A Proper Education: Chapter Nine

Credence entered the first lesson of the day in a trance.

She was on edge, and there was nothing that could ease the tension in her bones.

Nothing she could say to herself could calm the roar inside her mind.

Adam said he was missing his shirt.

Penny found it in her breakfast.

It didn't make sense, Adam had been wearing his clothes when Credence spoke to him.

None of it pointed to a happy conclusion—

"Credence," the Headmaster snapped, a bite in his tone.

"What? I'm sorry, Headmaster, I didn't hear you."

"Distracted?"

"It won't happen again."

The Headmaster sighed. "No doubt we've all been a little distracted by what happened several days ago. The incident in the hallway. Let me put your minds at ease. Adam had...a small tantrum. Something he ate disgruntled him."

Your medicine, Credence thought.

"But he suffers from nothing more than an upset stomach. I had him moved to the infirmary, and there are careful eyes on him at all times. I assure you, he will return once he is well. In the meantime, I implore you all to forget what happened and focus on your education."

He broke into a charming smile.

"After all, another Auction draws closer, and soon you will move up in your lessons. Now, isn't that something to look forward to?"

"Yes, Headmaster," the class answered.

He turned back to Credence. "While you were distracted, I was asking everyone to share a dream they've had for their lives. And now it's your turn."

Credence didn't want to share anything. She didn't want to talk to anyone or be in this room. She wanted to find a corner to hide in.

"I don't have any dreams," she lied.

"Surely you've had at least one."

Saving Josiah. Getting revenge for Ma's murder. Watching the towns burn from afar—

"No."

"Think on it very hard."

"I don't want to!"

Every head turned to her. The Headmaster's eyes narrowed.

"What you want means nothing," he said, his voice sharp as a predator's fang. "This is school, where everyone does as they're told."

Credence looked at him for a long moment, fighting him with silence. His patience worn thin, the Headmaster rose from his desk and took a step towards her. He waited, and when it became clear that Credence intended to remain defiant he returned to his desk and opened a drawer.

From it, he pulled two strips of leather.

He wound one of them around his arm before moving towards Credence, and in that simple action the last of her bravery melted like snow above a flame.

She held her hands up.

"Please, Headmaster," she begged, her voice pitching high. "I'm sorry! I'm distracted, like you said—I'm worried for Adam!"

The man stopped but his expression did not soften.

"Go on then," he commanded in quiet fury, "tell us about your dream."

"My dream," she repeated.

She realized she hated him.

It might have been the mysterious, looming threat that kept everyone submissive, or the way the Headmaster presented himself as a friend when he was really a tyrant.

But most of all, Credence decided, she hated him because, like every grown up she'd ever known, he expected her to live by his rules and expectations, without any care for her feelings.

He would never help her. Like everyone else, he could never be trusted.

"I remember a dream," she whispered, a small talon of courage reaching up from deep inside.

"Tell us," the Headmaster whispered back with a hint of mockery in his tone. "We're all waiting to hear it."

"I dreamed I was in my sleeping quarters and everyone else was in bed, but I was looking out of the window into the courtyard."

"That's not the sort of dream I meant—"

"I saw something in the courtyard. A man and a boy moving in the night. They stopped before one of the trees and the boy collected sap into a bucket while the man watched."

Recognition flashed in the Headmaster's eyes, and his hands curled.

"Go on, Credence."

"The man forced the boy to drink from the bucket. And the man told the boy he was proud."

"Anything else?"

"The boy began to act very strangely. The man had poisoned him—"

The Headmaster held up his hand. "That's enough."

"But that's not the end of my dream, Headmaster. The next day the boy—"

"I said ENOUGH!" the Headmaster roared and a few surprised gasps followed.

"You demanded I tell you my dream," Credence said. "I'm only doing as I was told."

She expected rage, even a raised fist, but the Headmaster relaxed, and this was more threatening than anything else. He looked around at the nervous faces gazing up at him and a smirk danced across his lips.

"I would like to hear the rest of your dream, but I'm afraid we've run out of time. Come to my quarters after dinner and tell me the rest there."

It was a dare.

"I'd be my pleasure, Headmaster."

A wave of anxious exhilaration washed over Credence. She'd finally got what she wanted: A moment alone with the Headmaster. But it was different than she first planned, and now, instead of confiding in a potential friend, Credence would be meeting with an enemy.

She vowed one way or another to show the Headmaster that they were on even ground.

But all too quickly the courage that prompted her defiance drained away, and she moved through the rest of the day in growing apprehension, with the weight of what was coming slowing her steps.

At dinner, Credence found herself as the new topic of interest in the school. Her classmates made sure to spread the dramatic interaction with everyone else, and now in place of wondering about Adam, all the children could talk about was the upcoming private meeting between Credence and the Headmaster.

Tildy ran to her side during and gripped her hand tightly.

"Why you were bad?" Tildy asked.

"I wasn't," Credence said.

Tildy shook her head as if she didn't believe the answer and left to join a table of her own classmates.

Next came the older students, with their advice and pity.

"It's never a good thing to meet with the Headmaster."

"For your sake I hope he's in a good mood."

"Why would you be so foolish?"

Even Gregory spared a sympathetic look for her and admitted, "I think I might miss you."

Credence had no stomach for food, and she tried to convince herself that her refusal to eat was out of spite and not fear, but the sad looks from her peers told her everyone knew the truth, even if she wouldn't admit it.

She had every right to be scared.

She tried to imagine what Ma might do in this situation, but her mind bit back that Ma would never find herself in such a predicament, for she was always careful, and far more clever.

What would Pa do?

He'd leave, her mind answered. He wouldn't care about punishments or the Headmaster.

But Credence couldn't just walk out of the door. She'd be caught instantly and dragged before a furious Headmaster.

Adam told her she'd never see the outside of the school again.

Would she be painted with a black stripe if she attempted escape?

Pa always warned there was nothing but trouble found in the towns.

I'm sorry, Pa. I should have been more careful.

She cursed at herself for being so weak.

What about Josiah? Would he manage to slip away without notice?

Her heart told her he wouldn't, but that realization gave her a bit of comfort.

At least Josiah is not here.

She considered the option of forgoing the meeting completely and slipping back into her sleeping quarters after dinner, acting like nothing was amiss—

That hope was cut short when a domestic grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hall.

"No fuss," the old woman snapped.

It was the first time Credence heard one of them speak, and it startled her so much that she instantly complied and followed the domestic through several twists and turns until they stood before an imposing door. Carved into it was an intricate picture of the towns, every last building, with tiny people idling through its streets.

Credence had never seen this area of the school before, and certainly never this door. She swallowed the dry lump in her throat as the domestic rapped against it with her gnarled fingers.

"Enter," came the muffled voice of the Headmaster.

With a grunt, the domestic pushed open the door and shoved Credence inside, then slammed it shut behind the girl.

The Headmaster's private office was a large room made small with clutter, covered with books and papers and the accoutrement of a scholar. Several bloomless plants were placed throughout, settled in pots on tops of book piles and suspended in the air by thin ropes. Glass bottles, too many to count, were spread like flowers in a field, containing various levels of water. A sizable flame danced within a fireplace, keeping the air so warm that Credence broke into a sweat almost instantly.

The Headmaster was sitting behind a massive, ornate desk, scribbling with a quill under the light of several candles around him.

"Sit," the Headmaster instructed without looking up from his writing.

Where is all your courageous defiance now, Credence's mind chided.

It was still there, but buried inside a grave of concern.

That dread directed Credence to obey the Headmaster's command, and she took a seat in the lone empty chair before his desk.

Several minutes ticked by and the Headmaster showed little concern for his guest as he filled page after page with ink. At first glance, the room did not appear to have any windows—until Credence thought to look up. In place of a roof was a thick wall of glass, the only of its kind in the whole school, which gave an unobstructed view of the nighttime sky. Credence longed to open it, for the room was stifling, and she wondered how the Headmaster could remain comfortable in such an atmosphere, in his long, buttoned robe. She stared at the stars, begging them to help her find a way out.

There was a rug beneath the Headmaster's desk, an expansive, gorgeous marvel of weaving that covered a fair portion of the floor. On it was an image of a great tree with branches stretching past Credence's feet. She rubbed her toes against its rough texture, noting with no small concern that the picture looked unsettlingly similar to something from Credence's past.

The Collector's tree.

It was impossible.

He couldn't be—

Could he?

No, Credence tried to calm herself. I am not sitting before the Collector now.

At last the Headmaster set down his worn quill and opened a drawer in the desk. He produced a soiled rag and several glass vials, which he began to methodically wipe clean.

"Credence," he said at last, his eyes never leaving his work to glance at his guest, "why did I ask you here?"

His voice was ominously gentle, filled with the kind of anger one had when they were beyond the point of yelling. A tone of danger.

"You wanted to hear the rest of my dream," Credence said, sounding a little more cooperative than she would have liked.

"We know the rest of the dream though, don't we?" He set aside a cleaned vial and picked up a dirty one. "Do you think I poisoned Adam?"

Credence gave him a hard look.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I saw him drink a whole bucket of sap and the next day he...acted unnaturally."

"And you connected those events?"

"What else could have made him act like that?"

"What makes anyone do anything?"

"I know it was the sap. And I know it's the same medicine you give us every morning."

The Headmaster sat back in his chair. He opened the buttons of his high collar, pushing away the cloth to reveal his neck.

She hated herself for it, but Credence blushed.

"I see." He looked at Credence for the first time. "Do you think I'm poisoning all of the children?"

"Maybe. Yes. Yes, I do."

The Headmaster nodded. "What kind of tree sap, do you suppose, is poisonous?"

An unexpected question, but Credence was well-versed in plants. She had Lilith's wicked tutelage to thank for that.

"Sumac, for one. Or Manchineel."

"Correct, though not surprising from one who grew up in the woods. But why would I desire to poison my students?"

The Headmaster tapped his lips with a finger, a show of considering his own question.

"I don't know," Credence said. "What makes anyone do anything?"

The Headmaster's eyes narrowed.

"The real answer, Credence, is I'm not poisoning my students. It's not my wish to hurt them, but to prepare them for the world." He chuckled. "I'd be a poor headmaster if I killed them. People would certainly take notice, wouldn't they?"

"There are all sorts of poisons," Credence replied. "And they can do all sorts of things."

"Who told you that?"

"It could be that you don't wish to kill your students, but want to keep them submissive and unsuspecting about what you do in secret."

"And what do I do in secret?"

"I don't know," Credence admitted. "I'm not certain I want to find out, either."

The Headmaster gave a humorous snort. Credence glanced at the tree on the rug. If she didn't ask the question burning on her tongue now, she may never get the chance again.

"Have we met? Before I came to the towns—in the woods?"

"What a curious question. What makes you think I've ever been in the woods?"

She didn't want to say it, but it had to be done.

"Are you the Collector?" Her voice was trembling.

The Headmaster gave her a long, thoughtful stare, and for a terrifying moment Credence believed an attack was inevitable.

He shook his head.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said. "Is this a kind of childish rumor spreading around the school? What is a 'Collector'?"

Credence bit the inside of her cheek. She was surprised to find that she believed him—and even more shocked that the answer disappointed her. It would have been so easy for the Headmaster to have been a costume or trick.

"It's nothing. Just like you said, a rumor."

"You still regard me with suspicion."

"I don't know you."

"Ask me anything. Tell me what I can do to—"

"Adam is dead, isn't he?"

The Headmaster's eyes grew wide. "No, Credence. He is very much alive."

When Credence didn't respond he sighed.

"Would you like to see him? So I may prove my innocence? I can take you to him now."

Credence wanted to accept his invitation. She wanted to see Adam and clear her suspicion, but there was something behind the Headmaster's eyes when he offered it—and a dare lurking in his tone.

Not a dare, a threat.

Credence feared that if she went with him now, she might never see the sun again.

"I don't need to see him, I just want to know where he is."

"He's in the infirmary."

"I've never heard of such a place."

"That's because, thankfully, you've never needed to."

"Penny found a piece of his shirt in her breakfast," Credence admitted.

She silently dared him to deny it.

"How do you know it was Adam's shirt?"

"Why was it in there," Credence demanded. She was tired of playing his game of questions. They both knew it was Adam's shirt, and there was no need for Credence to prove it.

The Headmaster shrugged. "What color shirt does Adam wear?"

Credence blinked. "Brown."

"What color shirt do you wear?"

"Brown."

"And the rest of the children?" He paused. "Everyone wears the same color, don't they? We do this to keep things equal. So no one can say they have it better than anyone else. Tell me, if every last child wears the same thing, how can you be sure it was Adam's shirt you saw?"

"That doesn't explain the presence of one in Penny's food."

"The domestics are hardworking," the Headmaster began with an apologetic tone, "but they make mistakes, as all of us do. It could be that one of them had a patch in their pockets for future mending, or accidentally pulled a piece free while washing. It's an easy thing, really, for something to get lost and end up elsewhere. Easy enough to slip from a pocket while they were preparing your food." The Headmaster chuckled as if the image amused him. "Not everything is lies and terror, Credence. Sometimes life has confusing coincidences. And sometimes you think you are certain of something, so certain it fills you with rage, but in the end it turns out to be nothing at all. Just a bit of harmless oversight."

He leaned back in his chair, regarding her with a studious eye.

"I imagine there were a lot of reasons to be suspicious in the woods. You probably had to constantly look over your shoulder, and always be afraid, in order to keep safe. I wonder if that sort of life did not leave you...troubled. And I understand, believe me, I do, that our way of life in the towns must feel very peculiar to someone unaccustomed to it. But I beseech you, at least try to untangle yourself from this kind of gloomy speculation. It will only do you harm in the end. Everything has a purpose here. We feed you medicine from trees because it keeps you strong and children enjoy the taste. It's a treat for those who've had nothing their whole lives. I demand that students not question their lessons because it would be a horrible waste of time to argue with everyone. Adam has an illness, and he's been absent because we took him to the infirmary to give him proper care." He smiled. "And Penny found a scrap of shirt in her food because a domestic accidentally dropped it between chores."

He held his hands out, making a motion to suggest it was beyond his control.

"If you cling to fear and look for evil in every corner—well, evil is all you're ever going to find."

He was so casual in his tone, so calm and sympathetic, that Credence felt the smallest tinge of doubt in her anger. A pinprick of uncertainty. She tried to fight against it but couldn't make it go away. She had arrived expecting a fight—or worse.

She thought him a monster but found only a man.

A man determined to ease her discomfort, to sway her mind, not with anger or punishment, but with gentle explanation.

It confused her greatly.

"I don't want you to hate me," the Headmaster said, and his voice was so full of tenderness it touched her heart. "I don't hate you. I don't want you to fear me, either. I just want you to be a good student. You see now I'm not angry over your accusations. I am sad for them because it means I've done something wrong as your headmaster."

"Why did you take Adam into the courtyard that night? Why did you make him drink so much medicine?"

"My dear child, I didn't make him do anything. I asked him to help me with some chores, and his reward was a generous treat."

"It made him sick."

"I promise you, it didn't." He gave a soft grunt stood, leaning forward on his desk just as he did in morning lessons. "Would you like to test your theory, Credence?"

She stared at him, unsure what he meant.

"I could take you into the courtyard now and you could drink from the tree, as much as Adam did."

If there was a trick, Credence was hard-pressed to find it. The Headmaster was doing all he could to ease her mind, and she began to believe he was telling the truth.

In a casual, mindless gesture, the Headmaster released the next few buttons on his robe, revealing more of his chest. It was an innocuous action, but it made Credence unconsciously hold her breath.

"Let me prove to you that nothing is amiss," he said. "To quiet your discomfort."

Credence's eyes darted between his face and the window in his robe.

"No, thank you," she said in a small rasp.

"I see. Well, if you won't allow me to prove my innocence—will you at least relinquish this notion that I'm a big, bad villain trying to hurt children?"

Credence looked into his eyes, those hypnotically pale irises that never failed to hold and keep her fascination.

She had almost been ready to pluck them out.

What a waste that would have been.

Had she given it any considerable thought, Credence may have felt that her allegiance was too quickly turned, from attraction to hate, and now, to something else. Something like admiration.

"I think I can forget my suspicion," she said.

"I'm sorry for having caused it."

"I'm sorry, too, Headmaster." She hesitated. "May I ask one last question?"

He waved his hand. "Please."

"The potion you gave as a reward—did you make it?"

He shook his head. "I bought it from a traveler at the Auction several seasons ago."

"It was magic."

He licked his lips.

"Yes," he admitted.

"I thought magic was hated in the towns."

"Do you think the power that potion gave your classmate should cause hate?"

"No."

"Let us assume then, that the towns are not exactly what you were taught to believe."

Tell him, her mind nagged. Tell him what you are. Show him what you can do.

She looked at her hand, a battle raging in her mind.

Should she conjure a flame?

"I know there are things in the woods that the towns could not begin to understand," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "I would hazard a guess that you've seen some of them."

You don't know the half of it.

"And given that you're standing here now, I would guess you're very wise, Credence. And a strong young woman."

"Have you ever been in the woods?"

"I have not, which is why I trust that you are different from the other students. Hardy, perhaps a little rough."

Resilient, Pa used to call it.

"You're a survivor, but it's made you reluctant to trust. And while I cannot blame you for being guarded, it will hinder you. I advise you to accept that you are not in the woods anymore. There are no wolves or witches here. You will have to work twice as hard to excel in this life, but I believe you are more capable than most, Credence."

His face fell into a familiar kindness.

"Any more questions for me? Any more concerns?"

"No, Headmaster."

"Off to bed with you then, and the next time you are unsettled, remember our conversation tonight. I hope you'll seek me out before allowing suspicion to conjure nightmares and cloud your judgment."

"I will," she promised and stood from her chair.

When she opened the door to leave, she turned back and smiled at him.

"You're very different from the person I met at the Auction," she noted. "Not at all what I expected."

"For the better, I hope?"

"Yes."

"We all wear masks to suit different worlds, don't we?"

Credence nodded. "Good night, Headmaster."

He returned her nod.

"You dragged me across the briar patch with your accusations," he gently teased, "but when cornered, I didn't do the same to you. Don't forget that, Credence."