Petra K and the Blackhearts (13 page)

We arrived at what was the old science classroom. There, candles had been lit and incense burned in pots. A chair—no—something more like a throne, sat in the center of the room. To this seat I was brought. I sat down and the group joined hands around me, singing their strange song. Then the equipment-room door was thrust open, and from it marched Tatiana. In her hands she carried a wrapped package. As she approached, a smile broke out on her face. The room had gone silent, my classmates prickling in anticipation. Tatiana held the box out to me.

“Happy Birthday,” she said warmly as I accepted the gift. Everybody went quiet as I opened the box. Inside I found a black shirt and pants—a uniform of the Boot Youth Guard, along with an armband with a guard insignia: a golden sun.

“You will get your official Youth Guard pin after initiation,” Tatiana informed me. “Now try on the uniform.” I changed into the black slacks and stiff-collared shirt. They were a little big, and felt a bit like wearing pajamas.

“Perfect,” said Margo, ignoring the poor fit. I became self-conscious because everybody was gazing at me with adoring, if not expectant eyes. I was exhausted and had no idea what was expected of me. Should I salute? Fortunately, the moment did not last too long. I noticed that a few of the girls’ eyes began to droop. Lapis quickly descended from the ceiling and flapped his wings in their faces, giving each a firm slap. Alert again, they reoriented themselves, then carried on as if nothing had happened.

“Playtime!” Sonia shouted from nowhere.

“Playtime,” the others resounded in chorus. “Quick, we will be late.” And, with that, they hustled me off to another classroom. To my amazement, there was Miss Kavanova, standing at the chalkboard, also dressed in a Boot uniform. She too looked like she suffered from lack of sleep, her dark eyes peering out like pits in a prune. If she recognized me, she gave no hint of it.

“It’s me, Miss Kavanova, Petra K,” I said.

The class erupted in a nervous laughter. She calmed them with a stern look. “It’s OK,” she said. “You were like that as newborns as well.”

“My name,” she said to me, “is Agent One O’ Clock.”

“It is Miss Kavanova,” I countered. “We already know each other.” I should have kept my mouth shut. This time the class didn’t giggle, but went quiet instead. Miss Kavanova approached me, and as she did the room appeared to darken, or maybe it was just my sudden fear that I had made a terrible mistake. She stood over me, then cracked the ruler down on my desk. “Count off, class!”

“Youth Guard Agent One Ten,” yelled Margo, standing up straight.

“Youth Guard Agent One Twenty,” yelled Sonia. And so it went, each one calling out their names.

“I am the hour One O’ Clock,” repeated Miss Kavanova. “And you are all my minutes.”

“What minute will she be?” Tatiana called out.

“Well,” considered Miss Kavanova, “I think we should name her One Fifty. Then we have an hour.”

“Yeah,” the class cheered.

“One Fifty it is,” said Miss Kavanova. “Circle around me.” The class did so, like numerals on a clock. I saw my place at the fifty-minute mark, and took it.

“Lucky class,” Miss Kavanova said. “Today we will show our birthday girl a presentation.” The class broke out in excited whispers. “Yes,” said Miss Kavanova. “Prepare! You know what to do! It is the story of Monarch Trymosyn and the Twelve Alchemists!” No sooner had she spoken than Tatiana and Sonia ran to the back of the classroom and pulled a small puppet stage to the front of the class. Others busied themselves behind the stage, giggling in excitement. The curtains of the room were drawn and a candle was lit.

“Now, Agent One Fifty, pay close attention,” instructed Miss Kavanova. A marionette dressed in the old costume of a Pava commoner dropped onto the stage. All eyes were trained on the puppet narrator.

T
HE STAGE WENT DARK
, and the class roared its approval, and Miss Kavanova threw a handful of fool’s gold coins at the stage like a tip. Tatiana and the other players came from behind the stage to receive applause.

“Is all that true?” I whispered to Bianka.

“Of course,” she said. “Unless it is not. The only important thing is that Number One Play Pal wants us to honor the memory of the alchemists. As we should.”

T
HAT NIGHT WAS THE FIRST TIME
I was allowed to sleep. We were all bunking together in beds set up in a former classroom. I don’t know how long I had been dozing, but it couldn’t have been for more than a few hours when I was awoken abruptly by somebody shaking me. It was Bianka.

“You were calling out in your sleep!” she said. I immediately stiffened. What had I said?

“Katalin K is fine. Everybody has dreams like that at first. You will forget in time. It happened to all of us.”

“Where are your parents?” I asked.

“I have no parents,” she responded automatically. “I am but a minute in the hour. The hours belong to Archibald. He is our day and night.” She must have seen the apprehension in my face, because she continued.

“The people who raised me are in the marshes somewhere in the south. I have not seen them since the Ministry of Unlikely Occurrences saved me from the dragonka fever. But time moves forward, not backward, so I do my best to forget about them.” I could see Bianka feared even mentioning her parents: she had looked around to make sure nobody was listening before uttering that statement. I too followed her gaze. But something was amiss. The room was empty. Where there had been six full beds when I lay down, there were now five empty ones.

“Where is everybody?”

“That’s actually why I woke you. To come and get you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For the
real
play,” she responded, her eyes widening.

“I want to go home,” I said. “I don’t want to play.”

“You won’t make it past the gate,” she answered. “Think of this as your home from now on.”

“I can’t,” I said quietly.

“Petra K,” she said, using my real name. It was the first time anybody had done so since I was taken away. “If you don’t want to play, then
play along
. That’s all I am going to say.” I got the message: not everyone was as obedient as they appeared in the Youth Guard Facility. I dressed in my starchy uniform and accompanied Bianka out of the room and down the hallway. We arrived at the gymnasium, where she turned the door handle and slowly opened the door. We tiptoed in. In the middle of the room were the rest of the girls. They stood in a circle, just like they had been in class, only now there was somebody other than Miss Kavanova in the center.

It took me but a moment to realize it was Jasper, tied to a chair.

I
didn’t know what to do. Jasper was undergoing some kind of torture. The girls each wore long robes and held daggers, which they were waving in front of Jasper’s face. “
Play along
,” repeated Bianka, whispering in my ear. “For his sake. For everybody’s.” It was then that I noticed, in the back of the gym, flickering in and out of the darkness, the shaded shapes of figures, observing the exercise. I could barely make them out; they were like oily slicks against dark waters.

We joined the circle in our corresponding places. Nobody glanced at us—we were expected. Suddenly Jasper’s eyes caught mine; they widened in recognition, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. I imagine he thought I was his only hope. It relaxed him, for some reason. He stopped struggling against the ties that bound him. When this happened, Tatiana approached Jasper from behind. She covered his mouth with a handkerchief, which must have contained a sleeping agent, because he passed out within seconds. Tatiana patted his forehead, as though in affection. I had no idea what was going on, but there was no way I could have been prepared for what happened next. Sonia
stepped forward. In her hands was the mask of some strange animal. She slipped it over the boy’s head. It was then that I realized it was a dragonka mask, made of wood and painted with blazing green and yellow, with sticks sharpened to spike like fangs, tipped by drops of red blood.

Tatiana, meanwhile, was undoing his ties. When she finished, she rejoined the circle. Soon, Jasper began to twitch, as though lost in a terrible dream.

“Rise,” Tatiana commanded. Jasper twitched with greater agitation, then lifted himself shakily from his chair. The dragonka mask made him look like some sort of monster. From a side room, a new boy was led into the gymnasium by another troop of Youth Guard, some of whom I recognized from the upper grades at the Pava School.

“Are you ready to play?” the senior representative of the other troop asked Tatiana.

“Yes,” she responded.

“Then let’s begin the heart-to-heart.”

Pylons were set up around the room, and when the leader of the other troop counted down from five, the other boy entered the ring. With a jab from Tatiana’s finger, Jasper was pushed into the ring as well. I could see now that it was meant to be some sort of fight. The other boy, who wore a bright red dragonka mask, approached Jasper, his arms outstretched like a monkey about to beat its chest. He grabbed Jasper by the shoulders and tried to throw him to the ground. Jasper, who appeared fully awake now, resisted. He attacked back, and soon they were rolling around the ring, trying to wrestle each other into submission. All the spectators cheered them on, making imaginary bets. I could not help notice how similar our game was to the dragonka competition, except we were playing with people.

They fought fiercely, throwing one another to the ground, pounding each other with their fists. They paused between bouts, panting, rubbing their sores. But, in the end, Jasper overcame the
other boy. The beaten child lay still on the floor. A chant began to rise from the audience. “Play! Play! Play!” they yelled. Tatiana came into the ring and presented Jasper with a long bone-white dagger. She then pointed to the heart of the other boy. Without pausing, Jasper raised the knife.

“Stop!” I screamed.

Everybody turned to face me. It was quiet as a graveyard, until Jasper dropped the knife. I opened my mouth to say something. Tatiana just looked at me, shaking her head. A rustling sound came from the back of the room: the shadowy figures were moving about frantically. I turned and ran from that place. As I ran down the corridor, I could hear the flapping wings of Lapis behind me. I tried to outrun him, but it was not possible—he shadowed me from a short distance over my head. I burst through the school door, and made my way through the gardens. I stumbled over bushes and roots, seeking the wrought iron fence, which I knew I could scale. All the while, Lapis flew stealthily above. I saw the fence ahead, but right before I reached it, a cloaked shape rose in front of me, like a dark spirit rising from a grave. It was one of the figures that had been hovering in the dark of the gymnasium. It had followed me, and indeed gotten ahead of me. I jumped for the fence, but before my hands found the top, the shadow captured me and folded me in its foggy arms, and like a butterfly that had been netted and etherized, I was instantly lost in blackness and the smell of camphor. I fell into unconsciousness. I remember nothing more from that night.