All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [22]
Ever since Fiona severed her appetite, she’d been unable to easily feel anything—except this sudden anger.
She imagined grabbing the desk and throwing it across the classroom and through the window. Destroying everything.
The shadow of Miss Westin crossed her gaze. “Test, Miss Post?”
Fiona’s anger instantly quenched, as if it’d been plunged into liquid nitrogen. Chill bumps crawled over her arms.
“Yes, ma’am.” She handed her the pages and noticed the Headmistress’s hands were slender and bony.
Miss Westin flipped through the pages, barely making a mark until she got to the section on magic—and then she made a flurry of Xs.
It felt like the blood was draining out of her. Fiona wondered if she’d have the courage to stand and walk out of the classroom if she failed. What would she tell Audrey? Or the League?
Miss Westin turned to the cover, scribbled on it, and handed it back.
A fat red C stared at Fiona . . . which looked like it was laughing at her.
“Welcome to Paxington,” Miss Westin said, and moved on.
Fiona stared at the grade. A C was barely passing, and failure by Audrey’s standards. On the other hand—she exhaled—it was apparently sufficient to get her into Paxington.
She turned to Eliot for reassurance, but Miss Westin was grading his test, too.
She finished, leaving Eliot looking confused and worried . . . but also relieved. On the cover of his examination was a C+.
Fiona flashed him her test. “How did you do better?” she asked.
She was happy that he’d passed—Fiona couldn’t even imagine what it would have been like if only one of them had gotten into Paxington—but how had he scored better?
Fiona watched as a girl behind her failed the test, and then two more students, who quickly picked up their bags and shuffled out of the room. Miss Westin was ruthless in her pronunciations to them: “failed . . .,” “insufficient . . . ,” and “. . . you must now leave.”
By the time she and the student proctors finished, one in ten had been dismissed.
Some students murmured: “I heard one girl killed herself last year after she flunked out . . . ,” and “it’s supposed to get really hard now,” and “fewer losers around here—good.”
That last cruel remark had come from the redheaded girl next to Jeremy. She looked inordinately pleased with her test, which she held up so everyone could see her A–.
Miss Westin returned to the lectern.
Everyone fell silent.
“Welcome, freshman class, to the Paxington Institute,” Miss Westin told them. Sunlight reflected off her glasses and made her eyes appear luminous and preternaturally large. “We will now cover some basics.”
She pushed on the blackboard, revealing another blackboard behind it covered with pie charts and handwriting so perfect it made Fiona’s look like epileptic scratches. Miss Westin indicated the title: Mandatory Courses for First-Semester Freshmen.
“All freshmen have two classes their first semester,” she explained. “Mythology 101, in which I shall be your instructor, and gym class, taught by Mr. Ma.”
Mythology? Was that the equivalent of their family history? She and Eliot might actually learn something practical about their world.
But gym class? Calisthenics, running, and softball? The thought of wearing skimpy shorts and a T-shirt and competing with other girls gave Fiona pause. And what about Eliot?
She glanced at him. His glasses had come off, and he looked more pale than normal. He hated sports. He’d always been smaller than boys his age. Cee said he would grow quick once puberty hit, and one day be tall and strong.
Fiona doubted that. Eliot would always be her “little brother,” no matter what.
The redhead next to Jeremy Covington raised her hand. “Ma’am?” She had a Scottish accent as well, but far more refined. “What about electives? Will two courses be enough?”
Miss Westin fixed her with a stare. “These two classes, I assure you, will be sufficient. One quarter of the freshman class fail and do not continue on to their sophomore year.”
The Headmistress pointed to a pie chart and a bell-shaped curve on the blackboard. “Success is based on a strict