Page 28 of An Academy for Liars

“You don’t have to if you just do what I’m telling you to do. The explanations, the understanding, that’ll all come later. My focus now is making sure you live to see that day. Do you understand?”

Emerson entered the room before Lennon had the chance to answer.

Dante turned to look at her. “Well?”

“Emergency hearing,” said Emerson.

“When?”

“Now, according to Eileen.”

Dante hung his head. “Fuck.”

The hearing was to take place in Irvine Hall. Lennon and Emerson walked there together, Dante staying behind to tie up loose ends, whatever that meant. It was a foggy evening, and Lennon felt like the two of them were wading more than walking to Irvine. They were silent until they reached its doors and Lennon, turning to Emerson with a pit in her stomach, asked the question she’d been holding back. “Am I going to be expelled?”

“I doubt Dante will allow that to happen,” said Emerson.

“Does he have the power to prevent it?”

“If it’s put to a vote…perhaps not. But you should know by now that he’s incredibly convincing. You don’t have anything to worry about. You’ll be okay.”

Upon entering Irvine, they were ushered up to an oblong conference room on the second floor of the building. It had no windows. There was an oval table at the center of the room. Seated around it were most of Drayton’s tenured professors—Dr. Lund from meditation; Dr. Ethel Greene, who presided over Lennon’s Art and Ego course; Benedict from Lennon’s entry interview, who smiled tightly at Lennon. The vice-chancellor, Eileen, sat at the head of the table. There was a glossy black rotary phone in front of her.

Eileen gestured to one of two empty chairs at the table. “Have a seat, Lennon. Make yourself comfortable. Emerson, you can go.”

“But Dante—”

“Is not the one leading this hearing. I am.”

Emerson looked at Lennon, gave an apologetic shrug, and left the room. When she was gone, Eileen turned on her. “Perhaps we ought to begin with a verbal account of exactly what it was that you saw after exiting the elevator.”

“But Dante isn’t here,” said Lennon, feeling trapped, like at any moment she might accidentally say something damning. “I was under the impression he’d be present.”

“I can’t account for his absence, nor can I afford to wait for him. Now answer the question: What did you see after exiting the elevator?”

Heeding Dante’s warning, Lennon kept her answer short and simple. “I saw Drayton when the doors opened.”

There was an ensuing volley of questions.

“What time of day was it?” Ethel Greene demanded.

“It was night.”

Eileen deftly twirled a pen with a ripple of her pale fingers. “Did you see anyone?”

“No,” said Lennon, delivering her first lie of the hearing in a careful deadpan.

“And did the campus look the same way you remembered it?” Eileen inquired, pressing for more, but more of what Lennon didn’t know. Was she trying to catch her in a lie? Or was there something specific she was fishing for?

“Everything looked the same to me. It’s just that I was in one part of campus and the doors opened to another. It was really nothing more than that.”

The questions came faster after that, delivered with the urgency of someone trying to squeeze out their last words before a trigger was pulled.

“How did you open that gate?” Dr. Lund inquired from down the table.

“I—I don’t know.”

A woman Lennon didn’t recognize spoke from beside him: “You don’t know, or you won’t say?”

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