“Please, take a seat.” Professor Holt waves me into the faded armchair across from her.
I sit, wishing I could have found a plausible reason to stand, since I had the advantage of height and the ability to run. Sitting with my bag on my lap, I am very aware of being at the mercy of Professor Holt and the University if the answers I give are not correct.
Professor Holt leans back in her chair and asks, “Have you been experiencing any problems in your classes or with your internship?”
The subject matter catches me off-guard. I blink twice and consider her seemingly innocuous words. After being assigned to the Government studies program, my fellow students and I were given class schedules. I was assigned nine classes—the most of any first-year student. Failure to keep up with the course load is monitored closely. Some students who struggled have already been Redirected out of the University. According to my guide, Ian, I have been watched more carefully than my peers for signs of difficulty. There was something about me that Dr. Barnes and Professor Holt found troubling long before my untracked disappearance from campus this morning. Something that goes back to The Testing. Even with my returned memories, I have not been able to puzzle out what that something is. And not now, with Professor Holt staring at me, waiting for an answer.
My admitting my workload is difficult could give her an opening to doubt my abilities as a student, but saying I am managing my schedule with ease is a lie. One she will certainly call me on. Without understanding her agenda, I carefully say, “It’s a challenge to keep up with all of the work, but I’m determined to succeed.”
“I’m sure you are.” Professor Holt’s smile fades. “Damone Pyburn was determined as well, but he appears to have vanished from campus. He has not been seen since last night. When your friends could not find you, I was concerned you might have disappeared as well.”
Her eyes flick to the bracelet on my wrist. A sure sign that my whereabouts were never in doubt. I wonder if Damone’s bracelet is currently able to be tracked and if Professor Holt knows he is at the bottom of the chasm that surrounds this building. Or does the tear in the earth go too deep for her and Dr. Barnes to trace with a short-range transmitter?
Giving her an embarrassed smile, I say, “I apologize if I caused anyone to worry. I had some questions about a project I’m working on and decided to go to the president’s office to get some answers.”
If Professor Holt looks for the lie in my words she won’t find one.
Nodding, she says, “I appreciate your dedication to your studies, as I’m sure the president does. And, of course, you left before I requested that students remain in the residence so that I could discuss Damone’s unusual disappearance with all of you individually. So, you had no way of knowing that you went against my explicit instructions.”
“I would never have left had I known I was instructed to stay on campus.”
Her lips purse. “Well, now that you’re back, perhaps you can tell me whether you had cause to speak with or spend time with Damone Pyburn before he went missing.”
I consider my words carefully as I say, “Despite our being on the same team during Induction, I don’t know Damone very well. He made it clear that he wasn’t interested in being friends with colony students, so we rarely if ever spoke.”
“And yet you saved his life—twice.”
Only to end it later.
I stifle the urge to shift in my seat and say, “It was the right thing to do for my team.”
“And you always do the right thing.”
“No,” I answer honestly. “Growing up, I was taught that it’s impossible to know what the right thing always is. The best you can do is to try to do what you think is right for yourself and the people around you.”
Professor Holt stares at me for a minute as if trying to read hidden meanings in my words. Finally she says, “I have been told that you were absent from the residence twice today.”
Blood pounds in my ears. Cautiously, I nod. “I went into the city.”
“The first time was with Raffe Jeffries. Yes, I spoke with him earlier. He gave me an account of your outing. Perhaps you’d like to give me yours.”
What to say? I do not know the explanation Raffe gave Professor Holt for our leaving campus. If my answer does not match the one he gave, Professor Holt will question everything I have said thus far. And I have used my internship to cover my journey to the city this afternoon. I can’t use the same excuse for Raffe and me going out this morning.
Hoping Raffe didn’t tell an elaborate story, I say, “Raffe knows I haven’t had much of a chance to explore Tosu City. We ran into each other before breakfast and he volunteered to show me around.”
Professor Holt tilts her head to the side. “What time did you and Mr. Jefferies meet?”
Breakfast starts at seven-thirty. “Around seven, I think.” Most students don’t get up on the weekends until after the allotted time for breakfast has already begun, so the time I quoted gives less of a chance for her to question why other students didn’t see us. I can only hope the logic Raffe used to give his answer was the same I employed to create mine.
“Are you certain that time is accurate?”
I’m certain it is not, but I cannot change my answer now. Instead I force a laugh and say, “It might have been just before or just after. I wasn’t watching the time all that closely.”
“Mr. Jefferies said the two of you planned to meet this morning, but you implied it was a spontaneous trip.”
I feel color fill my cheeks and I clutch my bag as my mind races, trying to decide how best to explain the discrepancy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone hovering in the doorway of the common room. Turning, I lock eyes with him. His long dark hair frames his pale face and deep green eyes.
“Do you need something, Mr. O’Donovan?” Professor Holt asks. Her tone is clipped, indicating her displeasure at being interrupted.