The Unseemly Education of Anne Merchant (41 page)

“Don’t give me that look, Anne. We’re all competing. It’s a matter of life and death.”

Pilot strolls toward the fire, which burns without spreading, and stops feet from me. I can’t move. This betrayal is colder than all the sheets of ice I ran through tonight. Colder than the chills that consumed my body every morning since I arrived here. The coldest.

“So you always wanted to be valedictorian?” My tone gives away my repulsion.

“Naturally,” Villicus answers on Pilot’s behalf. “The moment I saw the darkness surrounding this boy, I knew only I could be his Guardian. And I swiftly determined his PT.”

“
To use deceit, ruthlessness, and dishonesty to get ahead
,” Pilot says, reciting his PT. “Very Machiavellian. My father is so proud. Wrap your true intents in a fluffy white cloud of nobility, and nobody, not even you, with your
I’m-looking-closer
PT, will question it. Add to that a sob story about your dad being disappointed? You’ve got the makings of a successful life.”

“A successful life under the mentorship of Mephistopheles!” I fire.

“Mr. Stone has a bright future in politics,” Villicus says. “What better mentor than I?”

Together, Pilot and Villicus snort out a few laughs. Gritting my teeth as I watch, I make a pact to myself. To beat them at their own game. Whatever it takes.

“Explain how Miss Merchant fits into your PT, boy,” Villicus commands.

“Easy,” I interrupt. “Our entire friendship was a lie.”

“There’s a little more to it than that.”

Pilot explains how, since arriving here last year, he’s been publicly lying about having no PT in order to give himself a competitive edge—to trick everyone into revealing their PTs so he could use those against them.

“Like a snake in the grass,” I spit.

“Like a successful politician. Don’t take it personally, Annie.”

“Why me? Why befriend me and turn on me? You could’ve done that to anyone.”

A blush washes his face, bringing a bashful grin with it. “Honestly? You started out as a favor to Harper.”

“Harper?”

“Before you came here, Villicus told everyone about you so we’d know you to see you. You were someone we had to keep a secret from, until the day you finally croaked, which…?” He looks from me to Villicus, who shakes his head, confirming that I am still alive in California. Pilot rolls his eyes, as if my coma is
so annoying.
“So we knew your story. We knew about the art shows you had.”

“Ha! There were no art shows!” I say, throwing what little I can in his face. “That was a lie my dad told to get me in here.”

He and Villicus exchange another glance.

“You were in a coma for two years, Annie. A gifted art prodigy who might die any second? Art investors ate that up. Like any artist, you’re worth more dead than alive. There
were
art shows. A half-dozen. Your piss-broke old man needed the cash to keep you in the hospital.”

I cringe at how lightly they throw around life and death.

“Knowing that, Harper saw you as her biggest threat. The first day she saw you slutted-up in your little uniform, she thought you might join her clique, where she could destroy you slowly like Plum and the others.” He smiles wistfully. “Then I told her your PT, and she realized you’d be no good in her group. So she told me if I could just keep you out of the running for the Big V—which she thought I was out of, too—she’d keep me in constant…Well, let’s say I don’t have to worry about dying a virgin.”

“You lied to me so you could get with Harper?”

“I lied to you for my PT. Harper was just a perk.”

How I’ve failed at my own PT. Why did I blindly accept his friendship? The only other “friends” at Cania are the members of the Model UN from Hell. Yet I believed Pilot and I were friends. Stupidly, foolishly believed it.

“So every time we skipped class together,” I continue. “And every time you said you hated what the competition was doing. And every time—”

“Lies,” Pilot says, cutting me off. “All lies. So many you don’t even know about.” Sucking his cheek, he gives it some thought. “Oh, you thought I came here after I died trying to rescue a girl from a fire, right?”

A shiver runs down my spine.

“Not so. I set her house on fire while she slept. She thought she was so hot. Never looked at me once at school. But that night, when I stood in her bedroom with the flames I’d set all around us, she saw me then.” He smiles at the memory before noticing my expression. “Come on, don’t act like you’re new to the world of deceit.”

“Me?”

“You led me on. And then I saw you with Zin on the beach tonight.”

“That’s hardly comparable.”

“Since you bring up the topic of Mr. Zin,” Villicus interjects. He tosses a vial at Pilot, who catches it and turns it over, reading the label.

Pilot groans. “I’ve always hated that name.
Ebenezer
.”

Ebenezer? It’s Ben’s vial?

Then, out of nowhere, another vial is flying—this one in my direction. Fumbling, I nearly drop it. Just before it hits the flames, I close my fist around it. Turn it over. Read it.

“Pilot Aaron Stone,” I whisper.

“Now then,” Villicus says, curling his lips into a snarl, “it’s time the two of you sorted out an exchange.”

Pilot glances up, his eyes suddenly watering. How quickly his emotions have changed.

I, on the other hand, feel like I’ve finally got a shot at this game. I know what cards are on the table. That puts me light-years ahead of where I’ve been since arriving on Wormwood. If I’ve survived this long in the dark, surely I can do that much better now that I know what’s up.

“This is your chance to shine, Mr. Stone,” Villicus says.

“Why not
her
vial?” Pilot asks, looking confused. “Why his?”

“The girl wants her vial destroyed. But she’d be heartbroken if Mr. Zin were to vanish from the earth. And you, of course, want yours.”

“Let’s talk this out,” Pilot says, relaxing his tone as he turns to me. I see the old Pilot in his expression, as if he, like Mephistopheles, has masks he can put on and take off at will. “I know what you must be thinking, but if you throw my vial in the fire, Annie, you’ll kill me. And I’ll have no choice but to kill Ben, too.”

“If you’re fast enough.” The audacity he has, trying to manipulate me again, to prey on my emotions.

“I don’t think you could live with my blood on your hands.”

“My mother almost killed me,” I retort coldly, ignoring the flash of pain that splits my forehead at the thought of her. “I can live with a lot. And, Mephistopheles,” I turn to Villicus, “I don’t care about Ben’s vial. I only care about mine.”

That shuts Pilot up. Villicus looks impressed.

“Perhaps
selfishness
would have been a fine PT for you,” Villicus says.

Pilot searches my face—a poker face that would thrill Molly—and then Villicus’s, looking for a hint if not an answer to the dilemma he’s been placed in. My only prayer is that I figure out what to do before they figure out I’m bluffing.

“Let’s just do a pure exchange,” Pilot suggests. “On the count of three, we hand each other the vials and be done with it.”

“I already told you,” I say, “I don’t want Ben’s vial.”

“So I could throw it in the fire?” Pilot dangles Ben’s vial over the flames.

“You could. But it would leave you empty-handed, which wouldn’t give you much bargaining power. If I were you, I’d stop trying to make an exchange with me and figure out how to get Villicus to give you my vial. That’s the only way you’ll get me to give you yours.”

Glowering, Pilot turns to Villicus, who looks as disappointed in him as he once pretended his own father was.

“Mephistopheles,” Pilot begins, bowing respectfully, “I ask you for the vial of Anne Merchant in exchange for the vial of Ben Zin.”

“He’s never gonna go for that, Pilot,” I interrupt. “You need to give him something of
greater
value.”

I’m outplaying Pilot, which Villicus doesn’t seem to be missing.

“If you don’t pull up your socks, Mr. Stone,” Villicus says, “I will insist that Miss Merchant expel you promptly.”

“But this little game wasn’t part of our plan, Guardian!” Pilot whines.

It strikes me then that they’re distracted. Villicus is frustrated and growing angry with his supposed prize pupil, and Pilot is wracking his unimpressive mind for a worthy exchange. And here I stand, temporarily forgotten. The door is just beyond them, and it’s still wide open, thanks to Pilot.

They’re holding Ben’s vial. I’ve got Pilot’s. I don’t have mine—but I know now that I’d rather give Ben his and let him decide his fate than escape so selfishly. And I can use Pilot’s for leverage, if it comes to that. First, I need to get Ben’s vial. To do so, I’ll have to run through the fire to scoop it from Pilot’s hand. Quickly. While they’re distracted.

Without another breath, I go for it.

I dash through the flames. I throw my hand out, and instantly my side is consumed by a hellish blaze that shocks my system. With a loud
whomp,
the flames ignite my clothes and my hair. Running on adrenaline only, I grab Ben’s vial out of Pilot’s fist.

I leave him and Villicus dumbfounded behind me.

With both vials, I run toward the still-open door. Fast. Faster than my stunned body, now in flames, can comprehend. I am a human torch, racing to the doorway in three long strides. Bursting into the dark night, into what has become a torrential hailstorm with buckets of rain that douse my clothes and hair. I glance at the vials in my fists. They’re still intact. My skin, though, is bright red.

“Help me!” I scream as smoke pours off me. The dorms are filled with parents. Surely one will hear me and help. Or the Coast Guard! They were around here hours ago. “Somebody help!”

I zoom like a bat out of Hell. I should run to Ben’s, give him his vial. But Pilot is after me, racing and screaming at me. If I change direction, if I even look back, I’ll be caught.

“Help!”

With everything in me, I claw at the air as if that might pull me forward. My feet slide over the slick grass. But miraculously, I stay upright. I bolt across the quad and behind Goethe Hall. The cliffside comes into view. My heart pounds furiously. My voice is gone. My head can’t keep up with what’s happened—with the cold vials in my hands and the heat on my skin—so I go on autopilot, blasting through the parking lot, blasting forward and up. Up. Through the brush that tries to hold me back. Up. To the top of the cliff.

With a quick glance over my shoulder, I see the lights in a half-dozen distant dorm rooms. Silhouettes stand at the windows. And, in the second I look, I see them, one by one, draw the shades.

No one will help me. Not against the likes of Villicus. Not when he holds such power.

Turning back to the hill, I almost lose my footing when I catch a shadow racing, slithering by at lightning speed. Pushing harder, I grunt to force myself up the hill, knowing Mephistopheles will be waiting for me.

I burst into the rocky clearing.

Whirling, I spy Hiltop. She’s replaced Villicus, who is just one of Mephistopheles’s characters, the one that could reasonably pass as a headmaster. Hiltop is perched at the edge of the cliff, standing motionlessly, hands folded, watching me like a bird of prey waiting for its catch to expire. Behind her, the infinite waters are gray, vast, furious, and filling with ice.

“Nothing good will come of this,” she calls to me. “I still have your vial back at Valedictorian Hall. Come with me, Anne, and we’ll make a small exchange for it.”

Before I can respond, someone shoves me from behind. I collapse, nearly dropping both vials. I rush away and, holding the vials to my chest, look up through the sleet at Pilot. My eyes flick between an unflinching, deceptively normal Hiltop and a scarlet-faced, infuriated Pilot.

“You
bitch
!”
he bellows, his face distorting in his rage, thick rain flooding it in unholy streams until he’s unrecognizable. “Give me my vial
now
!”

But before I can holler back at him, he flies at me. With a shriek, I roll away, barely escaping him. I land within feet of Hiltop. My scream fills the air at exactly the same time Ben, soaking wet, appearing from nowhere, sees Hiltop standing over me, and hurls his body at her. The two wrestle and tumble to the cliff’s edge, tearing at each other as I scream Ben’s name. Without a moment to spare, Ben catches a thick, exposed tree root and clings to it. Hiltop slides soundlessly by him, over the cliff’s edge, and out of sight.

I scramble to my feet.

I back away from Pilot, who’s lumbering toward me. His eyes bulge as he homes in on the vials I hold.

“Give me…my vial.”

I stumble over a loose branch at my feet and, livid, grab it quickly, swinging it at him. “Stay back!”

“Give it to me,” Pilot snarls. He doesn’t care about the branch or the pain it could inflict. He’s invincible. The only way to hurt him is to destroy him. “Annie, you know the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you.”

“The
last
thing?” I repeat, rain washing my face. “It still made your list.”

At once, Ben’s at my side. Running entirely on willpower has left me so jerky, I nearly fly out of my skin when he wraps his arm around me. As he takes the branch and swipes it boldly, powerfully at Pilot, my exhausted body collapses against him.