me how guilty she felt for ditching Yashir. Nothing from Esther or Cam.

  I stared at the screen for a moment, and then, on impulse, typed Ethan Hannigan into the search engine.

  Thousands of pages came up. Apparently, Ethan Hannigan wasn’t an unusual name. I tried again, this time typing Ethan Hannigan and Delcroix Academy.

  Jackpot. The first page of search results was a series of newspaper articles from the Danville Chronicle and the Seattle Times. I saw headlines that read, Teenage Suicide Devastates Neighborhood and Family Grieves for Lost Child, but when I clicked on the links, the articles were “no longer available.”

  I tried again and again, searching for various combinations of Ethan, suicide, and Delcroix. None of the articles I wanted could be read. Even without access to the articles, it became clear that ten years ago, a boy named Ethan Hannigan, who had attended Delcroix Academy, had committed suicide. I was too nervous to ask the librarian for help finding more information. It was possible that the articles had just expired because they were old, but it seemed just as likely that someone hadn’t wanted the information out there. And if they didn’t want the information on the Internet, they probably didn’t want me looking for it, either. I deleted the search history from the Web browser and restarted the computer.