Page 31

Chapter 31

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 4

ATTENTION

Due to safety guidelines, permission to access the sister academy is not allowed until further notice. Any correspondence—verbal, written, or otherwise—is discontinued. Disregarding these regulations will result in suspension and, in continued cases, expulsion.

My grip on my backpack strap tightens as I keep rereading the sign taped to the Philautia Residence Hall door. The academy is just getting around to posting these signs now. This has nothing to do with our delivery last Friday.

Yeah.

But when I walk to Dix, the same sign is taped on the window. Then by the grade rank announcements board and flyer posts. On the recreational center doors. Even on the front of Mr. Stern’s desk in English literature.

Robby, Jasper, and I exchange nonverbal cues to talk after class.

“As you all know,” Mr. Stern says as the lesson comes to an end, “finals are next Monday and Tuesday. But I’m still expected to hold class on Wednesday. Why? Because Valentine has simply always done things this way.” Sarcasm coats his tone in a way I don’t expect. “So, I’m bringing in a fun guest speaker. Don’t fake an illness at Health Services to get out of class, all right?”

The bell rings, and we all start toward the hall.

“Mr. V!”

Halfway out the door, I turn around. Mr. Stern flags me down. At least, I think. I’m distracted by his cheetah-print suit.

Jasper stops beside me, a distressed crease between his brows. His thought process is clearly the same as mine. Is this about our latest delivery? He nudges his head toward the hall, then carries on with Robby, leaving me to fend for myself.

As I walk back into the classroom, Mr. Stern leans sideways to drag a chair toward him, which must be a challenge to do in such tight pants. I sit and fold my hands in my lap. The ATTENTION sign on his desk yells at me again.

I sweat more. “Yes?”

“You’re acting like you’re in trouble.”

“Am I in trouble?”

Mr. Stern smiles brightly enough for his eyes to squint behind his glasses. From his briefcase set on the floor, he pulls out a stack of paperwork. On top is my character analysis essay about Salinger’s “A Perfect Day for Bananafish.” “The opposite. As usual, I enjoyed your latest work. Could I share this with the English board as an example for this unit? Your angle on Seymour is better than what we came up with ourselves.”

Me.

Even though Rank One is in this class, he picked me.

“You seem surprised,” Mr. Stern says when I don’t respond.

“I’m just low on the ranks right now,” I say. “Others in here are higher.”

“Good thing those ranks don’t mark true intelligence. Some of the finest storytellers and writers are the least book smart of all. Either way, you are smart, Mr. V.”

“But I’m an Excellence Scholar. I need to remain in the top five.”

He studies me. “I’ve overheard many students of mine discussing how well you tutor them. How much they admire you.”

“Really?”

“Their grades have also improved significantly. You’re not only one of the best students I’ve had, I think you’re the best Excellence Scholar we’ve had. Whether or not you rank in the top five, I believe you’re meant to be at Valentine.”

Meant to be at Valentine.

The compliment makes my head spin, especially when someone like P.M. walked these halls. But Mr. Stern’s words don’t change reality. If I don’t rank in a little over a week, I’m gone.

“Thank you,” I say anyway.

“I just hope Valentine Academy is giving back to you as well. Is it?”

“I’m sorry?”

Mr. Stern leans back in his chair, his cheetah-print blazer shifting around his shoulders. “You’re taking advantage of the facilities? The research labs? Meeting with other instructors after hours? You can’t just give and give, and not gain anything.”

“Um. Sort of.”

“What are you gaining, then?”

This suddenly feels like a quiz. “The Student Teaching Remediation Interdisciplinary Program keeps me busy—especially with having to study so much in between—so not as much as I’d admittedly like? But I love the writing gazebo by the lake. And the library. Oh!” I toss up my hands. “I want to try to read every book back in those stacks before I graduate. They’re endless. It’s like a forest.”

“We have the best collection in the nation.”

“I believe it. My middle school never had anything even slightly comparable. Or my online school, obviously. Everything at Valentine is so incredible.”

“I’m glad to hear you’ll enjoy these next few years.” He smiles.

I smile back, even with the threat of losing my scholarship looming over me. I have to keep at PE, the ranks, and everything else standing in my way. I have to stay.

“All right, Mr. V, you’re free to go,” Mr. Stern says.

“Okay.” I rise out of my chair.

“Oh, Mr. V?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve noticed a change to your writing compared to your original Excellence Scholar essay. More exploration of the human condition, I suppose. Emotions. Keep leaning into that.”

I rub the nape of my neck. Of course he gets brought up one way or another. “That’s probably because of Jasper. He’s been teaching me a bit about that.”

“My two best students are close, it seems.”

I raise a defensive hand. “We’re just in STRIP together. And roommates.”

Then I remember. Not anymore.

That’s for the better. Because I like Jasper. I can’t deny that anymore. Sharing one room with the only person I’ve ever felt that way toward, and who won’t ever feel the same, would be torture. Besides, I don’t suddenly trust Jasper to never tell his aunt what I’m hiding. My brain knows better. Things can change.

Still, a pang remains in my chest. With one last wave, I head out the classroom door. As I turn the corner, I slam into something hard.

Jasper’s shoulder. He grins. “Talking about me?”

My face shoots with heat. “You were eavesdropping?”

“I gave you a head signal that I would wait for you.” He starts down the hallway. “Robby’s waiting around the library already. He said he would hunt down Blaze.”

I clench my hand at my side as if that’ll squeeze out all my embarrassment, then follow Jasper through the academic center and into the Halo.

“Jasper! Charlie!”

Robby and Blaze sit along the library steps, and we join them.

“I’m guessing we all found the timing of those signs not great,” Robby says, squeezing his binder like a stress ball.

“You believe someone saw us that night?” Jasper asks.

“Xavier and I stood guard on either side of that booth to keep watch. No one was around that close to lights-out.”

“I lament my involvement,” Blaze says in a dark, deep voice, biting his nails. “My cries attracted the third awakening of the Battle of Arachnid Doom.”

“I don’t think it was you, Blaze,” Robby says. “Maybe the trash bags looked suspicious even from a distance, and someone saw.”

I look toward the church bell tower and sister academy beyond. “Well, if our side didn’t get caught, then the other side did.”

Jasper faces me. “Call Delilah. Now.”