Free Protecting Truth by Michelle Warren

She spins again, her silky cropped hair flinging around with her as she does.
    “The Academy was able to, shall we say, secure certain information that will lead us to Cece and the Underground. And that information is worth quite a lot.” Her red lips turn up at one corner.
    “And what does that have to do with Perpetua?” I cross my arms and stare.
    “Perpetua exchanged information on Cece’s whereabouts for her and her team’s return to the Academy.”
    “You let her bribe her way back into school?”
    “Call it what you want.” Her lips purse.
    I stop to consider the information. If Terease knows Cece’s location, then she knows my mom’s. Maybe I won’t need the rosary necklace after all.
    “I want in,” I blurt.
    “What?”
    “When you go to find her. I want to be there,” I say plainly. I know Terease will want to be the one to drag the redheaded, blood-loving freak in, and I want to be there too.
    Terease bites her long black fingernail and rotates to the TVs as though she’s considering my offer. After several moments she simply says, “No.”
    “What!” I jump to my feet.
    “I said, no!” she repeats. “Now, leave.” She waves her hand but never turns to face me. She only leans into one of the pictures dancing across a monitor, hoping to catch someone doing something they shouldn’t.
    I consider telling her that Perpetua just beat me up, but I know it won’t do any good. Angry, I bolt through the hall, and march right out the front doors of the Academy. If Terease can admit Perpetua back into school, she can admit me a free pass out of this place—alone.
    As I leave, racing down the front stairs, I glance over to the mirror school. The west Washington Square Academy, the one for the Normals . They have absolutely no clue how lucky they are to be just that—normal. And for the first time since I learned that I’m a Wanderer, I wish I were normal too.
    I run out of the courtyard, past the obelisk, with no particular destination in mind. Physical activity helps release my anxieties. Thankful that I put on tennis shoes, I open my stride, running and pushing my muscles. I inhale the September Chicago breeze and decide not to look back, at least for a few hours.
    Running around the city allows me to feel ordinary. I think about things that I generally don’t when I’m locked away in the inner sanctum of the school: the smell of pizza, parents playing with their children in the park, cars sitting in traffic, a shopkeeper sweeping his front walk, and music.
    Even music, the thing that I loved most in my “Normal” life has taken a backseat to my Wandering life. The urge to write, to sing, to create a melody are gone. Finding my mom, being a Wanderer, becoming a better fighter, Bishop, and every other high school drama consumes my mind. There’s no place for music now. The speed at which my priorities in life have changed scares me. What will I be a year from now? Ten years? Will I even recognize myself?
    When I return to school, it’s three hours later. I calculate that I’ve run at least the length of a marathon, maybe more. Somehow, in the last several months, my physical prowess has changed, along with my heightened emotional volatility.
    I walk around the golden obelisk in the school’s courtyard. I reach my arms high above my head and shake out my legs. Unfortunately, no amount of stretching will save me from the world of ache I’ll feel tomorrow. I bend over and touch my toes, feeling the scabs on my back pull and crack.
    Sensing someone staring, I glance at the East Academy. Bishop stands at his bedroom window, looking out, his face expressionless. One hand rests on the window frame. He doesn’t wave or acknowledge that our eyes have met. He only turns and disappears from view, letting the curtains drape closed.
    I can’t run away from him forever. And if he’s bent on breaking up, I’ll have to accept it. The run has given me some clarity, allowing a peaceful place for my