All That Lives Must Die - Eric Nylund [293]
The students so called then walked or limped to the front of the auditorium. (Lilly had to be pushed up in a wheelchair.)
How humiliating. It wasn’t bad enough they weren’t graduating, but Miss Westin had to parade them up in front of everyone?
It had to be especially hard for Donald van Wyck, who had been expelled earlier in the year. They must have brought him back just for this ceremony.
Mr. Dells moved to them. He looked apologetic . . . but that didn’t stop the Gatekeeper from marching the more than two dozen ex-students to the door, ushering them through, and then escorting then across campus one last time.
Eliot wondered if Donald and the others were the lucky ones to be leaving. They could do whatever they wanted now—no more gym classes that could get you killed or maimed, and no more insane competition.
And yet, as Eliot looked back on this year he realized he’d learned so much about his music, his magic, his and the other magical families. Even Mr. Ma’s sadistic class had helped. If Eliot hadn’t been in shape, hadn’t been exposed to the cruelties of mock battle in gym—would he have survived the real war in Hell?
“Class catalogs and other information will be sent within the week,” Miss Westin continued. “Feel free to browse and prepare for next year’s courses. Registration materials will also be sent for those of you joining us for the summer session.” She removed her octagonal classes, and almost as an afterthought said, “And for the rest of you, enjoy your vacation.”
The surviving freshman class let out a collective sigh, and there were whoops of joy—and then they all broke into smaller groups, excitedly chattering to one another.
“We made it,” Fiona said with as much enthusiasm as if she’d just commented on the weather.
“Until next year,” Eliot replied.
Parents entered the ballroom, hugging their sons and daughters, clasping hands, and enjoying the moment. Apparently the Paxington rule about only students and instructors allowed on campus had been lifted today. The Scalagaris were easy to spot in their tailored suits and chiseled Italian features. There were some of the Dreaming Families here as well—Pritchards and Rhodes and De Marcos, all sporting Rolexes and looking literally like a million bucks.
Eliot wished Audrey or Louis were here to share this. Okay, his mother and father would probably kill each other on sight—that was beside the point.
But even the Covington clan had a gathering here today—old men in kilts, and all of them laughing uproariously at Jeremy as he told a joke.
Fiona’s jaw clenched as she saw him; her hands curled into fists . . . but she said nothing.
She’d been so withdrawn since they’d come back from Hell. In fact, since Sealiah had declared Eliot an Infernal Lord, Fiona had said the absolute minimum to him, like: get out of the bathroom, and move and we’re going to be late, and other various grunts that had meant yes or no.
Dante Scalagari broke from his family and moved to them. He straightened his sports jacket. “Congratulations,” he said, “both of you. I’m here for my cousin, Gina, but I couldn’t help but intrude when I saw you. That first day of school, I thought you wouldn’t make it. Now you’re the talk of the entire school!” He smiled and actually looked impressed.
Eliot was about to explain that technically they hadn’t graduated yet. They still had to pass Miss Westin’s makeup final. Instead, he just said, “Thanks,” wondering what would impress a Scalagari upperclassman.
“Going to Hell and back to rescue a team member?” Dante continued. “You two are legends now.”
Eliot and Fiona shared a look of shock. That was all supposed to be secret.
Then Eliot spotted Jeremy laughing across the room.
Of course. Jeremy would’ve told everyone and probably claimed that he led them heroically to Hell himself—defending them at the Gates of Perdition at great risk to his life.
A group of girls came up to Fiona, surrounded her and gushed