Sophie shrugged, hoping she looked casual. “I ran into one a few weeks ago and he said he used to go to Exillium.”
He shook his head. “If this is a crush thing, you can do better.”
“It’s not a crush thing,” Sophie said, ignoring Keefe’s snickers. She realized it was going to take a little more “truth” to coax out the right answer, so she added, “I think he might be part of some sort of rebellion.”
The boobrie dude flinched, and she knew she was onto something. Especially when he said, “Stay away from him.”
“So you know who I’m talking about?”
“I’m pretty sure I do, though I couldn’t tell you his name. And he’s even worse than the Shade. Anger at the Council is pretty standard around here, but I remember thinking, ‘This guy could spark a revolution.’ And given the strangeness I’ve seen in the Territories . . .”
“What strangeness?” Sophie asked, her heart officially in thunder mode.
“These are dangerous questions,” he said. “The kind that could get you ejected—or worse.”
“It’s wrong to want to know what’s happening in our world?” Sophie asked.
“You don’t have a world anymore. You’re banished.”
“She’s just trying to settle a bet,” Keefe jumped in before Sophie could argue any further. “I bet her that the guy was lying about being at Exillium to sound tough, so she’s trying to prove me wrong. And my leg feels all better now. Thanks.”
The boobrie dude didn’t look convinced by Keefe’s excuse. But all he said was, “Both of you need to get dressed.” He pointed to new pants and boots at the foot of their beds and lowered a curtain between their beds to give them privacy. “The Coaches are ready to mark you.”
“Mark us?” Sophie asked, trying not to picture a dog marking its territory.
“Yes. It’s time for you to learn your place in Exillium.”
FORTY-THREE
THE BOOBRIE DUDE escorted them from the Healing Tent to a stage under a golden canopy, where the three Coaches stood in their colored robes in the center of the platform. The rest of the Waywards were lined up in front, in neat rows with their arms at their sides, like soldiers.
Sophie searched the crowd for the rest of her friends, but the hoods and masks made it impossible to recognize anyone. The only distinguishing marks were colored handprints on their sleeves—either a red handprint on their left arm, a blue handprint on their right arm, or a purple handprint on both arms. The colors corresponded to the Coaches’ robes, and also to the three tents set up in the remaining corners of the campus. The canopies reminded Sophie of the pictures she’d seen of celebrity weddings, with raised peaks in the middle and silky panels of fabric flapping in the strong mountain winds. The tent on the right was deep blue, the left tent was ruby red, and the center tent was royal purple. The Coaches stood in the same order, each holding a bowl of matching paint.
“Since these two have taken it upon themselves to delay today’s lesson with their accidents,” the red Coach said in her raspy voice, “we will be skipping lunch and switching today’s skill to appetite suppression.”
Every Wayward groaned, and Sophie was pretty sure she was officially the most hated girl in school. Fortunately, that was familiar territory.
“And now, for your marking,” the red Coach said.
The blue Coach stepped forward and faced Keefe. “Your immediate, impulsive action—despite being foolish—made it clear that you belong in the Right Hemisphere.”
He dipped his hand in the paint and smacked Keefe’s right arm, leaving a blue handprint on his sleeve.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Keefe asked.
“Very much,” the blue Coach said.
He moved back to the other Coaches, and the purple Coach stepped forward, handing Sophie the bowl of purple paint.
“Your indecision to act, as well as your unconventional solution, made it clear you are neither right nor left, but Ambi.” She dipped both of her hands in the purple paint and marked each of Sophie’s sleeves.
Sophie stared at the purple handprints, wishing she wasn’t being separated from Keefe. The Coaches dismissed the crowd, and she hoped she’d find at least one of her friends at the purple Ambi tent. But there were definitely no friendly faces. A few Waywards even tried to trip her as she walked past.