Free Type by Alicia Hendley Page A

quickly open the note.
    I’M WAITING
    My hands start to shake and I drop the paper on the floor, before stepping over it with my shoe. “You? But why? How? Why?” I can feel my cheeks get hot and my whole body start to tremble.
    “You mean, how did I find out about your little secret?” he asks, grinning.
    I nod, my hands tightening into fists at my sides.
    “It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out,” he says, leaning against the wall. “Let’s just say that ever since your little buddy Aaron arrived, he’s been driving everyone in the dorm nuts about his little best friend, Sophie. How much he misses her, how much he wishes he could talk to her. What she was like, how different she was from all of the boring ISTJers here. How you’d always get in his face, all hyper and wanting to do stuff, like put on little skits for people or go to some party. Constant excitement, that’s how he described you!” He grins again. “Little girl, I knew you were an Extra before I even saw you. We all did.”
    “All of you?”
    “Yeah, our whole floor did. At least until you showed up here and then all the guys thought that Aaron must have been crazy. Because how could a little ISTJer ever do all of the things he said you did?”
    “You thought Aaron was crazy?”
    “Not me, little girl, the other idiots here. As I said, I knew you were an Extra before I even saw you. And now that I’ve seen you, I know for sure.”
    “But, how?” my voice comes out as a whisper, even softer than the shyest girl in our class, Heather.
    Noah shrugs. “It takes one to know one,” he says.
    I feel my cheeks get even redder and my mind go blank. “But…you, too?”
    “You didn’t invent the art of lying, kiddo,” he says. He sticks out his hand for me to shake. “Welcome to the club. I’ve been waiting for you.”

    CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    It is safe to predict that in the near future intelligence tests will bring tens of thousands of…high-grade defectives under the surveillance and protection of society… This will ultimately result in curtailing the reproduction of feeble-mindedness…
    —Lewis Terman
    For the next few days, I try to keep my distance from Noah, only glancing his way when I’m sure he’s not looking. While there’s a little part of me that’s relieved there is someone here that knows (other than Mr. Smug/I’m So Superior Aaron, that is), most of me is terrified. Noah isn’t someone you can trust. He’s a wild card.
    I sit down next to Emily for History of Type and try and concentrate on what she’s telling me. I’ve never met someone so excited about learning before. If nothing else, listening to her talk about what she just read in the textbook is distracting. She’s someone to trust, at least. If only I could tell her.
    Dr. Witmer walks into the room and writes MENTAL ILLNESS across the blackboard. He then turns to face the class, his stomach greeting us first. “Today I would like to discuss with you the differences between what we refer to as psychogenic mental illness and the more sinister genetic disorder. As I’m sure most of you are aware, by psychogenic I mean those illnesses that originate from psychic or psychological factors, rather than organic or genetic ones. In other words, these are mental illnesses which tend to be triggered by someone’s personality, or by the uncertainties, vagaries, and stressors of daily life.”
    Jana puts up her hand.
    “Yes, Ms. Jones?”
    “What stressors, sir?”
    “That’s a good question, a good question. What stressors, indeed!” Dr. Witmer smiles broadly, his face looking like someone who just won a million dollars. “It is thanks to The Association’s hard work during the last fifty years at trying to eradicate psychogenic mental illness altogether that you can even ask that question, young lady!”
    Jana smiles to herself, as if her question was something brilliant. I roll my eyes at her, but I don’t think she notices.
    “Unfortunately for