Page 47 of An Academy for Liars

After their daily exercises were done, and all of the rats had been returned to their shared transport cage, Dante resumed his place at the head of the classroom. He leaned slightly on the lectern, studying his class. There was no one that his gaze missed, and Lennon could see the way her peers shrank down in their desks when it was their turn to be examined.

“What’s persuasion, in the simplest sense?” he inquired, a question he’d posed several times over the course of this semester. But Lennon had learned that when Dante posed a question like this, it was always because he was genuinely interested in the answer. While other professors seemed intent to herd their students toward a specific conclusion, Dante’s approach was more relaxed. He seemed interested in provoking conversation, if not debate, facilitating an exchange of opinions rather than fishing for the one he deemed most right.

Nadine’s hand shot up, and she stuttered on a near-unintelligible response about the human will.

Dante turned to the rest of the class. “Anyone else?”

Everyone began to talk over one another, the class dissolving into the recitation of textbook excerpts and reworded snippets of past lectures. The din waned and died completely. Dante frowned and looked down at his shoes. “There’s a saying on campus: Good lies are rewarded with belief. Great lies are rewarded with conviction. In my experience, persuasion is a great lie, well told.”

Lennon sensed, then, that he was talking to her. But a glance around the room at her other classmates told her she wasn’t the only one who felt Dante was speaking to them directly. Everyone looked enraptured, held by him, waiting for what he’d say next.

But Dante cut them loose. “That’s time.”

The classroom drained of students, Lennon lingering beside her desk as they passed her by. Ian was the last to leave, and Lennon sawthat his left hand was encased in a thick cast. Lennon realized they hadn’t spoken once since he’d failed to get into Logos. She had intended to reach out to him, but with everything going on with Benedict she just hadn’t had the time, and clearly he hadn’t made time for her either. She waved at him, but he just glared and turned his back on her.

“Watch that one,” said Dante as he gathered his things.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Watch him.” Dante nodded toward her bandaged hand. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine. It hurts sometimes, but the burns are healing up quick.”

“And your knees?”

She shrugged. “The scabs were gross the first two days, and it hurt to bend them. But they got better. Like I said, I’m fine.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I suppose you’ve heard your classes with Benedict have been canceled?”

She nodded. “He could’ve delivered that news himself.”

“He’s been under the weather.”

Here, Lennon faltered. “So, what, I’m just not going to learn how to use my elevators anymore?”

“I didn’t say that.” Dante turned then and rounded his desk. There was an overnight bag in his chair, and he lifted it, slung the strap over his shoulder. “You’ll be coming with me.”

“Coming with you where?”

“A brief outing. A work trip. I’ll be taking over your studies until Benedict is in a better place. This trip is part of those studies. We’ll be gone overnight, so pack a bag of essentials and meet me in Irvine Hall. You have twenty minutes.”

Lennon packed ina hurry, dodging questions from Blaine all the while. “So where are you going again?” she asked for the third time that evening.

“Out,” said Lennon, fishing a pair of socks from the top drawer of her dresser.

“With Dante?”

“Yes,” said Lennon, exasperated, “with Dante.”

Blaine leaned against the doorframe, mixing a clay mask in a mug with a spoon. “And this is some type of…field trip?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, sure. It’s part of his standing in for Benedict. Why do you care so much anyway?”

“It’s just weird,” said Blaine. “You never leave.”

“That’s categorically untrue. I had classes with Benedict.”

“In Utah, apparently? Which I still don’t get. But what I meant was you don’t leave to go anywhere outside of your classes. No parties. No social events. Nothing. And now, all of a sudden, this.”

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