The Children of Hypnos

[Vol. 2] Chapter 7: Why Can't We Be Friends

The trials ended shortly before dinner.

Emery, Wes, Ridley, and Jacqueline left the building together, confused and hot until they met the cold of the outside. Veronica Lash, one of the dreamhunter students in Emery and Wes's year, was waiting on the stone wall outside the administration building and jumped to her feet when they walked out.

"So?" she said.

"We're all clear," Jacqueline replied, weakly.

In one moment, Veronica was five feet away, looking worried; in the next she'd thrown herself forward and was crushing Jacqueline in a hug; and in the next, she and Jacqueline were kissing so furiously Emery wasn't sure which one of them had started it. They didn't seem to care about the snow or the cold or the members of the jury filing down the steps past them. When the two girls showed no immediate signs of breaking apart, Emery grabbed Wes and Ridley and steered them down the steps and toward the Crossing.

"I didn't know they were going out," Ridley said.

"I don't think Jacqueline did either," Emery said, "but she's not complaining, so let's get out of here."

Her fingers itched. She had the strange feeling of both wanting to be alone and not. The Crossing was perfect for it; at this time of day it was swarming with both day- and night-division students getting lunch or looking for a place to sit and relax between classes. The three of them got food and ate at a table on the fringes of the cafeteria. Emery was too worn out from nerves to talk, and she imagined Wes probably was, too. Ridley wouldn't stop bouncing her pencil-thin legs and twisting her hands in her lap, but she managed to distract herself with yogurt and fruit.

By the time they finished, the Crossing's atrium had largely cleared out again, most of the students returned to classes or off to their dorms. Emery thought about Jacqueline and Veronica, then told herself to stop, then started again because she'd told herself to stop, then forced herself to stop and think of something else. She stared at her food tray, picking at the red plastic, trying to figure out if the color was right—no, no, Joel's blood had been much darker than that on the ballroom floor, dark and smooth and shiny as it pooled around him.

"Emery," Wes said.

"What?"

"You look like you're going to laser vision a hole through the table."

"Sorry."

Ridley looked between the two of them, still bouncing, still not saying anything.

"This is good," Wes said. "This verdict. No one's dying, and we have time to figure out some kind of plan for hunting down Morrigan."

Emery gouged a line along the lip of her tray with her fingernail. A good verdict didn't mean things were good. How could Grandpa Al have been so ready to condemn her? How could he continue to side with the Hypnos State after everything that had happened? How could she still believe in the good in him when he continued to show that he didn't care what happened to her, as long as it remained in line with what the State wanted? He was Grandpa Al—he drank tea with her, and taught her how to do better and be better, and he'd always loved her and Edgar more than anything else.

"Emery," Wes said again, his tone warning now.

"Sorry, I can't turn my brain off."

"You shouldn't have to," Wes said. "What are you thinking about?"

Emery waved her hand around. "Nothing. Everything. Just what's been happening, same old, don't worry about it."

"You're unfocused. In a time like this, that's something to worry about."