Graduation Day (The Testing, #3)(15)

For a moment we just look at each other. Enzo watching me for signs of agreement. Me waiting for . . . I don’t know. Something that tells me he really is on my side. That he is not repelled to know I am responsible for taking a life. That he can be trusted to aid me if I see no other way to end The Testing than to follow the president’s command.

Whatever he sees on my face must be enough of an answer because without another word, he turns and leaves me standing under the willow, struggling to think through what he has told me. Is it safe for me to stay, or should I pack my bag and run now while I still can?

Part of me wants to flee. If I could talk to Zeen, I know he would tell me to run. But he still isn’t answering. I want to believe that he hasn’t been able to find a place isolated enough to contact me. To think otherwise would shatter me. My brother is smart and resourceful. I just have to be patient. But I cannot wait to hear from him before formulating a plan. If I were to run, Tomas would go with me. The two of us are resourceful. We would have a greater chance of survival than most. Our survival of The Testing proves that. Running would mean I wouldn’t have to face the choice I have been given.

For a moment I look at the bridge. I imagine what it would be like to leave behind this place and everything I know. Then I turn and walk to the residence. Because there is too much at stake. I might not be able to stop what is to come, but I cannot leave without trying, or without learning what has become of my brother.

The sight of two officials in ceremonial purple greets me as I walk through the entryway of the residence. Enzo is nowhere to be seen. The minute the officials see me, the one on the left takes a step forward and says, “Malencia Vale?”

I try to keep the concern I feel off my face as I nod.

“Professor Holt asked that you report to her in the main common room once you arrived. She’ll be glad to know you are safe.”

While I am not sure Professor Holt will feel delight upon seeing me, I thank the official for his message. I then head in the direction of the common room, hoping I did not make the wrong decision when I chose to stay instead of run.

I walk down the hall to the large room that we use for residence gatherings, studying, and relaxing in between classes. Professor Holt is seated near the large stone fireplace. Her squared shoulders, her short cap of red hair, and the crimson color of her clothing give her an undeniable air of authority. Across the room, several upper-year students are standing in small groups. It only takes one of them noticing my approach for Professor Holt to turn toward me. Her almond-shaped eyes narrow behind her thickly framed glasses before she turns back to the students gathered nearby. A look from Professor Holt sends them hurrying out the door, leaving the two of us alone.

Forcing a smile, I say, “You asked to see me, Professor Holt?”

I stand motionless while Professor Holt studies me. My heart hammers as I think of Enzo’s words, the lie he swore he told, and the gray paper in my bag. In my mind I picture Professor Holt’s name written in firm black letters beneath that of Dr. Barnes. Would she understand the purpose of the list if for some reason she asked to see the contents of my bag? And what would she say if she saw the gun and the transmitters?

“Please, take a seat.” Professor Holt waves me into the faded armchair across from her.

I sit, wishing I could have found a plausible reason to stand, since I had the advantage of height and the ability to run. Sitting with my bag on my lap, I am very aware of being at the mercy of Professor Holt and the University if the answers I give are not correct.

Professor Holt leans back in her chair and asks, “Have you been experiencing any problems in your classes or with your internship?”

The subject matter catches me off-guard. I blink twice and consider her seemingly innocuous words. After being assigned to the Government studies program, my fellow students and I were given class schedules. I was assigned nine classes—the most of any first-year student. Failure to keep up with the course load is monitored closely. Some students who struggled have already been Redirected out of the University. According to my guide, Ian, I have been watched more carefully than my peers for signs of difficulty. There was something about me that Dr. Barnes and Professor Holt found troubling long before my untracked disappearance from campus this morning. Something that goes back to The Testing. Even with my returned memories, I have not been able to puzzle out what that something is. And not now, with Professor Holt staring at me, waiting for an answer.

My admitting my workload is difficult could give her an opening to doubt my abilities as a student, but saying I am managing my schedule with ease is a lie. One she will certainly call me on. Without understanding her agenda, I carefully say, “It’s a challenge to keep up with all of the work, but I’m determined to succeed.”

“I’m sure you are.” Professor Holt’s smile fades. “Damone Pyburn was determined as well, but he appears to have vanished from campus. He has not been seen since last night. When your friends could not find you, I was concerned you might have disappeared as well.”

Her eyes flick to the bracelet on my wrist. A sure sign that my whereabouts were never in doubt. I wonder if Damone’s bracelet is currently able to be tracked and if Professor Holt knows he is at the bottom of the chasm that surrounds this building. Or does the tear in the earth go too deep for her and Dr. Barnes to trace with a short-range transmitter?

Giving her an embarrassed smile, I say, “I apologize if I caused anyone to worry. I had some questions about a project I’m working on and decided to go to the president’s office to get some answers.”