Chapter 4

Wednesday

I sat on the bed in between Larry and Laney. A lot of students had wanted to join me to watch Grant’s Fifteen, but I only wanted to be with Larry and Laney.

Fifteens were always scheduled so that roommates had consecutive times on the same day. That way nobody had to spend a night fretting over their test with a roommate who had already passed it. In another hour it would be my turn, but at the moment I just couldn’t think about that.

I started to look away when Lester, supervising the Fifteens for Wednesday afternoon, slipped the noose down over Grant’s head and pulled it tight around his neck. But looking at Grant’s face helped calm me—Grant was calm, his only reaction was the small smile he always had in anticipation of hanging.

The platform began sinking, and I was only dimly aware of Laney’s, “ Ow - ow - ow! Amy, you’re crushing my hand!” I opened my hand and tried to relax, but the rope now lifted Grant off the platform and I convulsively tightened my grip again.

I felt better again as I watched Grant relaxing into a no-frills dance in mid-air. Grant’s face now looked a little bored. I wished I had the knack for spotting problems the way Grant did. but no one did as far as I knew. Probably no one ever had.

Grant’s unvarying kicking and swaying as he hung by his neck became a little hypnotic, and it was hard for me to tell how much time was passing by. I suddenly felt as if I’d been asleep, returning to consciousness with a strong sense that Grant had been up way too long. Almost panicked, I said tensely, “Larry, how long?”

“How much time left? About two minutes. Amy, everything’s okay, it’s okay. He’s doing great.”

I concentrated on watching Grant’s legs. Grant’s kicking seemed no less energetic than it had at the beginning.

Then I shifted my attention upward to watch Grant’s head movements. They should show this video in all of the beginning Hanging classes, so students can watch to see exactly how it’s supposed to be done.

I started to ask Larry for another time check, but barely had opened my mouth when I saw the platform lever had sprung upwards. Grant, with a casual kick, pushed it forward, and moments later stood on a firm surface once more.

I gave a cry of joy, pulled my hands away from my friends and threw my arms around both of them, pulling them toward me to hold them tightly, tears running from my eyes.

Grant was now standing still, his eyes closed, taking slow, deep breaths, as Lester untied his wrists. It occurred to me that, after watching half of my own class’ Fifteens now, and most of the Fifteens of the classes from the previous two years, this was the first time I had ever seen a student not gasping for breath at the end. I shook my head slightly, my mouth open. Laney spoke the question I was thinking: “Amy, how long can he stay up there? Have you ever found out?”

I shook my head more firmly. “No idea. I’ve never seen him go strictly for time. He’s always trying to work on some move, and he decides when he’s done it enough. And there’s no way I’m going to mess with his practice routine.”

Larry was shaking his head as well. “Well, if you get any idea, let us know. I wish we could see him do his show, but we’ll be dead by then.”

“Oh, I was going to ask, have you seen any offers that sound good?”

They both shook their heads. Larry said, “I’ve looked at a couple of offers that came in, but I kind of want the Assassin, and the one that wanted that scene was looking for a blond.”

I turned and looked at Larry pointedly. “Well?”

Larry laughed. “I’m not big on the Assassin. I’m not sure what I want, really. I might write my own.”

“Cool. So have you started on that?”

Larry looked away, sheepishly. “Well, no. But I’m throwing some ideas around in my head.”

I started, “I’ll try to think of...” I stopped as the door opened. Grant looked in, saw me, and gave me an open-mouthed grin.

I bounced off the bed as if it were a pilot’s ejector seat, ran to Grant and threw my arms around him. Grant’s arms encircled me at the same time. I held Grant’s head against mine, closed my eyes, and stood there for a long time.

Grant said, “Oh yeah—The rope is the one they’ve been using since Monday, so it’s getting just a little frayed. It’ll feel scratchy. They’ll probably change it for tomorrow, but this is the last session for today so they’d probably just leave it. And Lester is a stickler for starting exactly on time. He’ll get you ready early, and then make you stand there until the clock hits the hour. Don’t let the long wait throw your concentration off.”

I nodded seriously, then said, “Okay, stop, stop, you’re making me nervous. I’ll be fine once I get started.” I looked at Larry’s clock and grimaced. “Ten minutes. I better go.” I quickly peeled off my shoes and uniform and handed them to Grant, who was dressed now—I had brought his clothes down to the room with me. “Bring these to our room when you’re done...” I turned to our friends. “You guys understand, right? We just want to be alone for awhile after it’s done.”

Larry waved me on and said quickly, “Of course we understand, now go! You need to get there in time to settle your breathing down before it starts.”

I kissed Grant, harder and longer than usual, then turned and walked down the hallway. I wasn’t surprised to see no students at all on my way to the demo room—everybody who wasn’t in class had their eyes glued to the television. I kept my eyes closed for most of my walk, opening them at intervals just long enough to avoid obstructions and find turns. I was proud to find that my breathing remained calm.

I opened the door to the demo hall and walked in. Seeing Lester waiting patiently by the platform, I thought, This is it, and worked to force my mind blank. Just going to hang for awhile, I told myself. Just going to practice a little.

I returned Lester’s smile and greeting, and stepped up onto the platform. There, I don’t need to do anymore. I don’t need to think anymore.

As Lester tied my hands, I concentrated on my breathing, eyes closed. I felt the tension begin washing away from me with the familiar feeling of the rope closing around my neck. Remembering what Grant had said, I looked up at the clock now, not wanting to be startled when, after a long wait, the platform suddenly started downward.

The minute hand edged up to the top—there. The platform was descending. I took a last, deep breath, and felt the rope holding my weight now as my toes lost contact with the surface.

The familiar feeling of bliss washed over me. Doing the Fifteen made it so simple, so basic. I didn’t have to perform any fancy stuff, didn’t have to think ahead through a sequence of moves. It was just me and the rope holding me aloft.

The clock, I thought. Laney bet me I’d look at the clock.

I swung my right leg out wide, moving my hips in a circular motion designed to turn me gradually to my left. The rope would slowing untwist and bring me back to face the front, so I’d have to work a little to keep facing left. It was worth it.

Memories of that first time I had felt this excitement, this exultation, came back to me. The day of Miranda’s hanging, when Miranda had put her own hands on my neck, their soft squeezing gently choking me. The floating feeling of hypoxia, which had been part of my life ever since that day.

More memories returned from that critical day, when my life had turned, had taken ... not a new direction. A first direction. I had never had one before.

Miranda standing nude in front of me as I spread the oil all over her skin. The sun gleaming on Miranda’s body as she stood on the platform, waiting to be hanged, every eye watching her, everyone aroused by her, thrilled by her, wanting her.

I was startled back into the present by a “sproing” sound. I frowned as I saw the platform’s lever standing upright where my left foot was swinging past it. I kicked at it and waited as the platform rose. Soon it touched my toes, then supported my feet. I closed my eyes and gasped in a long, deep breath.

I looked down at Lester, just as he was stepping up onto the platform beside me. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop the test?”