Page 48 of An Academy for Liars

Lennon zipped up her duffel bag. “Why is it that when youdisappear in the middle of the night, you’re not made to account for yourself, but when I do it it’s such a problem?”

“That’s a false equivalence.”

“How so?”

“I go out to work,” she said matter-of-factly. It was the first time she’d ever referred to her nightly absences as work adjacent, or referred to them at all really, and it took Lennon by surprise. She’d simply assumed she had some secret boyfriend, maybe a professor, that she didn’t want to own up to. Lennon was tempted to press her for more, but Blaine changed the subject before she had the chance. “Thisthingwith Dante is different.”

Lennon stuffed a fistful of panties into her bag. “Different how?”

“I don’t know. A roguish young professor traveling alone with his charge.”

“Dante isn’t like that.”

“And you know this how?”

“I just don’t get that impression from him. He’s solid.”

“Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t. But I guess the better question is, are you?”

Lennon looked up, exasperated. “What are you getting at, Blaine?”

“It’s just…there are already rumors about us.”

“Rumors?”

“Rumors about why we got into Logos with the grades we had while others with higher grades didn’t. And with you in particular there’s the situation with Ian—”

“What situation?”

“Apparently, he’s furious that you got in and he didn’t. And even more furious, understandably, about how you put a knife through his hand and very nearly crippled him. Lennon, he’s saying things about you…and Dante.”

“What exactly did he say?”

“Nothing to me,” said Blaine. “But I heard he’s been running his mouth a lot. Saying you two hooked up and that you used him as a stepping stone to get into Logos and that now that you got what you wanted from him you’ve tossed him out and gone on to Sawyer or Dante or whoever else.”

Lennon felt a surge of fury at the thought. She’d known Ian was jealous and sometimes petty, but the Ian she’d known had been honest too. He knew she had talent, and she’d thought he was smart enough to tell that she wasn’t the sort of person who got ahead academically by strategically fucking her way up the social ladder. But then she remembered telling him—in the dark of night—about Wyatt and his house and his money and all of the therapies and doctors and treatments that he’d paid for. She wondered if she’d revealed too much, given him the wrong impression.

“That bastard,” said Lennon, shaking her head. “I fuck him a handful of times and he thinks I owe him my entire academic career? Fuck him.”

Blaine hung her head. Strangely, she looked ashamed. “We have to be careful. No one on this campus thinks we earned our beds here honorably, if you know what I mean. And now that you’re running off with Dante—”

“You don’t need to worry about me,” said Lennon, irritated now. She knew that Blaine was well-meaning, but couldn’t help but feel her line of questioning was a little intrusive, especially given her own frequent disappearing acts. “I’m not the one who spends every other night out doing god knows what. You call it work, but I have my doubts.”

Blaine flinched, looked away.

“I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”

“It’s fine,” said Blaine, in the clipped way that people do when they’re wriggling out of further conversation. She forced a smile. “Hope you have a good trip. Bring me back something pretty? I like cheap souvenirs. Bit of a pack rat in that way.”

“Yeah,” said Lennon, grateful to her for smoothing over the tail end of that awkward exchange. Blaine was good like that, forgiving. “I’ll see what I can find.”

Lennon left Logos House and found Dante on the stairs of Irvine Hall, smoking a cigarette, which he stubbed out on the head of one of the two gargoyles posted at the entrance. He flicked the filter into the chrysanthemum bushes as she approached. “Let’s head out.”

She followed him to the elevator that she’d first entered Drayton through. Dante pushed the down button and moments later its doors yawned open. They stepped into the cabin. It was mirrored on all sides, even the floor and ceiling.

“You might want to brace yourself,” said Dante, leaning forward to press the7button. As soon as he issued the warning, the elevator gave a violent lurch. Dante remained standing with his legs firmly planted, but Lennon staggered, only avoiding crashing headfirst into the elevator panel because Dante caught her by the arm. She managed to find her footing, adjusting to the pressure of the g-forces that seemed to bear down both from above and below at once, which was impossible.

She felt the aberration looking at her before she saw it in the mirrored walls of the cabin. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and a haunted feeling came over her, as though she was on the cusp of some horrible tragedy she couldn’t avoid. She turned her head, caught sight of its leering grin out of her periphery—

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