“You were about to take roll,” Jetson offered. His voice was chilly. “I have the latest list for you, right here.”

It wasn’t until he’d produced a neatly pinned sheet of paper that my preoccupied mind registered his words. My head snapped up and I snatched for the paper—too late. East Keep plucked it from Jetson’s hand and passed it to Covington.

The room went quiet.

According to protocol, Teacher Jones would have had the most current list of attendees delivered to the Secretary’s room—my room—the night before the first meeting.

One twin touched her pointed chin. “But, I thought Arika was the Secretary.”

The other twin tilted her head and tapped an identical spot on her own chin. “Yeah, I thought so too.”

Jetson looked grim. “You’re right, the pair of you. Arika is the Secretary.”

It took them a second to process. “So, why doesn’t she have the roll?” one twin said. Her eyes darted to her sister.

“And why do you have it, instead?”

The answer was obvious. If Jetson had the roll, then he had been to my empty room to get it. He would know I’d lied to him, and he would guess that I’d spent the night in the village.

Slowly, I looked to my right, meeting his cool green eyes. “Jetson, don’t.”

His mouth tightened. “I won’t cover for you. There’s too much at stake.”

“Just trust me, please,” I whispered.

“I did trust you.”

My mouth gaped, but what could I say? He was right. For years, he had been my only ally in a school of sharks. Now those sharks were swimming around me, scenting blood.

“Do tell, Jetson,” East Keep said, her sharp nails snapping along the arm of her chair. “How did you get that roll?”

The twins leaned in, their small ears perked as they waited for Jetson’s answer.

“It must have been from her room.”

“That’s where Jones would have sent it,” they said.

“I was at her dorm,” Jetson confirmed. “I went last night. The roll was by her door.”

A sickness twisted my gut. Once they knew I was in the village overnight, they would fight over the opportunity to report me to Jones. Covington would win that battle. She’d been after me for years. The black book would offer some protection, but how good was the information I had? Would Jones assume I was conspiring with Hosea? Would I be able to convince her of my loyalty? Probably not—not now that I’d stayed in the village all day and night.

“Go on, Jetson, tell us the story,” East Keep said. Her nails clicked.

“I found the roll and knocked,” he went on. “I wanted to hand it to her personally, because she’d been sick.”

I clenched my quill.