Free Life Eternal by Yvonne Woon

the table, the main door of the dining hall opened, and a tall, ebony-skinned man sauntered down the aisle, carrying a folder of papers. He was wearing a dark green suit, the kind only a tall person could pull off. His hair was graying.
    A hush fell over the crowd as he stood at the head of the room and put on his glasses.
    “Hello,” he said in a French-Caribbean accent, his voice deep yet wavering, as if he were singing the words. “As many of you know, I am Headmaster LaGuerre, and I’d like to welcome you all to Lycée St. Clément.”
    Everyone clapped. From where I was sitting, I could see the back of Clementine’s head near the front. Her last name was LaGuerre, too.
    “You are all Monitors,” he said, and smiled. “It makes me proud to say those words. Some of you come from old Monitoring families, others are new to our community, but we are all united by our shared talents: the unique ability to sense death, and the primal urge to seek it out and bury it.”
    The room went still as he gazed around us, his words pulsing beneath the silence like electricity.
    “In your time at St. Clément, you’ll make new friends, discover new skills, and eventually you’ll specialize in one branch of Monitoring. However, most important, you will learn how to control and use your powers. The purpose of our calling is to police the Undead, and to put them to rest only when completely necessary. All life is precious, even second lives.”
    I wanted to turn to April’s table, but resisted the urge.
    “Monitoring is not a safe calling. Every day you will be risking your lives for the betterment of humanity.” He paused dramatically. “In your classes you will hone the three basic Monitoring skills: intuition, sensing the Undead; evaluation, judging the Undead; and execution, putting the Undead to rest. But classes aren’t a replacement for real experience. You need to learn how to watch after yourselves, and now is the perfect time to start.” He motioned toward the doors. “The gates are always open. You can come and go as you please, and at your own risk.
    “That said, we do have two rules. First, I ask you to keep what you learn at St. Clément to yourselves. You are not to discuss the existence of Monitors or the Undead to anyone outside of these walls; nor shall you blatantly display your talents to anyone outside this community unless the situation is life threatening. Should the public find out about the existence of the Undead, they will try to bury them all. History has proven this to be true over and over again.
    “And second, I ask you to carry around some sort of protection at all times. A small shovel is preferable, as it can be used as both a blunt weapon and a burial tool; but a box of matches, a roll of gauze—any of these things will suffice. It is our job to start training you to act and think like Monitors.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out something wrapped in a cloth. He unfolded it and held up a small trowel and a pair of gloves. “As you can see, we professors take the same precautions as you.”
    The room was completely silent as he wrapped up his tools and slid them back into his pocket.
    “Finally, I’d like to name this year’s top rank. For those of you who are new to St. Clément, the top rank is the student who scored the highest in the placement exam, which the entire school takes. That student is thus the best Monitor at our academy.”
    He looked down at a piece of paper. “Renée Winters.”
    It took me a few moments to realize he had said my name. When I did, I was so surprised that I dropped my fork into my lap. I picked it up and brushed myself off, feeling my cheeks flush as all heads turned in my direction. How could I have gotten first rank when I hadn’t even finished the exam?
    “Renée, would you come to the front?” the headmaster said, gazing around the crowd, unsure of who I was.
    I stood up and walked to the podium, my shoes loud against the wooden