by Cody Wagner
Racing to the desk, I shoved a pencil and piece of paper into my pocket, threw on a jacket, and took off running.
“Where are you going?” Cassie said.
“I’ll be right back. Start gathering everyone in the lobby.”
“OK.”
After all the sprinting I’d done lately, I figured I’d have been an Olympic athlete by now. But frigid air tore at my lungs the second I stepped outside. The wind had picked up and beat against me like a steroidal fighter. I ignored the pain and ran straight to the Admissions Building.
Once I rounded the corner, I ducked below a window and stopped. The building shielded me from the wind, and I took a second to pant and look around. It was almost completely dark, and no one was around. Good. I retrieved the pencil and paper. My fingers shook like crazy, but I managed to write:
Tracy Bridges is under control. Search YouTube for her video. Not her fault.
Although I knew it was the right decision, I stared at the note, balking. After tonight, Sanctuary would know for certain the Seeker was a student. Over Christmas, it could have been an adult or visitor. Not anymore.
Finally, I growled, “GO!” and took off running. Again, I skidded to a halt near Wolcott’s car and shoved the note in the door handle. This time, instead of sprinting away, I kicked the fender. An alarm began blaring. I froze, heart ramming in my chest, and peeked at the Admissions Building. A light went on upstairs.
This was it. Cursing the Siren, I ran faster than I’d ever run back to the dorm.
I couldn’t have been gone more than ten minutes, but the lobby was packed when I returned. And not just with younger students. The entire student body had crammed in, overflowing into the halls. Looking around, I noticed Tracey’s absence. It wasn’t surprising. I just couldn’t help but imagine what she was feeling right now. Even if the staff knew she was innocent, the student body would hate her. Forever.
The entire place buzzed with hushed conversations. Lots of people were crying. Others looked furious. One guy kept kicking the wall next to the video games. I looked past him and saw Timothy with his boyfriend. Pain stabbed my chest, and I tore my gaze away before he noticed me. The hurt was muted by fear and anger, but it was still there.
“Hey.”
I turned to see Roze and Cassie. Cassie’s face still shone with tears, but she’d stopped crying. Roze went to put her arm around Cassie’s shoulders, but Cassie pulled herself away.
“She’s right,” I said. “We can’t show same-sex affection anymore.”
Roze nodded and said, “Damn the Siren.”
“So you think Tracey was under control, too?” I said.
She nodded. “It finally happened. The Siren is coming.”
Cassie nodded. “At least the Zealots are.”
Roze’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Answer me this. Tracey’s the only student who’s been under control. And it’s happened twice.”
I hadn’t thought about that and stared at Roze.
“Is it coincidence?” Cassie said, asking the question going through my head.
Roze shrugged.
That’s when I remembered Mrs. Cooke had a run-in with Tracey outside the girl’s bathroom. She’d looked at Tracey with pure hatred and revenge.
The realization hit me like a nuclear blast as other blocks fell into place. Mrs. Cooke was all about power and control. Her husband was under control. Also, because of Mr. Cooke’s position, she had connections.
Could she be the Siren?
The thought had crossed my mind before, but I’d never dwelled on it because it seemed ridiculous. Now, curiosity flooded me. I had more research to do . . . if Sanctuary survived.
Suddenly, someone shouted, “There’s another video!”
Everyone clamored for their phones.
“What do we search!?” someone shouted.
“Same thing!”
Cassie searched for Tracey Sanctuary Confession, and sure enough, a new video sat under the original. Finger trembling, Cassie hit play.
This video was shot in one of the classrooms. Tracey appeared to be alone and was crying. More importantly, she wasn’t under control anymore. I looked at the ceiling, thinking, Wolcott got my note. Terrified and relieved at the same time, I looked back at the screen as Tracey said, “My name is Tracey Bridges. I just made a video about Sanctuary Preparatory Academy. It was completely untrue. Sanctuary is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Her voice broke for a few seconds as she sat there, crying. After wiping her face, she resumed. “I take full responsibility for my actions and am immediately leaving Sanctuary. I apologize to anyone I hurt.”
Tracey tried to say something else, but she was crying so hard, nothing came out. Finally, the video mercifully stopped.
I heard the video playing around the room for the next few minutes. Then, a chorus of hate ignited. No one believed Tracey. And why should they? All they saw was a girl sell out the school then take back her words, probably under pressure from the faculty.
“Poor Tracey,” Roze said.
Cassie studied the crowd.
My thoughts were in one place: I wondered if Sanctuary could cure someone under control. The two videos were no more than an hour apart. Did Tracey snap out of it on her own, or did Wolcott do something?
“Tracey must not be under control anymore,” Cassie said, biting her lip.
I flinched. Did she suspect a Seeker or the staff?
Roze gaped at her. “You’re right. What does that mean?”
Cassie stared off at nothing. “I don’t know.”
“Me either,” I added, trying to sound casual.
“How did the school find out about her?” Roze said.
“I’m sure they saw the video,” I said. “And they knew she was under control last year.”
“If they are doing something about Tracey,” Roze said, “Why not Senator Joseph?”
I pulled a Cassie and stared at nothing. They were skirting around topics I wasn’t prepared to discuss, so I changed the subject. “Why didn’t Tracey delete the other video? Wasn’t it under her account?”
Roze pointed at me. “Good question.”
Cassie unlocked her phone, and her fingers flew over the keyboard. The first YouTube video popped up, and Roze gasped so hard, she chirped.
“What?” I said.
“The account. Look!”
Cassie and I peered down at the screen and found the user who’d posted the first video:
SheWillCrashAgainstTheRocks
“Oh my god,” I said.
“It’s her,” Roze said.
Cassie clicked the username, and we held our breaths, waiting for the profile to load. It was blank. And there were no other videos associated with the user.
“Click the ‘About’ link,” Roze said.
Cassie did and we all looked.
“The account was created today,” I said.
“She did it just for this,” Roze said.
I sighed. “And we can’t delete the video.”
Cassie gestured at the screen. “How do we know it’s her only account?”
“Try some others,” Roze said.
The three of us searched for different variations of crashing, rock, siren, and lighthouses. No luck. Still, this was mind-blowing. We were seeing the Siren in action. This made her feel more real than ever.
Suddenly, a bell started ringing.
“Our parents are here!” someone shouted.
That sent the room into a panic. One girl actually screamed. A guy from my English class started running in circles around the sofa.
“Calm down!”
It was Timothy. His voice brought the room to a stop. “It’s not our parents. That’s the auditorium bell. The teachers just want to talk to us.”
As always, he was cool and collected. I missed that voice and hated it at the same time. Why was he so perfect?
I shook my head, angry at myself. This wasn’t the time.
I ma
naged to gain control, turned away from him, and nodded at Roze and Cassie. Together, we made our way to the auditorium.
The chairs were frozen over when we arrived, but no one wanted to sit, anyway. Likewise, the entire staff stood on the raised platform at attention. Their united stance calmed me a bit, like they were on top of things. Curious, I peeked around for Tracey and saw no trace of her.
Five minutes later, the auditorium was packed, and everyone huddled together for warmth. Principal Wolcott’s face was bright red from the cold, but he didn’t seem to notice. His gaze was on us, his expression unreadable. I could see worry on the other teachers’ faces, though. Coach Adkins had bags under his eyes.
Wolcott walked to the edge of the stage, and we all leaned forward. We were desperate to hear what he’d say. I think everyone wanted reassurances, for the grown-ups to tell us things would be OK.
“This is our direst moment,” Wolcott said.
My heart dropped.
He looked around. “I’m not going to sugar coat it. This is the situation at its most perilous. Senator Joseph will come. And soon. We can’t remove the video. He will see it.”
Principal Wolcott was right. The next few days would shape our entire future.
“But—” Wolcott said.
The entire huddle of students raised up on our tiptoes, like we were reaching for hope.
“We’ve known Sanctuary was at risk from the beginning,” Wolcott continued. “Yes, the situation isn’t favorable. But one person alone can’t bring us down. Not if we work together. Remember, we’re visited by your parents three times a year. In hundreds of visits, we’ve never been compromised. So I know everyone here can, and will, rise up.”
He stepped back and motioned for Coach Adkins. Adkins walked to the front of the stage. He looked like a commander, proud and tall.
“Here’s what needs to be done.” He began pacing back and forth across the stage, his breath visible in big frozen puffs. “First, everyone will clear their phones. No risky pictures, text messages, phone numbers, or anything.” He stared out at us. “Some of you may be tempted to take convincing pictures with the opposite sex. Please refrain. This isn’t the time for over-the-top antics. Outrageous claims that you’re healing will not work on Zimmerman’s Zealots. In fact, it may make them suspicious.”
Normally, students had the hardest time giving up their crazy healing shenanigans. But, in the moment, I knew everything Adkins said was law, and nobody here was going to step out of line. Not now.
“Next,” Adkins said, “go through your rooms and trash anything incriminating: pictures, gifts, clothes.”
A few people gasped. I thought about what I’d do if I were told to throw away something Timothy had given me. It would have been tough.
Adkins read the crowd and said, “Zimmerman’s Zealots will do searches. A gift can always be replaced. You cannot.”
I looked around and saw a few people reluctantly nodding.
Adkins walked to the other side of the stage. “When finished, put your trash in the bins next to the gym. We’ve arranged for a garbage pickup first thing in the morning. In the meantime, our staff will begin inspecting rooms, looking for items you may have missed.”
He went back to center stage, and his expression softened. “I know I don’t have to plead with or threaten anyone here. You’re the finest students we’ve ever have. We should know: we picked you. And together, we will get through this.”
I looked around and saw toughened faces. Other than Roze, Cassie, and I, everyone else believed Adkins. They believed we would succeed. They had no reason not to.
For a second, I was jealous of their confidence. And I wanted to believe Adkins, too. I really did. But I knew he was lying, at least partly. There was no way we could “get through this” if the Siren wanted it badly enough.
That’s when I realized we did have a chance: me. I was the lone hope of the school. If the Siren did something while Zimmerman’s Zealots were here, I was the only person who’d know and could do anything about it.
The air around me suddenly felt colder, and I found myself hiding my hands in my jacket.
The rest of the teachers came forward and stood next to each other, like a wall. Wolcott said, “We will do everything in our power to get through this. However, if something goes wrong, the staff will take full responsibility. We’re the reason you’re here, and we will not be a cause of harm. If the school is exposed, we have information that will place the blame on us, not you.”
I held my breath and scanned the row of teachers. Their eyes were brave and some of them nodded. For the first time, I realized the position they’d put themselves in. Until now, I thought they had the best teaching job on the planet. Suddenly, I knew the job meant risk. Surely, they were told this could happen, and that they’d take the fall. Yet here they were.
I looked at the students again. This time, a weird pride swelled in my chest. Everyone here beat the odds or took a risk in one way or another. We were fighters, the staff and the students. We were going to war, but we were strong. My hands balled into fists. I was going to do everything I could. If it meant following Zimmerman’s Zealots around twenty-four seven, and writing nonstop notes about who was under control, so be it. If it meant coming forward as the Seeker if the situation got too bad, so be it.
My concentration was broken by Wolcott.
“If we fail the inspection,” he said, “I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of each and every one of you.” His eyes roamed the crowd, and I could see how much he loved this place. “You’ve give me the best experiences of my life. I’ll never forget the orientations, the Pumpkin Bashes, the graduations. I’ll also never forget the students we’ve lost to unyielding parents.” Suddenly, his sadness vanished, and he fixed us with the most penetrating look I’d ever seen from him. “Speaking of lost, I want you to find it in yourselves to forgive Tracey Bridges.”
That started a wave of protests. A few people shouted insults at Tracey as if she were there. Wolcott held up a hand and the backlash simmered. “Those of you who know her must realize she loved Sanctuary.” He found Darrin in the crowd and stared at him. “Sometimes, things happen beyond our control and without our permission. Miss Bridges wasn’t herself tonight. I don’t expect you to understand, but I ask you to forgive her.”
“Why?” someone shouted.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t go into it,” Wolcott said. “But think about the times in your life when you were forced to do or say something that went against who you are. It’s happened to all of us. Rest assured, Sanctuary does not blame her and neither should you.”
Before anyone could protest further, Wolcott dismissed us to handle our cleaning duties. I wanted to stick around, to help convince the students Tracey was innocent, but what could I possibly say?
Roze placed a hand on my arm. “We should get to work.”
That’s when I heard, “Trales, Merrill, Clarke. A minute please.”
I looked up to see Principal Wolcott heading toward us.
“Yes, sir?” Roze said.
“I’d like to see each of you. Separately.”
The three of us looked at each other. I tried to mimic their puzzled expressions, but I had an idea what Wolcott wanted.
“I’ll go first,” Roze said.
Wolcott nodded, and they went near the stage and started talking.
Cassie squinted, trying to read Wolcott’s lips. “What do you think he’s saying?”
“No idea,” I lied. My hands were so cold from the biting air and nerves, I put them under my armpits and stared at Roze. She shrugged a few times as they talked, but it didn’t get more animated than that.
After a few minutes, Wolcott nodded, and Roze started heading back. As she did, Cassie went to him for her turn. I took the few seconds of privacy to yank the locket from around my neck. I shoved it into my pocket just as Roze arrived.
“What was that about?” I said.
“You’ll see,” Roze s
aid. “He doesn’t want me to say.”
I nodded and watched Cassie. She shrugged and shook her head a few times, just like Roze had, then headed back. Now it was my turn, and I tried mentally plugging my diarrhea mouth as I walked over.
“Yes, sir?” I said, my teeth chattering when I arrived.
“I know it’s cold,” Wolcott said, “but I won’t take up much of your time.”
“It’s fine,” I said, acting casual. “What’s up?”
He fixed me in his X-ray gaze. “Is there anything you need to tell me?”
Wow. He got right to the point. It caught me so off guard, I almost started choking on my spit. I managed to compose myself and shrugged like Roze and Cassie had. “Like what?”
Wolcott stared at the ground for a second then looked back at me. “You’d know.” After a brief pause, he continued, “I just want to impress upon you how dire our situation is. And any pertinent information you have could make a difference.”
I stared back at him, my breath erupting in little puffs. I shrugged again. “I don’t know what you mean? I’m sorry.”
My apology was sincere. Mentally, I was saying, I’m going to do everything I can to help. Even if it means I don’t sleep or eat for a week.
Wolcott studied me then put a hand on my shoulder. “OK. Please return to your room and begin cleaning.”
I found myself blurting, “What are you going to do?”
He looked at me, his eyes full of purpose. “I’ve got more students to talk to. Then, we’re doing the same thing as you: clearing our rooms.
“Good luck, sir.” I turned and headed back to Roze and Cassie, thinking. Naturally, Sanctuary suspected one of Jimmy’s closest friends of being the new Seeker. I secretly wished Jimmy had more friends while he was here. That would have made the suspect pool larger.
“Why do you think he wanted to see us?” Roze said.
“No idea,” I said. “Talk about vague.”
