Chapter 2

I introduced Miranda to Andrew, and the attention of Andrew and his circle of friends focused wholly on Miranda. A smaller circle formed around Beth, who would have been the center of attention if Miranda hadn’t been there. I watched as Miranda handled the conversations with aplomb, appearing to make every person who addressed her, male or female, feel as if they were her special friend. Did she learn that at the Academy too?

Every few minutes Miranda’s gaze would turn to the stage, with its raised platform in the middle and prominent noose dangling above it. She had let out a gasp of excitement the moment she had seen it, and her hand, perhaps unconsciously, had drifted up towards her neck. During more recent looks at it, her hand seemed to move down toward the front of her skirt. I noticed her hips twitch slightly.

Melville cleared his throat. “Miss Amy, there is another guest at the front door.”

Why is he telling me? “Who is it, Melville?”

“He says he is Miranda’s father. I thought someone in the family should receive him.” Well, it was obvious why I got the job—her Father and Andrew both looked very occupied.

A friendly-looking man around Father’s age was waiting in the foyer. “Hi. Kevin Warren. I’m Miranda’s dad. You are...?”

I held out my hand. “Amy Cameron. Welcome to my dad’s house, my brother’s party. I’m glad you could make it. Miranda seems ... well, she’s really nice.”

He beamed, obviously taking pride in his daughter. “I’m not too late, am I? Is she still talking to the guests?”

“Oh! Right. If you’ll follow me, we’ll go see her.”

As we came out the back door, Miranda was laughing heartily at something someone had said—probably Dad, from the way Miranda was looking at him. I cleared my throat. “Mir...”

Miranda gasped and grinned. “Daddy!!” She threw herself at him and enveloped him in a crushing hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

Miranda’s father laughed and hugged her back. “Did my Princess think I’d miss her big day?”

Miranda looked up at him, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Oh, Daddy, that’s so funny! You always called me that, and you probably didn’t even know I’m a real princess today!”

Kevin looked puzzled. “Eh?”

Miranda whispered in his ear, “They wanted the captive princess scenario. Never mind, you’ll see what I mean.” She kissed Mr. Warren’s cheek and let go, and frowned suddenly. “Where are the girls?”

“Oh, Melissa is watching them. She’s old enough to babysit now.”

Miranda shook her head in wonder. “It’s so hard to think of her being sixteen. But I wish they could be here.”

“I know, Randi, and they wanted so much to come and see their big sister hang, but I was thinking the atmosphere might get a little rowdy here for them. I reminded them that Melissa was thinking of going to the Academy as soon as she’s old enough. That settled them down a little.”

“But you’ll take back a souvenir for them, won’t you?”

“Of course, Princess! There’s no way I’d leave them without something to remember you by.”

Miranda hugged him again. “I’m really glad.” She waved her arm. “They’ve got some beer in that cooler over there, or if you want a drink from the bar it’s there.” Se indicated the makeshift bar, behind which the hired bartender nodded at the new arrival.

Dad came over, holding out his hand. “Preston Cameron. Nice to meet you. Quite a girl you’ve got here.”

Kevin grinned. “Always knew it. Kevin Warren.” They shook hands as Andrew approached. Andrew shook hands with Kevin rather dismissively and turned immediately back to his friends, summoning Miranda back to the group with a peremptory hand gesture. Ever the asshole.

Dad put his hand companionably on Kevin’s shoulder. “Now, while we own Miranda, I think that her family should get a quarter of the thanerone. I’m a father myself.”

I couldn’t help wincing at the casual way Father talked about converting that beautiful girl. Maybe I should run away from home before I turn into an asshole like my father. Or I could ... No, that’s crazy. Dad was just being nice, saying all that.

“Oh, no, really, I don’t want to take that much away from you. If you could just give me ten percent, that’d be fine.”

Dad smiled with evident relief. He’d obviously been thinking of the benefit of keeping at least half of Miranda’s thanerone in our family. Andrew, of course, would get Miranda’s head for his trophy shelf, as well as a quarter of the thanerone. “Deal! Get you a drink? I’m buying,” he grinned, his idea of humor.

With all this going on, it was easy for me to fade into the background. I wasn’t wearing a watch, but I was sure fifty minutes had passed. I drifted slowly across the yard towards the tent that had been erected by Academy workers earlier in the week. I was a little nervous about Andrew noticing where I was going—but bro’s attention was, again, fully occupied, as was that of his friends and their dates. I felt a little more nervous approaching Big Bill. I took a last quick look around and whispered, “Squatcho.” I felt a little silly. But he just nodded and stepped slightly aside. I tried to be casual as I eased through the entrance to the tent.

The interior was dimly lit by two battery-operated lanterns on opposite sides. The backyard grass served as the floor. Beth had already dropped off her satchel and opened it. A soft but heavy-looking fake-fur robe was hanging from a hook on one wall of the tent. Aside from that, the tent’s only furnishings were the satchel and a mattress, the latter covered in sheets—expensive ones, by the look of them—with embroidered curtains hanging down on its four sides from rods mounted above it. There was nowhere else to sit; I parted the curtains at one corner and sat on the edge of the mattress.

I was starting to think I’d come over too early. Then I heard voices coming nearer, Miranda’s saying, “Now, give me some time to get ready. I’ll give you a signal when it’s time for you to come in.” I wasn’t sure whom that was addressed to—probably Andrew. Then Kevin’s voice: “I’m so proud of you, Princess.” There was silence for a few beats, terminated by the sound of a light kiss, Miranda saying, “I love you, Daddy. Thank you, for everything.”

“Love you too, Princess. Go knock ‘em dead.”

Miranda laughed again. “No, Dad, that’s what they’ll do to me.”

Seconds later Miranda breezed into the tent, alone. Beth, presumably, was still “mingling,” and now getting her deserved share of admiration

Miranda quickly put her finger to her lips, and whispered “Wait a sec.” She listened, and I heard Andrew’s voice at some distance. Miranda nodded and said quietly, “Okay, just wanted to make sure nobody important was listening in.” She grinned, rolled his eyes and said, “Whew! Glad that part’s over. I can hardly wait for the Big Moment.”

The girl’s enthusiasm was amazing. “I guess it’s not really just a moment, is it? Is it true what I’ve heard, that you can keep kicking twenty, twenty-five minutes or more?”

Miranda’s eyes were alight. “Theoretically even thirty-five, but I’ve never heard of anyone going that long. I’m hoping for thirty. All the Third Years have to get to where they can swing and kick at least fifteen minutes. It’s a test you have to pass. I was kind of scared of that when I heard about it my first year, but I got to where I can do that easily.”

I gawked at her. “Scared? You?”

“Of course! Everybody is. But I just kept telling myself, they let you into their Academy because they believed in you. And I made myself believe in me, and that drove me to get to this point.”

“I don’t know if I believe in myself.”

Miranda reached up, put his hands on my shoulders, and locked eyes with me. “Yes, you can. You already do. You just haven’t told yourself yet.”

I just couldn’t pull my eyes from Miranda’s. “I could never be in the Hanging Academy, though.”

Miranda shook his head in mock exasperation. “Sure you can. Didn’t you say your grades are good? They’re all A’s, aren’t they?”

I looked down. My excellent grades embarrassed me a little. Andrew always called me “the Bookworm,” with a snarl—among other less complimentary names. “Well, yeah.”

“I could just tell. And...” Miranda rummaged around in her satchel, pulled out a mirror and handed it to me. “Hold this and look at yourself.” She stood behind me and reached up and in under my hair with her fingers, lifting it up and back. She fiddled with it, her teeth unconsciously biting down on her lip as she concentrated, trying out various arrangements. At last she smiled. “Okay, imagine this hair in front is a lot shorter. You’d brush it towards the sides, like wings. Not bangs.” Miranda used two fingers on each side like scissors. “Everything below my fingers isn’t there. Then it gets a little longer as you go back, and layered, and hangs to your shoulders in back. Can you see it that way?”

I just stared, gradually seeing myself in my mind’s eye as Miranda described me. I smiled in spite of myself. “Yeah, I’ve seen women with it that way. They always look kind of cute. But you have to have the right face for it.”

Miranda sighed with exasperation and grinned. “You do, Amy! You aren’t seeing yourself like other people see you. I promise, that would look just right for you.”

I looked away from the mirror, to Miranda. I could see she was absolutely sincere. “Okay. I’ll ... I’ll try that.” But I felt a little nervous at the idea of trying a new look. Would people just laugh at me?

“Great! And they’ve got professional dressers at the Academy. They could make you look just perfect. Tonight I want you to look at yourself in the mirror again, see yourself that way, and try to see yourself like you were a stranger. See yourself the way I see you. Promise?”

Not quite sure why, or whether I should allow this to continue, I nodded. “I promise. But ... well, look, about hanging. I don’t know if ... well, I mean, it’s still kind of scary.”

Miranda looked thoughtful for a moment. She put the mirror down. Still looking at me, she said, “Don’t get panicked about what I’m about to do. Don’t resist. Just go with it. I won’t make any sudden moves. I’ll take it really slow. And I’ll know when to stop, I promise.”

I didn’t understand what Miranda was talking about. But she reached forward slowly and put her hands on the sides of my neck, her thumbs over my windpipe. She let them rest there, and asked quietly, “Trust me?”

I nodded. I was beginning to understand what was happening.

Miranda began to squeeze, tightening her grip on my neck by tiny degrees. I felt my pulse pounding in my neck, my heart pumping more quickly by the second. Miranda, her voice as soft as a breeze, said, “Relax, Amy. No need to be tense. Just let it happen, let it happen...” Her voice trailed off to nothing at the end.

I took a slow breath; my internal tension was easing. Miranda began squeezing harder.

I felt myself getting lightheaded. It was harder to breathe, but somehow that didn’t matter. My whole body was becoming weightless, as if I could float to the top of the tent if Miranda weren’t holding me down.

At last I couldn’t breathe at all. I was floating, I was sure of it. A feeling of ... I couldn’t think of the right word, but it was spreading through my body. Exultation. Something like that.

There was a buzzing in my ears, a red tinge creeping in from the sides of my vision. Suddenly Miranda let go. I brought my hand up to my throat, gasping for breath, completely amazed.

Miranda beamed, and hugged me. “You’re definitely Academy material. No doubt about it.”

I felt breathless again, for a different reason now. “You really do think so, don’t you? You aren’t just saying it?”

Miranda threw up her hands, grinning. “Amy, what am I going to do with you? Look, maybe this will convince you.” She began rooting in the satchel again and brought out a folded form and a pen. “We always carry these around in case a recruiting opportunity comes up.”

She spent a few minutes writing intently on the form, then handed it to me. “Amy, go down to the Academy as soon as you can. Take off school if you need to. Look for the Admissions Office, and give them this. You’ll have to send transcripts later, and have an interview, and pass a test that’s a lot like the one I just gave you. But with everything else you have going for you, a recommendation from an Academy student, especially a graduate, is going to carry a lot of weight. I can’t promise you anything, except to say you’ve got a really good chance. And that’s the honest truth.”