“Sydney.” He pointed at my bowl and then his. “Which of you us do you think legitimately needs to ask her for help?”
I looked between them, noting that his could go straight in the kiln now and that half of mine was caving in on itself. “You don’t approve of my plan. I can’t ask you to steal the gum.”
“I don’t approve of illogical plans,” he said. “And it’s much more logical for you to go ask for help. Besides, I need another potter’s needle. This one’s dull.”
“They’re all dull,” I reminded him. Even for the sake of therapeutic art, the Alchemists didn’t leave anything around that might be used as a weapon. “But I’ll go ask.”
Addison always appeared annoyed at being asked questions, but at the same time, I could tell she kept track of who came and asked for help. I was one of a handful that would generally suffer great pains before seeking assistance from our superiors, and I knew some of them viewed us giving in and relying on them as a sign of us breaking down our resistance. So, although she still wore that perpetually unpleasant expression as she smacked her gum, she didn’t hesitate to advise me on why my bowl kept collapsing, and I had a feeling there would be new notes added to my record later on. As I spoke to her, I saw Duncan move toward her desk out of the corner of my eye. I nearly stopped breathing, terrified she’d turn around and see him.
But she didn’t, and five minutes later, when he and I reconvened at our table, he covertly slid me two sticks of gum. “Use it wisely,” he warned. “Or at least don’t do something completely stupid tonight. Please tell me you have a plan not to get caught once you’re out of your room. You know there are cameras in the halls.”
“I do have a plan,” I said hesitantly. “But I can’t tell you.”
“Hey, that’s good enough for me.”
Despite my anxiety over my daunting task, I was still feeling triumphant over this small victory. I was riding on a high and was totally unprepared to be knocked down when Sheridan turned to me in communion time and said, “Sydney, don’t you have something you’d like to tell us?”
I froze and could’ve sworn my heart skipped a few beats. My eyes darted around the circle of watching faces as I wondered which of them had betrayed me. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”
“You’ve been with us for some time now,” she explained. “Yet you’ve spoken very little about your past. Every day, the others open up about themselves, but you keep to yourself. That’s not really fair, now is it?”
I wanted to tell her that it was really none of their business, but I knew I should be grateful I wasn’t on the hook here for more immediate crimes. “What would you like to know, ma’am?”
“Why don’t you tell us why you’re here?”
“I . . .” My earlier cockiness dried up. Masterminding plans to break out of my room by sabotaging the lock so that I could then create magical protection for my fellow detainees didn’t faze me nearly as much as the scrutiny of all those eyes. It didn’t matter how friendly I’d gotten with a few of them. I didn’t want to share my story.
But you have to play the game, Sydney, I reminded myself. It doesn’t matter what you do, so long as you win at the end.
I focused back on Sheridan. “I broke some of the cardinal rules of the Alchemists. I went against our basic beliefs.”
“How?” she prompted.
I took a deep breath. “Because I became romantically involved with a Moroi.”
My gaze stayed on Sheridan. I was afraid to look at the others because even though we were all rebels of sorts, there were varying degrees of sin around here—and mine was pretty extreme.
“Why?” Sheridan asked.
I frowned. “Ma’am?”
“Why did you become romantically involved with such a foul creature? That doesn’t just go against Alchemist beliefs. That goes against the rules of nature. Why would you do that?”
My heart had an answer ready, but I didn’t let it cross my lips. Because he’s wonderful and sensitive and funny. Because we bring out the best in each other and are better people because of our love. Because when we’re together, I feel like I understand my place in the world.
“I don’t know exactly,” I said, trying to find a believable answer that she would want to hear. “Because I thought I was in love.”
“With one of them?” she asked. The tone in her voice when she said them made me want to slap her.
“He didn’t seem like one of them,” I said instead. “He seemed very kind and very charming. He was . . . is very good at compulsion. I don’t know if that’s part of what happened to me. Maybe I was just weak.”
“Don’t you feel ashamed?” she prodded. “Don’t you feel dirty and used up? Even if you graduate from here, do you think any of your own kind would ever want to touch you after letting yourself be used like that?”
That took me aback for a moment because it echoed so closely the fears Carly had once had when justifying why she couldn’t tell anyone about what Keith had done to her. I should’ve given some contrite response, but instead I answered Sheridan with a variation of what I’d told Carly. “I’d hope that whomever I’m with next will see me and value me for the person I am inside. None of the rest will matter.”
Sheridan’s expression turned to one of pity. “I don’t think you’ll ever find anyone like that.”