로그인XavierThere was a long table with twelve chairs, and my father was sitting in the third one.I saw him through the open door from the corridor outside the Governors’ room, at noon, before the clerk said a word.The clerk had found me in the library ten minutes before. He stood at the end of my table in his neat coat until I looked up, and then he said, “Your father.” That was all. He turned, walked away, and I followed.I had seen him once before, at two in the morning. Last night, when the Clerk’s door opened behind me, he had stepped out into the corridor in his shirtsleeves. He looked at me for a long moment, then bent down to pick up Daphne’s envelope from the floor. He had said “Goodnight,” and shut the door.He hadn’t said anything else. And he also didn’t talk about it now. He walked a little ahead of me the whole way and didn’t look back once.I had not told anyone. I had not even told Gideon, Rafael, or Eliano. The numbers 2:10 were still on the back of my hand in pen. I had
Mrs. Bellarie I held the ring of keys so hard that when I opened my hand, the iron had left a red line across my palm.I closed my hand again. Nobody needed to see that.It was seven in the morning, and the east gate was cold under my fingers. Mist sat low on the road outside. Behind me the school was very quiet. Something bad had happened, and everyone in it was waiting to hear what came next. The Pentagon had been cleared at midnight. The candles were stubs in the gutters. The Governors’ room, which the students had broken into at nine, had been found empty, with twelve chairs pushed in neatly at a long table.I had been Headmistress of Wolford for seventeen years. In seventeen years, nobody had ever told me to open a gate.At six o’clock this morning, the Board’s clerk had knocked on my door in his neat coat and handed me a single sheet of cream paper. I had read it standing in my dressing gown.Unlock the east gate at seven. Receive the visitors. Make no announcement.At the bot
Xavier There were twenty-four windows along the dorm wing, and twenty-three of them were dark.I stood in the yard below them with my hands in my coat pockets and counted them again. Twenty-four. The lit one was on the top floor, at the far east end, where the girls’ corridor stopped. Behind it was the small office with the brass plate on the door that said Clerk. The Board’s clerk had slept there since Tuesday, since the notice went up. His lamp had been on every night.I could not sleep. Gideon was asleep on top of his blankets with his boots on. Rafael had come back from the Pentagon at midnight and had not said one word about his father, and none of us had asked. Eliano was awake, but he was lying with his face to the wall, and I did not want to make him talk.So I had come down to count things. Counting is what I do when I cannot fix what is wrong.The crowd had rushed the Governors’ room at nine. The door had held. When Pruitt’s patrol finally got it open, the room was empty an
Rafael Mrs. Pruitt took the lectern in both hands, and for a moment I thought she was going to fall.She was old. Everybody knew she was half blind, because she held letters an inch from her nose and walked the corridors with one hand on the wall. She had climbed the Pentagon steps one at a time while the whole school shouted at Albert’s window. Nobody had noticed her until she was at the top.The lamp in Albert’s office was lit. He stood at the glass with his hands at his sides. Students had been yelling at him for an hour. Liar. Coward. Where is she. A boy near me had thrown a candle stub at the wall below the window, and it had bounced off the stone and gone out.Then Pruitt put her hands on the lectern, and the shouting stopped. It stopped out of surprise. She was the last person anyone expected up there.Over her arm was a coat. It was a man’s long coat, dark wool, old and worn at the cuffs, much too big for her. Even from the wall, I could smell a little smoke in the cloth.“I’
The Hunter I sat in a parked car with the engine off and counted twelve sets of tail lights.They were lined up along the drive behind the iron gates of the Governors’ estate, long black cars with the lamps of the drive shining on their roofs. Twelve cars. Twelve drivers in dark caps. Men in house coats carried cases down the steps and put them in the boots, one car at a time, and nobody hurried.I was across the road, under the trees, with my seat pushed back and a blanket over my knees. I had been there since four. It was dusk now, and the cold was coming up through the floor.Two guards stood at the gate. A third walked the inside of the wall every twenty minutes. I had timed him on my watch. He was late once and then early, which told me he was bored.A driver near the gate laughed and said something to another one about an early start and a school full of brats. Then the other driver told him to shut up, and he did. I wrote down “school” in my notebook and put a line under it.W
ElianoMy father stood between the two chairs in the gatehouse.The porter had taken his cap off the hook and gone out the moment he saw us. The room was small. It had a desk, a board of keys, a kettle on a ring, and two hard wooden chairs that nobody had ever cared about. Through the window I could see the black car at the gate with its engine running and the driver looking straight ahead.From here, nobody in the Pentagon could see us. That was why I had brought him in.“You came back,” I said.“I was asked to.” He took off his gloves one finger at a time and laid them on the desk. “The people I sit with are tired of this noise.”“It isn’t noise. It’s just two hundred students.”“It’s two hundred students who will be back in class by Thursday.” He said it calmly, in the same voice he used to order wine at dinner. “The vigil will be over. It will be handled quietly, and nobody will be hurt, if nobody is stupid.”I kept my hands behind my back, the way he had taught me when I was six.







