Sacrifices Read Free Page B

that. They had no money and no families, and they were in the middle of Montana. And Oakhurst wouldn’t just let them walk away. Until they had a good plan, they had to hide right here, in plain sight, and pretend they didn’t know what was really going on. It was hard, when Breakthrough was trying to subtly—and not so subtly—recruit them. They couldn’t just blow them off.
    But Muirin’s taking things too far.
    Sitting here worrying about it wouldn’t change anything, and Spirit forced herself to her feet with a groan. If she didn’t rehydrate, she’d feel even worse than she did now. She opened her dorm-fridge and regarded the contents with resigned disgust. When she’d arrived here, you’d been allowed to choose what your fridge was stocked with. Now you took what they gave you—which was bottled water and sports drinks. She grabbed a bottle of Gatorade and flopped back down on the couch. But despite her best intentions, she couldn’t stop worrying.
    Merlin—Mordred—magic powers—Shadow Knights—we have to do something, but nobody’s going to believe what’s going on here even if we can get out and tell them.
    Shower, Spirit thought firmly. If she didn’t shower before dinner she wouldn’t be able to stand herself—and all those bruises would stiffen up. Shower, she told herself again, pushing herself to her feet.
    *   *   *
    She looked longingly at her bed as she walked back into the bedroom. She had half an hour before dinner, but if she lay down she’d fall asleep—and missing dinner would suck beyond the telling. She pulled her robe more firmly around her and sat down at the computer instead. Email it is, she thought with a sigh, tapping her laptop awake. Who knows? Maybe there’ll be another exciting Motivational Message.
    But what was waiting for her was worse.
    I’ve been drafted? Spirit thought in disbelief, staring at her screen. The email in her inbox notified her she was now on the Dance Committee—along with Maddie Harris, Kylee Williamson, Zoey Young, Christopher Terry, and (oh joy) Dylan. She was replacing Ashley Fowler (you’d think, from the tone of the email, that Ashley had just resigned, instead of vanishing two weeks ago).
    As if I didn’t have enough to do! she thought.
    It was bad enough she’d heard since the day she arrived at Oakhurst that Dance Committee was a seething cauldron of face-to-face flamewars and infighting—Addie had been on it through the New Year’s Dance, and had told Spirit stories that made her laugh even as she winced in sympathy. And that was bad enough. But being on the Dance Committee would mean she was constantly aware of the countdown to the next dance. Today was March 2nd. The next dance was the Spring Fling on March 22nd. Every dance so far has been the scene of some kind of magical disaster.
    She was terrified to imagine what was going to happen at the Spring Equinox.
    *   *   *
    Spirit scurried into the Refectory and took her place on the line that wound back and forth among the tables like a mutinous snake. There was a stack of plastic trays on a table near the doorway to the kitchen. When she’d arrived last September, Oakhurst had pretended it was grooming them to take their places as “the movers and shakers of tomorrow” and meals had been all about fine dining and company manners, with china, silver, crystal—and waitstaff. Even breakfast had been a field of etiquette land mines. Now Oakhurst was a school under siege. The food was still several steps up from school cafeteria food, but it was served cafeteria style—on plastic trays, with plastic glasses, paper napkins, and stainless steel flatware. Quiche and pâté were things of the past, and so were menu choices—unless it would absolutely kill you (literally), you had to eat it. The vegans were really suffering, because pretty much everything on the menu included an animal product of some kind. Some of them were still holding out, but a lot of them had caved.