Where the Drowned Girls Go(Wayward Children #7)(23)

A matron stepped out of the shadows next to the door, wrapping an arm around Sumi’s middle so tightly that the air was knocked out of the smaller, girl, leaving her gasping, still laughing, drowning gleefully on dry land. She kept laughing as she was hauled away, as she was slung into the plain white room of solitary to think about what she’d done.

They might not be going home, but they weren’t going to stay here. Sumi was sure of it.

Eventually, her laughter burned itself out. It was a sudden blaze, not a sustained bonfire; it could never have lasted. She curled up in a corner of the plain white room, tucking her arm under her head, and fell into an uneasy doze.

But Cora: ah, Cora. Cora had always been a runner, and this time, she didn’t run. She helped Regan back to her chair and stood, placidly silent, until the matrons came and dragged her to a plain white room of her own. Eventually, she fell asleep, and there were no shadows here, no corners for the Drowned Gods to claim and colonize.

She was dreaming of the open sea when a sudden shock of icy water splashed across her face. She sat bolt upright, clutching the thin blanket she’d been given around herself.

The headmaster looked down at her, the empty glass still held in one hand, and shook his head. “You were doing so well, Cora,” he said. “What in the world made you stand by while your friend assaulted another student?”

“She made us late to breakfast,” said Cora. “You always say punctuality is a virtue, and she made us less virtuous. So when Sumi hit her, I didn’t stop her. Instead, I did what you said and turned my back on weakness.”

“And why did you barge into a room where you had no business being, when you were meant to be escorting Miss Onishi to my office?”

“We heard—I mean—” Cora stopped, trapped between her pretense of turning her back on weakness and admitting her sympathy for Regan.

“I see.” The headmaster nodded slightly, seeming to read her thoughts in the same way he had seemed to on her first day. “I hope you understand that I am very disappointed in you.”

Cora bit the inside of her cheek. The headmaster’s disappointment was like a chain around her throat, dragging her down to where the Drowned Gods still waited, singing their poisonous songs. Desperately, she blurted out, “Where is Regan? Where is Sumi?”

“Miss Lewis and Miss Onishi are spending time in quiet contemplation while we review their respective educational plans,” he replied with a cold smile. “They may each require a bit more … specialized help in the future.”

“No!” Cora couldn’t stop herself; she couldn’t stand to pretend anymore. “Can’t you see that you’re hurting people? Don’t you care?”

“Did you forget why you came here, Miss Miller? The sing ing of the sea in your ears? The rainbows on your skin?” The headmaster grabbed her wrist, turning it so that her palm faced the ceiling. “They’ve faded, but they haunt you still. How could I allow you to leave before they disappear? How could any caring guardian allow their students to continue carrying the weight of such a delusion?”

Cora shook him off. “I’m a student. Not a prisoner. I refuse to trade one monster for another.”

“If we’re monsters, so is Miss West.”

Cora went very still.

The headmaster smiled, almost sympathetically. “We’re sister schools. One can’t exist without the other. Yes, we have our share of involuntary enrollments—but really, how many of the students at your last school were consulted before they were shipped away by parents who no longer understood them? How many of them got to choose? You think of Miss West fondly because she gave you what you wanted to have, she told you what you wanted to hear. We’re as much on your side as she ever was.”

“I came to you voluntarily,” said Cora. “Regan didn’t. You’re not setting her free. You’re hurting her.”

“It’s true that Miss Lewis never had the benefit of choosing her education. But your Miss West never taught you how to fit into this world, either. She let you wallow in regret, knowing that most doors never reappear. Her way, my way, it doesn’t matter. You’re part of this world now, Cora. You’re not going back to your underwater fantasyland. You were a hero, and now that’s done, and you’re a teenage girl again. You need to learn to live with that. Someone has to teach you.”

“I didn’t ask you to teach me,” said Cora. “I asked you to free me.”

The headmaster smiled that terrifying smile. “But you did, Miss Miller. You asked me to teach you how to forget. You enrolled here because you wanted to forget the monsters, and you will, oh yes, you will. You have so much more to learn before you leave us. I’ll free you from your gods and monsters. All of them.”

“You … you are a monster,” said Cora, almost wonderingly. “You’re hurting the people you say you’re trying to help. You’re a monster in a hall of heroes, and we’re going to defeat you. That’s what heroes do. We beat monsters, no matter how much it costs us.”

“But that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” said the headmaster, crossing to the door and opening it with a simple twist of his wrist, like it was nothing, like freedom was a toy. “You’re not heroes anymore. Not here. It’s time for you to accept that you aren’t going to win. This is a world without heroes, and you’re here.”