Where the Drowned Girls Go(Wayward Children #7)(38)

“Your work?” Miss Lennox stared at him. “You stripped our free will and kept us as prisoners. Carrie doesn’t even recognize me!”

“Of course not. She isn’t … that name you said. She’s one of my matrons, interchangeable, serene. Ready to serve. I’ll have words with my standin. He’s supposed to know better than to disrupt the pattern. I’m so sorry. You should never have needed to suffer this way.” The headmaster took a step forward. “It’ll be over soon.”

There was a choice to be made here. Sumi had asked the nameless girl to find out how the names were being taken, where they were being stored—even why the real headmaster was hiding himself. The nameless girl wasn’t sure how many of those questions she could answer, but she knew she could get more answers than she had so far. She could learn.

Or she could help.

For a moment—just a moment—she closed her eyes and thought about Bright, the curve of her smile and the cupped shape of her ears, which were closer to a mouse’s than a human’s, covered in soft fur, like velvet, and so sensitive that she had come apart under the nameless girl’s hands every time they held each other. She thought about running through secret tunnels hand in hand, about the taste of mushroom cutlets and glowing caveberries, about feeling like she had a future, not just a frail and fading memory of one.

Bright would understand. If there was ever another traveler, and that child somehow knew the story of the girl who’d lost first her name and then her chance at coming home, Bright would understand.

The nameless girl opened her eyes and shoved the ceiling tile away at the same time. It landed on the floor with a clatter. The headmaster turned to stare at it, then looked up at the hole in the ceiling. He was so focused on it that he didn’t notice when another tile moved aside above him. The nameless girl dropped out of the opening, landing on his back and wrapping her arms around his neck, cutting off his oxygen supply.

“Run, Miss Lennox!” she howled. “Run now!”

And Miss Lennox, to her credit, did. She grabbed Caroline by the hand and raced for the door, leaving the other matrons behind. The headmaster clawed at the nameless girl’s arm, trying to break her grasp. She ground her teeth and held on fast, refusing to be dislodged. Her size helped her. She was stronger than anyone expected her to be, denser than she looked, and her grip was strong: he couldn’t get the leverage to throw her off.

“You stole their names,” she spat, voice close to his ear, where he couldn’t help hearing her. “You kept my name from finding me. I don’t know why you’re doing this and I don’t know who you are, but you’re a monster, and I hate you.”

The headmaster choked and wheezed. The nameless girl held on tighter. When he finally dropped to his knees, when he finally fell, she kept holding on, until she was absolutely sure that he was unconscious, not just faking. Then—only then—she let go and staggered to her feet, turning to stare at the blank-faced, motionless matrons all around her. None of them seemed to have noticed, or to care, that two of their number had fled; none of them seemed bothered that she had just choked a man to unconsciousness in front of them.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and turned and fled, out into the hall, along its silent length and around the school’s many corners until she reached the familiarity of her dorm.

The door was open. Miss Lennox and her still blank-eyed companion were standing in the hall outside; Sumi and Cora were standing in the doorway.

“Please, you have to believe me,” said Miss Lennox. “It isn’t safe for you here. It isn’t safe for any of us here. The headmaster—he wants to seal the doors forever. For the sake of the world. He’ll never let you leave.”

“What about the graduations?” asked Cora.

“Graduates forget,” said Miss Lennox. “As soon as they step off of school grounds, they forget, and they think they were sent here because they’d had some sort of breakdown. The ones who won’t let go of their doors never graduate.” She shuddered. “When I was a student, I wondered what happened to them. I don’t have to wonder anymore.”

“The headmaster’s a wizard,” said Cora.

“He’s a monster,” said Miss Lennox.

“We’re not the only students here,” said Cora.

Miss Lennox shook her head. “We can come back. We can find people who believe us, other travelers who didn’t wind up here, and we can come back, but we can’t stay, and we can’t save everyone. Not right now. Not with the resources we have.”

“We have a way out of here,” said Sumi. “But I don’t know if you can take it. You’re older than eighteen.”

To the nameless girl’s surprise, Miss Lennox laughed.

“That’s just a number, Sumi: it doesn’t mean anything. People say it’s when you become an adult, but that isn’t universal. You’re Japanese American. In Japan, the age of majority is twenty. So when do you get too old to open a door?”

Sumi looked impressed. “How did you—”

“I’ve heard ‘we keep them until the doors lock’ more times than I care to count, and I am telling you, age means nothing. Age is experience, not absolution. If you’ve found a way to pry open a door, I will go through it, and I will survive whatever’s waiting there. We both will. Now please. We have to go.”