Jones moved to her desk, took out a solar-powered metronome and started it. It produced a regular ticking sound that helped us stay on pace as we wrote. Two hundred words a minute was the goal. At my best, I produced two hundred and twenty-five. I opened to a clean page in my notebook.

“We’ll be transcribing the Compromise,” Jones said. “Whose turn is it to read?”

Covington raised her hand. “I believe it’s my turn, Teacher.”

“Fine.” Jones glanced down, checking her notes. “Begin with the preamble.”

As Covington read, I dipped ink and started writing.

Traaaitor.

I dropped my quill. The whisper had been as clear as a bell. When I looked around, however, no one appeared guilty. To my left, the Vine Keeper hadn’t moved. I turned to glare at Covington. Reciting, she didn’t look up. The twins were bent over their desks keeping pace with Covington’s sentences. East Keep, a wiz at dictation, looked bored. That left Jetson, who would never deride me—not on purpose.

Liar.

I jerked and shook my head. The voice hung in the air like sour breath.

Traaitoor. Liar!

Robin’s ravaged face flashed into my mind. The image caught fire and curled on the edge. I jammed a fist against the knot in my stomach. The black book in my pocket burned my thigh. I regained my quill and, as Covington droned on, my hand moved over my notebook of its own accord. After a moment, I looked down. In the middle of the blank page, I’d written a name—Senator Cobane. Biting my lip, I wrote it again in bold black letters. I underlined it twice, drawing wings above and beneath it. I dipped ink and wrote it again and again and again. I don’t know how long the dictation exercise lasted and I did not hear Jones transition to the next part of class. When the last bell rang, however, the pages of my dictation notebook were full.

I dropped my quill and sat back, breathing heavily. My writing hand was smudged with blood where my callouses had rubbed away. Looking down at my palm, I clenched my fist. It should have hurt, but I felt nothing. I touched my face. It was numb too, like an icy wind had blown in to freeze it in place.

From my seat, I watched the new kid leave. Covington and East Keep followed him out. At the door, they turned and shot me hateful glares. Mechanically, I packed my bag.

What did I owe the Vine Keeper or the others, anyway? What had they ever given me? I had to take care of myself.

Jones stopped me on my way out. “Arika, a word.”

A glance told me we were alone in the room.

“You’re to return the materials I lent you to my inbox no later than midnight Monday. Is that clear?”

I heard myself answer. “Yes, Teacher.”