Night School: Legacy

‘She’s just,’ Allie gasped, crying with laughter, ‘such a bitch.’


That sent them off again. They were still giggling as they walked up to the registration table a minute later, but Allie’s smile faded when she saw Zelazny sitting rifle straight, flipping through papers on the table in front of her.

‘Sheridan. Patel,’ he barked, glowering at them. ‘Keep it down. Patel, here’s your course schedule and reading list.’

‘Thanks, Mr Zelazny.’ As she took the papers from him, Rachel’s tone was just a little too polite to be believable.

‘Sheridan,’ he snapped before Rachel had finished thanking him. ‘Your schedule.’ Allie started to thank him but he fixed her with an icy glare. He continued, ‘You have been assigned extra-curricular classes this term. You are expected at twenty-one hundred hours tonight. The location is on your sheet. Tardiness is not acceptable.’

Glancing at the paper, Allie saw the words ‘Training Room One’ scrawled across the top. A cold finger of fear brushed her spine. She wasn’t taking PE, and she’d signed up for no extra activities. There was only one reason they would want her in a training room.

It’s all starting, she thought. It’s really going to happen.


Just after noon, Allie raced into the dining hall, stopping suddenly as a wall of noise hit her. The room was packed. The tables were all evenly spaced, filling it from one end to the other. Each surrounded by eight heavily carved chairs. The noise made by the mass of exuberant students was daunting.

Jo was waving at her enthusiastically from a table near the massive stone fireplace.

‘Over here!’

Allie made her way across the room to the table where Jo sat ignoring the students around her, none of whom Allie recognised.

She patted the empty seat next to her. ‘I saved you a place so you wouldn’t starve. It’s mad in here.’

Feeling a bit stunned, Allie swung her arm to take in the room.

‘Where did they all come from?’

Jo laughed. ‘I know! How different is this from summer term? The place is packed. The cheeky buggers even took our table.’ She pointed at the spot in the middle of the room where they usually sat, now occupied by fresh-faced fourteen-year-olds eating in awkward silence. ‘I didn’t have the heart to move them.’ Jo’s smile was beatific. ‘They’re just babies. I’ll get Lucas to break the news to them later. Gently.’

‘You mean you’ll have Lucas threaten them,’ Allie said, sliding into her chair.

‘Of course.’

Mindful of Rachel’s belief that Jo was faking normality, Allie had been watching her closely for days, but she seemed completely herself – bubbly, chatty, silly – just as she always was.

Maybe Rachel’s overreacting.

Jo dipped her spoon into a china bowl filled with soup of an oddly deep red colour. ‘As long as they’re out of there by tomorrow they get to live. How’s it going with you anyway?’

‘What is that? Tomato?’ Allie was still trying to figure out Jo’s soup.

‘Yes, but I think it has beetroot in it.’ Jo wrinkled her pert nose. ‘It’s the colour of carnage. And it tastes of dirt. Or maybe poison.’

Cimmeria’s kitchen staff were usually good but sometimes their experiments didn’t work out. Nonetheless, after taking half a sandwich off the tray in the middle of the table curiosity won out and Allie ladled some of the soup into a bowl. Dipping a spoon in it, she sniffed its contents suspiciously before taking a careful sip.

‘I don’t think it’s poisoned,’ she said.

‘Oh good. Still,’ Jo nibbled her sandwich, ‘I’m not taking any chances. Hey, what’s your course schedule like? Are you in my classes?’ She held her hand out, palm up. ‘Hand it over.’

Allie shoved the last quarter of the sandwich into her mouth and dug around her bag until she found the white slip of paper.

‘Here,’ she mumbled through her food.

‘You’re such a lady,’ Jo said, then she squealed with excitement. ‘We’re in three classes together this term! History, biology and French. This is awesome.’ She blinked at Allie over the top of the paper. ‘I wonder if I could convince Isabelle to move us together for everything. I could promise to be good. For the first time ever.’

‘You’d get sick of me,’ Allie said. ‘I snore.’

‘That is so not a surprise.’ Jo handed her schedule back.

‘Hang on,’ Allie said looking up from her soup, ‘how can we have French together? I thought you were in advanced French?’

Jo leaned over to pick up her bag. ‘I think you’ll find that you, too, are in advanced French, ma petite chou.’

‘No way.’ Allie looked at Jo with suspicion.

‘And in advanced history, biology and English.’

‘No. Way.’

Jo rolled her eyes. ‘Allie, haven’t you looked at your own timetable?’