When Zelazny called out, ‘Glass!’ Zoe strode past them, visibly fuming. She snatched the folder from his hands. ‘This is lame,’ she muttered as she passed Allie on her way back to her seat.
Finally, Zelazny barked, ‘Sheridan!’
Taking a steadying breath, she walked to the front of the room. She kept her face blank although her hands curled into fists at her sides. She made herself meet Zelazny’s frigid eyes as she took the cool folder from his hands. The entire process of walking from her seat to the table and back again must have taken less than a minute. It felt endless.
Carter’s was the last name called. As he stood up he gave Allie a helpless look.
‘You now have your assignments.’ Isabelle’s cool, clear voice rang out after he returned to his seat. ‘Your absolute discretion is required with this process.’
While she spoke, Jerry took off his wire-framed glasses and wiped them with a cloth. When finished, he took over for the final part. ‘Spend time with your subject. Learn to ask the right questions. And to tell truth from a lie. This is important.’ Replacing his glasses on his nose, he studied them all solemnly. ‘Somebody in this room is working for Nathaniel. Lying to all of us. You could find that person. The process starts tomorrow. There will be no Night School training this week – we want you to focus solely on this project.’
As the students shuffled out of the room, Allie and Carter caught up with Lucas and Jules.
‘Can you believe this?’ Lucas looked disgusted.
Shaking her head, Jules glanced up at Carter. ‘I don’t like this at all.’
Her worried expression made Allie nervous.
Nothing ever bothers Jules.
‘This isn’t going to end well. Someone’s gonna get their feelings hurt,’ Lucas joked darkly, trying to lighten the mood. ‘And I’ll bet it’s me.’
But nobody laughed.
Back in her room later, Allie sat on her bed, the folder closed in front of her; a rectangular black hole amid the milky whiteness of the duvet.
Nobody had wanted to hang out. By unspoken consensus they’d all parted at the top of the stairs, everyone going their own way.
Now she knew she had to open the folder and see whose privacy she was going to invade. Whose honesty she was about to doubt. And who would probably hate her before the week was over.
Eloise had said the assigned person would be somebody they knew well.
A horrible sixth sense told her she already knew what she would find inside that folder. Still she looked at it for a long moment, her hands refusing to move.
Finally, closing her eyes, she reached out blindly for the folder. She could feel the cool smoothness of the cover beneath her fingertips, then the sharp ridge of the edges. She flipped it open.
Saying a silent prayer, she opened her eyes.
Two words stared up at her, written in neat black letters against the white background of the page.
‘Carter West.’
TWELVE
Picking up the paper, Allie glared at it fiercely, as if the intensity of her gaze could change its contents. But no matter how long she looked the same message glared up at her. She flipped it over and back again. Aside from those two unwanted words the page was blank.
Behind it, though, was another piece of paper – a short sheet of instructions, neatly typed.
Now that your subject has been assigned, you are required to inform this person that you will be investigating them. Try and do this in an unthreatening fashion. For example, offer them tea first. Or meet them for lunch. In that relaxed environment, tell them that they have been assigned to you, and that you’d like to conduct your first interview as soon as possible.
During your meetings, take thorough notes. Along with your final research document, all of your notes must also be submitted for review. Keep no copies for yourself.
Keep this folder safe. Allow nobody to see it or its contents. Any breach of this rule could result in your disqualification from Night School or, in some cases, in your expulsion …
A light tap at the window stopped her mid-sentence. Carter peered at her through the glass from his perch on the ledge outside.
Allie scrambled to close the file folder. For a moment she thought about telling him to go away.
Feigning illness or exhaustion. Anything.
When she didn’t move, he pointed at the window latch and gave her an ‘any time now’ look.
Reluctantly, she climbed off the bed and pushed open the latch. The shutter-style window swung out and Carter climbed on to the desk in a rush of cool air, unfolding his long legs with difficulty. It was still raining out, and his dark hair hung lank; water dripped on to his blue jumper. The cold had made his cheeks red.
He looked amazing. But he was a bit cross.
‘What took you so long? It’s freezing out there.’
‘Sorry,’ she said, gesturing vaguely. ‘I was working on a … thing.’
Glancing at the folder on her bed, his eyes darkened. ‘Yeah, I’ve been working on that thing myself.’
‘I hate that thing,’ she said. ‘Do we have to do that thing?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But it doesn’t have to ruin our lives. We just do the thing and then we go and do some other thing. It’s just a thing.’
‘You say that, but what they’re asking us to do is invade each other’s privacy.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘Tell each other all our secrets. Reveal all the embarrassing or weird or bad crap we never tell anybody. And, basically, accuse each other of being spies and liars. How do we do that and still stay …’ remembering that he didn’t know yet who she’d been assigned, she finished weakly, ‘… friends?’