Chapter 1

I looked around the hallway outside the party room, trying to remember myself as the young high school graduate who had been so much in awe of these surroundings three years ago. I still felt awe at being here, but it was now overlaid with a sense of belonging. This school, the Academy, was my place, destined to be mine from the time I was born. I’ve done it; I’ve cleared all of the hurdles. The only thing left is the finish line.

Around me were the faces of my closest friends, twenty-three of them, the men and women I’d traveled with on this journey—all of them strangers in that dim past, three years previous, now married by the shared experience of becoming the Noosemeisters we wanted to be.

These thoughts were too ponderous. I turned to Grant, standing next to me among the whispering Noosemeisters, all dressed in our blue Academy uniforms. At least we didn’t have the cap-and-gown pretentiousness of a traditional college. I kissed Grant and grinned. “Well, we’re here!”

Grant grinned back. “Where we were always meant to be.” His face was aglow.

I laughed. The importance of this occasion was even affecting Grant.

We milled around. Jackie drifted over to me and I gave her a tight hug and a kiss. “Took a long time to get here, didn’t it?” I reached out to include Erland in the hug. Jackie and Erland were one of just three pairs of original roommates who had made it through together—four, if I counted Shawna and Grant, who had split up but were both still alive.

Jackie grinned. “Did you do the same thing I did, back at the start? Make a mental list of who was going to make it and who wasn’t?”

I shrugged. “It’s kind of natural, right?” I waved my arm around to indicate the rest of the graduating class. “How did you do?”

Jackie laughed. “About as well as I could have if I’d just seen names on the admission list. Or drawn them out of a hat. None of us knew anything about each other.”

Erland tightened his hand around Jackie’s. “I guess we do now.” He leaned in to kiss Grant and me.

Jackie laughed again. “Yeah, now we know exactly which of us have moles between their butt cheeks.” The students in the immediate area laughed, and a couple of them got friendly whaps on the butt.

Ms. Bennett, newly promoted to assistant Dean, appeared in the doorway of the room. “All of you get lined up now, so we can go in. You know the order.”

Slowly, with low-voiced conversation and giggling, we formed a line in front of the doorway, with roommates marching together. I took a deep breath as I fell in line in front of Grant and behind Wendi, from the room across next door. The music got gradually louder: it seemed to be some sort of graduation march. The murmur of conversations from inside the party room was suddenly hushed. Ms. Bennett gestured to Riley, and we walked down the center aisle. All of the guests turned to watch, each looking to pick out the one particular student they had come to see.

Behind the guests sat the newly-promoted Second Year and Third Year classes, all wearing their new uniforms. The Second Years were almost as excited as the graduates: this was their first glimpse of the graduation they were aiming for. I grinned and gave a thumbs-up to Melissa, who returned the gesture, and saw Jana give a finger-wave to Grant; the two had developed a special rapport.

I had not invited anyone—nearly the only graduate who hadn’t. Father was not big on ceremonies of this type, and missing it would not be a big deal for him. And there was always the danger that Andrew would come along; no way I wanted him anywhere near me. I’d visit Father later, for as many hugs and thank-yous as that reserved man would stand for. I’d wanted to invite Scott, the only boyfriend I’d ever had. I wanted to thank him for being so understanding: that our relationship had to be temporary, that my budding love for him could never flower in the face of my need to attend the Academy. But I hadn’t been able to locate him. He was no longer at the address and phone number I knew from three years ago, and I couldn’t find a directory listing for him. He should have graduated from the university a few months ago. I’d tried to find him through the university, but they told me—rather stiffly—that they didn’t give out that sort of information.

I spotted a man who looked a lot like Grant. I turned and saw Grant nod confirmation; he gave the older man a quick wave. I was a little puzzled that there wasn’t a twelve-year-old girl beside the man— Grant’s sister Kathleen. Grant hadn’t said anything, but I could tell that he was more eager to see Kathleen here than his father—or, more accurately, that Kathleen should see him. Grant didn’t really display any conscious pride in being a Noosemeister. It was simply the most natural thing in the world to him, and he could never have seen himself as anything else. The extent to which he did take pride in it lay in whatever inspiration it could provide for his sister. I could see the disappointment in Grant’s eyes, even behind the happiness of seeing his father.

Riley, leading the line, now climbed up on the stage and sat on the farthest seat. The rest of the students reached their seats and sat, forming a single row, so that no student would be hidden behind others. As soon as Grant and I were seated, I took his hand and gave it a squeeze ... I glanced at the noose we had walked past, the noose that represented everything we had worked for. For the thousandth time, I fell that thrill shoot through me at the sight of a rope tied in that simple knot.

Once the graduates were seated, the music faded and the Dean stepped up to the lectern.

He smiled out at the audience. “I’d like to welcome all of you here to the Hanging Academy on this special day. I am Eric Porter, the Dean of the Academy, and it is my pleasure to present to you this year’s graduating class.” He gestured to his left, indicating the graduates, and the guests applauded, accompanied by a high-pitched cheer from the students behind them.

“As part of our program today, I’d like to present one of our graduates, Amy Cameron, who has a few words to say on behalf of the class. Amy?”

I took a deep breath, stood and walked to the lectern. I hadn’t exactly wanted this assignment, but had volunteered to save Grant from doing something out of his comfort zone. The student speaker was always chosen from the top three students in the class—in order, Grant, me, and Jackie. I held the sides of the lectern, my hands shaking slightly, and looked out over the audience.

“I...” I swallowed and started again. “I don’t have a speech written down. I wanted it to come from the heart. My heart is doing a little bouncing around on its own right now, but I’ll try to make this work.” I held my hand over my chest. There were appreciative chuckles and encouraging nods with smiles from the audience, and my nervousness eased a little.

“I’d much rather be over there,” pointing to the noose, “than standing here. Every one of us feels that way,” I gestured to my classmates, “And I think that if you understand that, you’ll know the most important thing about us. Those of you who came here to see your son, or granddaughter, or brother, sister, best friend ... I just wish there was a way you could really know how much work they have done in the last three years to be sitting with us today. Please believe me, you can be really, really proud of them.

“For myself, the one personal comment I want to make is to thank you, those of you out there who either created these students, or had any part at all in making them who they are today. Because I really needed their friendship and their help, and without them I wouldn’t have made it here.

“And now ... I want you to stop focusing on us for just a minute, the twenty-two of us you’re seeing on the stage. Because in the beginning, there were fifty-eight of us. And if you’re wondering what happened to the rest—they were all hanged at some time during the last three years.” There were a few murmurs of surprise from audience members not familiar with how the Academy worked. I went on, with slow emphasis, “But they are here. They are part of us. They helped make us what we have become, teaching us things we couldn’t have learned except for their sacrifice. And since they are part of us, they are graduating today, just like the ones you are seeing. You’re going to hear all of our names in just a few minutes, so I want to make the list of graduates complete, by introducing the students who are here but invisible to you, though they are very visible to us.”

I looked down at the list. “Susan Fennel. Perry...” After each name, I paused and looked up as if finding them somewhere to the side of the 24 living graduates. I had practiced naming them from memory, all 34, but decided to use a list just in case. I wanted to get this part exactly right, because I knew the graduation was being filmed—and I intended, later, to ask the Dean to send copies of the video to the families of all of the departed boys.

I looked up again as I finished the list, then stole a quick look at the Dean. I hoped he wouldn’t be angry that I was exceeding my authority. “We, the graduates you can see, now declare all of the students whose names you’ve just heard to be graduates of the Hanging Academy.” My voice broke. “And we thank every one of them, with every beat of our hearts.”

I walked back to my seat, leaking tears.

For a moment, there was dead silence throughout the room. Then came the sound of two or three pairs of hands clapping. Instantly the applause spread through the hall. Behind the guests, the Second and Third Year students leapt to their feet, followed seconds later by the guests themselves. My classmates were applauding as well. I wiped my eyes and joined in the applause. It wasn’t for me, or anything I had said. It was for Susan, and Perry, and all of the rest.

As the applause subsided, the Dean arose again and stepped to the lectern. To my astonishment, he brushed the back of his hand across his eyes. He had to clear his throat twice, and spoke his first few words in a slightly more husky than normal voice. “At this time, Ms. Vonda Bennett, our assistant Dean, will help me present to each of our graduates a symbol of their accomplishment. Let me say a few words first that will help you appreciate the meaning this symbol has for our graduates.

“As you can easily understand, our graduates have little use, themselves, for a diploma, since they all anticipate dying in the next few months, and in the process bringing honor to their school and recognition of their skills. We will shortly be mailing diplomas, already mounted and laminated on plaques, to their families. Today, though, each of our graduates will be presented with a red slave collar.