15
THE BLACK-LIGHT ANGELS were fading at last from the center of Laurence’s vision, but he still felt concussed. He shivered, and not just because they’d locked him in an equipment closet stark naked. How many times had they dropped him on his head? He couldn’t think—his head was full of iron filings, but also the panic overtook him every time he tried to pull back and look at the outlines of his situation instead of the details. This closet had a dead bulb, and he kept thinking he heard someone creeping up behind him in the dark. Every time he shifted position, his balls touched the icy floor.
Today was supposed to be the day that Laurence’s “trial visit” ended and he went back home. But Commandant Peterbitter had called him into his office and said that in light of some unpleasantness at Canterbury Academy—Laurence’s “girlfriend” had done a Satanic ritual and threatened a teacher—everybody thought it might be best if Laurence just stayed on indefinitely at Coldwater. Forever.
Someone fumbled with the door handle outside, and Laurence instinctively curled into a lump, protecting his head. He wasn’t ready for the next thing yet.
“Laurence?” A girl’s voice. Laurence looked up and saw Patricia in the open doorway, along with an older African-American man in a deerstalker hat. “Crud. You’re naked.”
“Patricia! How did you find me?” As he stumbled to his feet and tried to cover up, he felt a flicker of relief at seeing her silhouette, and gratitude that she had come all this way, before the dread came crashing back in. They couldn’t see her here, or he’d just get punished worse.
“Your dad finally broke down and told me what they did. And I heard one of these cadets say the ‘new guy’ was in the closet. Everybody’s doing war games or something out back, but I don’t know how long they’ll be gone. We have to get you out of here. Here, take this jacket. It’s actually Kanot’s. This is Kanot, by the way. He’s a witch too, but his main skill seems to be sarcasm.”
The tall man—Kanot—waved, then went back to looking at his phone with a bored expression on his face.
Patricia was holding a Red Sox jacket to Laurence. He almost took it from her, but he tried to imagine running away half-naked with Patricia and her friend. And after that … what would he do? He couldn’t go home, his parents would just send him back here. He couldn’t go to the science school if he was a dropout. What school on Earth would let a homeless runaway study physics?
“I can’t.” Laurence shrank back from the jacket. “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” His head was still crashing, and his stomach churned.
“Wow, they really did a number on you.” Patricia leaned forward, inspecting his bruises in the light from the hallway. “Laurence, it’s me. Your friend. I finally have an invite to the secret school for witches where I get to learn all about magic, but I blew it off to come and rescue you. Because Mr. Rose made it sound like you were going to die. So come on.”
Laurence thought about the flag at half-mast. MRSA in the Isolation Hole. They could make it look like an accident.
“I can’t just run away.” Laurence covered his face with one hand and his junk with the other, equally ashamed of both. “What future will I have if I run? You should just go. If they see you here, I’ll be in worse trouble.”
“Wow,” Patricia said again. “If that’s how it is … Good luck, Laurence. I hope everything turns out okay for you somehow.” She turned to leave and started to swing the door shut again, returning the room to total darkness.
“Wait! Don’t go.” Laurence started quaking again, worse than ever, as the door closed. “Come back. Please. I’m sorry. I do need your help. I feel … I feel like I’m starting to give up here.” He could barely stand to hear himself snivel. He groped for the words to explain the sick feeling of being on the conveyor belt to a furnace. “I can feel myself … letting go. Trying to fit in and … and ‘lose the attitude.’ I can feel it working.”
“So let me help. What can I do?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t. I can’t just run away. I don’t know what else to do. So unless there’s some magical thing you can do…”
“I still don’t know how to do anything. And Kanot made it very clear on the ride here that he won’t get involved.”
Kanot shrugged, without looking up.
Laurence rubbed his bruised occiput with both hands, no longer even trying to cover himself. “I can’t even think clearly,” he said. “I wish I knew someone who could do something, like hack into the Commandant’s computer from outside. Or just get this whole damn school shut down. They won’t even let me near the computers in here.”