The rest of my tablemates thought it was a heroic act, particularly Jonah. Others, like Duncan, thought I was on the verge of making a huge mistake, but none of them would intervene.
“Thank you,” said Jonah. “I mean it. I owe you.”
“We’re in this together,” I said simply.
That sentiment took a few of them by surprise, but the chimes signaling the end of breakfast prevented any further conversation. I successfully smuggled my salt out and slipped it into my shoe when I reached my next class, on the pretense that I was adjusting my sock. As the others filed into their seats, I decided it was best to get this plan going as soon as possible. I wouldn’t let Lacey do my work for me, but I used her now as an accomplice as she sat down in a nearby desk.
“Look, Lacey,” I said, as though we were continuing some conversation from the cafeteria, “I’m not saying you’re wrong . . . just misguided. Until the Strigoi are eradicated, there’s nothing wrong with being civil toward the Moroi.”
To her credit, she caught on quickly and played along. “You weren’t talking about being civil. You were talking about being friendly. And we all know that’s a dangerous area with you and your history.”
I put on an offended look. “So you’re saying it’s not even okay to have a casual meal with one of them?”
“If it’s not for business, then no.”
“You’re being completely unreasonable!” I exclaimed.
Kennedy, our instructor, glanced up from her desk at the raised voices. “Ladies, is there a problem?”
Lacey pointed accusingly. “Sydney’s trying to convince me it’s okay to hang out with Moroi in a personal way outside of work.”
“I never said personal! I’m just saying, if you’re on assignment and have a contact, what’s the harm in getting dinner or a movie?”
“It leads to trouble, that’s what. You need to draw a line and keep things black and white.”
“Only if you’re stupid enough to think they’re as dangerous as Strigoi. I know how to walk in that gray area,” I retorted.
This was a particularly compelling point that Lacey had set up nicely because just yesterday, Kennedy had been using the black-and-white and gray areas metaphors. She tried to interject, but I wouldn’t let her and kept ranting at Lacey. Ten minutes later, I found myself ushered into the purging room. Sheridan looked mildly surprised to see me.
“A little early, isn’t it?” she asked. “That, and you’ve done so well this week.”
“They always backslide,” remarked one of her assistants.
She nodded in agreement and gestured me to the chair. “You know the drill.”
I did. It was as awful as it always was—maybe a little more so since breakfast was so fresh in my stomach. When I was able to throw it all up after the slide show, they sent me to the sink to brush my teeth. The disposable toothbrushes were right next to the cabinet holding syringes. I turned on the water and pretended to spit again, after first glancing back. The others weren’t watching me directly, presumably because they didn’t think there was much I could do in that small room. I started to reach for the toothbrush, planning on opening the cabinet in the same motion.
There was just one problem, and I had only a split second to solve it. How was I going to get the syringe out? My scrubs had no pockets. The syringe was in a plastic wrapper and had a cap over the needle, so I could theoretically slip it into my sock or even my bra without injury. That much motion might attract attention.
A commotion at the door startled me and the others, and we all turned to see two other security guys escorting someone in: Duncan.
He made the briefest of eye contact with me and then began to struggle. “Come on, I was just kidding! It was a joke, for God’s sake.” They tried to drag him toward the restraining chair, and he dug his feet in. “I’m sorry, I’ll never do it again! Please don’t make me do this. It’s been ages.”
I realized then that it was no coincidence he was there just as I was finishing up. Duncan had timed whatever “joke” he’d made so that he’d get carted off and could make a commotion here—a commotion I was wasting by staring stupidly. Quickly, I reached out and took both toothbrush and syringe, slipping the latter underneath my sock while the others were busy with Duncan. I then proceeded to brush my teeth and not act like a friend was about to endure something awful to help me.
Duncan was strapped into the chair by the time I was escorted away. Sheridan shook her head in exasperation. “What a morning.”
When I joined the rest of the detainees in our next class, I saw Jonah and a few of the others from our breakfast table shooting me furtive, curious looks. I gave a curt nod, indicating success, and then spoke to him later when we were filing out of the class. “It’s not ready yet, but I’ve got what I need.”
“I don’t want to rush you,” he whispered back, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. “But I overheard Addison telling Harrison that with all the acting out lately, they should maybe consider taking ‘drastic action’ soon.”
“Noted,” I said.
Duncan showed up to our next class, Conscious and Moral Living, wearing the telltale signs of recent purging. He looked properly contrite, but I got the full story out of him on the way to lunch later.
“What happened to not doing anything stupid?” I asked.
“Hey, I didn’t do anything stupid. I stopped you from doing something stupid. No way could you have stolen that syringe without being noticed. I saved you. Now I hear they’re serving manicotti for lunch—my favorite.” He gave a woeful sigh. “You’re welcome.”