The Unseemly Education of Anne Merchant (42 page)

“Stay back, Pilot,” he bellows over a thunderclap.

“This has nothing to do with you, Zin,” Pilot fires, shirking away but stealthily, on guard, continuing to close the distance. “I just want what’s mine—my
life
!”

When Pilot lurches at him, Ben brings the heavy branch down on his shoulder, sending him reeling back. We watch Pilot collapse to the ground, where he writhes in pain.

“I’ve got his vial,” I explain feebly to Ben.

“What are you planning to do with it?” he asks me.

Shaking my head, I feel my throat choke up. I clench my jaw, but there’s no stopping the tears. “All this time, Pilot was lying.”

Ben holds me closer. “I know. I saw his PT. Why do you think I hated him so much?”

Feeling myself growing fainter every moment—and loathing myself for it—I look into Ben’s eyes and add, with a small smile, “I’ve got yours, too. It’s your chance to escape.” The shiny silver label is soaking wet on his vial as I hold it up to him.
Ebenezer Joshua Zin.
“I’m going to stay on Wormwood. My dad will work for Villicus. And, Ben, if you want to join Jeannie, this is your chance to do it. To free yourself.”

“And leave you now that I’ve found you?” Ben smiles sadly. “I won’t let you sacrifice yourself for me. You still have a real life to lead. Your dad deserves to have you with him.”

Before I can argue, with a grand
whoosh,
Hiltop swoops over the mountainside, over the cliff. She comes crashing down to the earth with a tremendous rumble. Behind her, Pilot gets to his knees and slowly to his feet.

With a gasp, I stagger back; Ben keeps me stable, but barely.

In one unnaturally fast move, Hiltop plucks Ben’s vial from between my fingers. I cry out, but Ben doesn’t even flinch. I search his face urgently as Hiltop backs away and smiles. I know that the only leverage we have now is Pilot’s vial, but that doesn’t feel like enough. Just as I’m about to offer
anything
Hiltop wants in exchange for Ben’s vial, Ben shakes his head softly at me. He’s anticipated my next move, but he won’t let me sacrifice myself for him.

“Are you ready to go, love?” he asks me.

That word,
love.
Could he mean it? If we’d had a chance, even a small chance to be together, would there have been a future for us?

“No. I’ll stay.”

I need to stay with Ben as long as I can. Even if it means living under the cruel tyranny of Villicus. Even if I can feel myself fading. Even if, every time I blink, I wonder if I’m not about to open my eyes in that hospital room again.

“Just give me my vial, Zin,” Pilot stammers furiously. “And Hiltop will give you yours.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Ben pulls me into the warmth of his body, shielding me, and turns to Pilot and Hiltop, who are both uncomfortably close. I can hear Pilot’s heaving breaths, smell Hiltop’s rancid odor even in the rain. Bit by bit, Ben inches us away, through the sleet, to the cliffside. “I’m going to stay here, and Anne’s going to go back to the life she deserves.”

“To free her, you’d need to destroy her vial, Zin,” Hiltop reminds him. “Are you planning on running back to the hall?”

When we’re just at the edge of the cliff, when my back is to the water, when I’m forced to stand on my tiptoes to keep from tumbling into the hungry, howling waters, Ben reaches into his jacket with his free hand and pulls out a single vial. I make out its label:
Anne Elizabeth Merchant.

“When you all raced out of Valedictorian Hall,” Ben says, with the smallest hint of that crinkle-nosed grin I love, “you forgot to lock up.”

Ben has my vial. I have Pilot’s.

Hiltop has Ben’s. She locks her gaze on mine and, knowing what’s about to happen, mouths to me, “
You’ll be ba-ack
.”

And then it all happens in a blink. Ben wraps me in his arms, holds me against his chest, and leaps with all his might into the air. The ground disappears from under our feet. With that, Ben and I are soaring, flying, leaving Wormwood Island behind. Ben will return, but I won’t. Not the way Hiltop wants me to.

We leave Pilot behind. He watches in horror, waiting for his vial to hit the water just as I’m waiting for mine to hit, for his second life to end just as mine will. I have somewhere to wake; I have no idea what will become of his spirit once his vivified body is destroyed.

We leave Hiltop behind. She’ll still have Ben and Dr. Zin, but she’s just lost me and my father. With a piercing cry, knowing she’s been outsmarted, she raises her leg and sends it crashing into the cliff, splitting the thick rock in two. She disappears into the gash, returning to where she came from.

And Ben and I? We fall, fall, fall blissfully toward the water.

Everything slows. The spinning of the world. The rushing of the sleet and hail. The crashing of the waves. There’s nothing more than Ben and me. In spite of everything, I’m smiling. So is he. But as slowly as time is moving, there’s not a spare moment to talk, to say everything I need to say as I feel this temporary body of mine fade the further we drop. Soon, I’ll be gone. When I wake in California, it will be for good this time. I’ll have left Ben behind to continue a life he hates, and I’ll have to trust that it was the right decision—at least until I can find a better way. Alive and awake in California, I’ll be able to do more than I can dead and trapped at Cania.

But now.

Now, as we fall.

Now, as our eyes lock and we cling to one another.
Now
is my chance. I won’t waste it this time. I press my hands to the back of his head, marvel at the endlessness of his green eyes, pull him to me, and softly—ever so softly, as our toes near the ocean—lower my mouth to his. The softness, the indescribable warmth of his lips. It’s perfect torture. Perfect, as he leans into me with all his strength, with more desperation than I could have imagined, and steals my breath. Torture, as I feel my body weaken, anticipating my end. We plunge into the icy sea, squeezing our eyes shut and opening them in the unexpectedly calm water beneath the waves. The force of the water tears us apart, tears me from this world, tears me from the only boy I’ve ever kissed.

Waking now is nothing like when I woke in this hospital bed hours ago. I know where I am now. I know what’s happened.

But it’s more than that.

Waking now, I find my father’s chair empty. He may have left with the doctor. He may have gone to find some new method of waking me—maybe an ice bath in which he can shock me awake. I don’t know.

Waking now, I find I am not alone, however.

It takes a moment for my eyes, wet with tears, to focus on Teddy’s face hovering over me. But as soon as I register that he’s here and what that must mean, I see, to my sickened surprise, that his thumb is on the plunger of a syringe. A syringe filled with a clear fluid. A syringe that juts out of a tube planted in my arm. On my bedsheet, in stark contrast to the white of it, are three vials filled with my dark red blood, which he must have taken while I slept.

“Don’t speak, and don’t protest,” he whispers to me. His thick German accent is gone. His tongue doesn’t seem to slither as it once did. “Your mother was here earlier. She had more to say to you, but there was no time.”

“How can you know that?” I ask with trepidation. There’s something very odd about his behavior and his countenance. His gaze connects with mine. The anger, lust, and violence once contained in that gaze have vanished. His expression is borderline kind.

“Pentobarbital,” he says matter-of-factly, gesturing to the syringe he holds and ignoring my question. “It’s for medically induced comas. I’ve arranged to have a nurse on staff keep you in constant supply.”

“Stop. How did you know about my mom’s spirit visiting me here?”

“It’s part of the plan.”

“What plan? Please, don’t do something you’ll regret. Let me—”

“You, too, are part of the plan. The biggest part. Which is why you must return. Your time at Cania Christy isn’t over yet, Anne. Everything in your life has been building to this. We need you.”

Whatever this is, it’s happening too fast. “Who’s
we
? You and Mephistopheles? What do you plan to do with me?”

“I am
not
aligned with that monster,” he states, holding my gaze until it’s clear to him that I believe him, which takes some time. His thumb begins to depress the syringe. Voices outside grow louder.

“Wait!” I plead. “You said my mom had more to say to me. What was it?”

Swiftly and with a brief apology, Teddy injects the plunger.

As I slide defenselessly back into darkness, I feel him sweep the vials of my blood from the bed and I hear him whisper, “Your mother trusts me. You should, too.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’m forever indebted to my editor, Glenn Yeffeth, and his brilliant team at BenBella. To Jason Anthony, my persevering virtuoso of a literary agent, thank you for reinventing the word
dedicated.
To Lance, you are a gift to me. To Tina, Sarah, Paul, and Jake, to Nana, and to Angela, thank you for filling my life with the most complex characters. Thank you to my teachers: Greg Hollingshead, Bert Almon, Janice Williamson, Tom Wharton, Mrs. Shukin, and Mr. Fred. To my favorite teacher, Dad, I wish you could be here for this. Above all, my love and humble gratitude to the Great Teacher. And to you, dear reader, my full and heartfelt thanks.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joanna Wiebe
is a graduate of the University of Alberta’s Honors English program, where she received the James Patrick Folinsbee Memorial Scholarship in Creative Writing. She lives in Victoria, British Columbia, with her partner, Lance.
The Unseemly Education of Anne Merchant
is her first novel. Find her online at
joannawiebefiction.com
.