Pretty is frivolous, I chided myself. A fear of rejection.
I was waiting to be summoned into a spare bedroom that Sofia used to treat ailing guests. An exam table with leg stirrups stood in the center, surrounded by three rolling cabinets packed with medical supplies. In the corner were crutches that had never been used. Teacher kept the medicines in a locked cabinet in her office. No one could say Wisewood was unprepared in case of an emergency.
I pressed my ear to the door, heard shuffling and hushed tones, but nothing that would give me any clues. I wished Teacher would tell us ahead of time what our quests were; not knowing bred anxiety. Probably this was a pre-quest test. We had to be unafraid before the q’s and during them.
A quiet knock at the door made me jump.
“Kit,” a voice said. “Knock back when you’re ready.”
I stood tall and thumped. On the other side was Sofia, buzzing with excitement. Behind her the room was dim, lit by a handful of candles. I stepped inside.
They had moved the exam table to the front of the room. Pillows covered the rest of the floor: two neat rows of three. On each pillow kneeled an IC member: Gordon, Ruth, and Debbie in the first row; Sanderson, Raeanne, and Jeremiah in the second.
“Kit, welcome to your q2. You will now begin”—Sofia paused dramatically—“the Quest of Pain.”
My insides heaved.
“Throughout life we all suffer emotional pain, but there is physical pain as well. Pain is a fact, an inevitability.” Sofia cocked her head. “Or is it?”
She leaned uncomfortably close. “Want me to go first? I’d die to take mine again.”
All I could manage was a terse shake of the head.
Sofia shrugged and handed me a kernel of plastic. “You’re supposed to put this in your ear.”
“For what?” I examined the earbud before sticking it in my right ear.
“Just in case. I need you to get on my table now.”
My entire body trembled. I climbed onto the exam table and lay on my back.
“Pain is a choice,” Sofia said to the rest of the group. “Research has shown that pain is exaggerated by fear. If you’re relaxed and believe whatever you’re about to go through won’t be painful, then you’ll feel none or only a tiny fraction of the pain you’d experience if you were afraid. Therefore, the key to ridding ourselves of pain is to first face our fears.”
Sofia lowered her voice. “Roll onto your stomach.”
I flipped over and rested my forehead on the backs of my hands. Sofia washed up at the sink in the corner, then pulled on latex gloves.
Have you lost your mind? Nat popped into my head. Get the fuck out of there.
A different voice filled my right ear. “What on Earth is Jeremiah doing?”
Teacher.
I lifted my head and glanced at my peers on their knees. In the second row Jeremiah wobbled. I couldn’t answer Teacher even if I’d known what to say—I only had a receiver, no microphone. I pictured her sitting in her office, Mom’s scarf wrapped around her neck. She’d started to wear it daily.
Raeanne flashed Jeremiah a dirty look, leaning out of his path as he swayed toward her. “For Pete’s sake.”
“Dude, are you okay?” Sanderson said, brow wrinkled.
Jeremiah tipped forward onto his hands and knees. “Sorry. I need a minute.”
“Do you have low blood sugar?” Sofia rushed to his side.
He waved her off. “I get squeamish easily. Don’t worry about me.”
Sofia lit up. “A quick dive in the ocean would revive all our spirits.” She peered around for any takers, found none.
“We need to stick to the plan,” Gordon said.
“How we gonna do that if this lily liver passes out?” Raeanne grumbled.
“Leave him alone,” Ruth warned as she squeezed Debbie’s shoulder—the cook was watching Jeremiah with tears in her eyes.
No-touching rule, I thought involuntarily.
“Ignore me and keep going, guys,” Jeremiah said.
I might have found such a dramatic reaction panic inducing, but he didn’t know what was coming either. He’d never been to a q2.
“Ask him why he hasn’t attempted his own Quest of Pain yet,” Teacher said. I bit my lip. The last thing I wanted to do was kick my friend while he was down. “Don’t you want to help Jeremiah on his journey toward fearlessness?”
“Why haven’t you done your q2 yet, Jeremiah?” I asked.
He glanced up, surprised, face ashen.
“Point out he’s been in the IC longer than you have,” Teacher said.
Why was she making my q2 about Jeremiah? This was supposed to be an opportunity for me to take another step closer to my Maximized Self. Couldn’t she and Jeremiah have this conversation during a one-on-one? What was the point in shaming him?
“Do you want to hinder his work on the path? Can you live with yourself if all that hard-won progress is lost?”
“You’ve been in the IC longer than I have,” I said just loudly enough for everyone to hear. I prayed they all knew this was coming from Teacher. Surely Jeremiah understood I wanted to get this over with as much as he did.
“Don’t speak until he answers,” Teacher said.
The silence that ensued had to be more painful than whatever Sofia was planning. No one stirred. Jeremiah stared at me. In a thin voice he said, “Because I’m . . . scared.”
“Perhaps he doesn’t belong in the IC after all.”
I laid my forehead back down, praying Teacher would let this go.
“Say it.”
I mumbled the words. “Maybe he doesn’t belong in the IC after all.”
“Don’t get smart with me. You may be my favorite today, but that doesn’t mean I won’t punish you tomorrow.”
Heat spread across my cheeks and neck. I wanted to get back to the quest.
“I warned you about him,” Teacher said after what seemed like a lifetime. “Tomorrow you tell Jeremiah that if he’s thinking of abandoning this community, I have no problem sending the video of his q1 to his former employer.”
I stifled a gasp. The day after my initiation, I had confronted Jeremiah about his admission. How long had he been cooking the books? Did anyone at his company know?
He’d gazed at me sadly. “I thought you knew me better than that by now. I made it up, Kit. I bet at least half of those confessions were exaggerations—or straight-up lies—to outdo each other. To win points with Teacher.”
Half of me was relieved I wasn’t the only one who had embellished their secret. The other half was disappointed—were we freeing ourselves from judgment if our transgressions were invented? What was the point?
“Carry on,” Teacher said in my ear.