It took Fern, Nika, and Cassia working together to drag Vipsania out of her sleeping bag the next morning, and by the time they succeeded all four of them had missed breakfast and had to start the planned hike on an empty stomach. They weren’t going all the way to the peak, but that didn’t make much of a difference to Fern, who had no hiking experience to speak of and found it difficult to enjoy the brisk morning air and the cheerful singing of the birds when she kept thinking about how hungry she was and how Vipsania was the one to blame for it. She kept slipping on loose rocks and getting mud on her jeans, and the sweater she was wearing felt nowhere near warm enough for the early fall weather.
After about an hour and a half of trudging up a rocky, winding path, they reached a clearing on the southern slope of the mountain that gave them a view of the entire valley. There were rolling mountains on all sides, and the dense trees were just beginning to change. It was a lovely view, but Fern wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it. The smoke coming from the chimney of the hunting lodge far below reminded her of lunch, and she was relieved to discover that Dr. Strathmore—herself a surprisingly energetic outdoorswoman—had brought a knapsack full of savory snacks that helped tide Fern and the others over during their long descent back down into the valley. Fern was sure she could have never made it back to camp without the two granola bars Dr. Strathmore had passed her, or Lyra’s brother Lorenzo lending her the hiking stick he’d carved with his pocket knife. The only person who didn’t grumble all the way back was Dean. He picked his way down the paths with relative ease, always keeping his eyes on the trail and paying no attention to the beautiful surroundings. Only the way he kept pulling his leather jacket closer showed that he wasn’t immune to the cold.
By the time they made it back to their campsite, it was time for an early lunch. Fern was glad that their morning’s tribulations were finally over, and she could finally give her legs a rest. The Rothko Scholars ate together near Dr. Strathmore’s tent, which was as decidedly Edwardian and Art Nouveau as her classroom and outfit, and wouldn’t have seemed out of place in an archeological dig in the Valley of the Kings. Fern was exhausted, and was relieved to have a chance to sit down in a comfortable chair, sip a cup of warm coffee, and listen while the others talked.
“What exactly is a ‘Fear Factory,’ Vipsania?” asked Dr. Strathmore, glancing at the shirt Vipsania had hastily selected that morning.
“Just a band,” said Vipsania, downing the third cup of coffee that Dr. Strathmore had offered her. “You wouldn’t like ‘em.”
“I have liked some of the bands you’ve chosen to advertise, Vipsania. ‘Emilie Autumn’ turned out to be quite lovely.”
“Trust me on this one,” said Vipsania. She took a huge bite of her grilled cheese sandwich. Vipsania was always a voracious eater, and going without breakfast had made her even hungrier than usual.
“Remember that we’ll be kayaking across the lake this afternoon,” said Dr. Strathmore. “Don’t wander off with the common herd. Any of you have any experience?”
Dean reluctantly raised his hand.
“Well, you’ll have to give the others some pointers,” said Dr. Strathmore pleasantly. “Although it’s not exactly a challenging trip.”
“Is Dr. Goddard coming with us?” asked Lucas.
“Oh, Maurice likes the outdoors, but only if there’s some sort of competition involved,” said Dr. Strathmore, pouring herself yet another cup of coffee. “It will just be us, I’m afraid.”
“Fine with me,” said Vipsania. “Ugh, can you imagine? ‘Miss Montagnese, you must pull the paddle with more, uh, vigor. What’s life without a little soreness in the limbs, hmm?’ I would die.”
Fern snorted. It was an absolutely uncanny impression of Dr. Goddard, especially coming from someone less than half his size.
“Oh, he’ll get his hands on some of you later this evening,” said Dr. Strathmore. “He used to be a wrestler, you know. He always tries to goad the young men into trying their luck in the ring.”
Lucas sniffed, as though he were quite certain he could handle Dr. Goddard man-to-man, even if he was a former wrestler. Vipsania rolled her eyes.
“Is… that permitted?” asked Fern. “Wrestling students, I mean?”
“Well, no one’s ever been seriously hurt,” Dr. Strathmore smiled. “Usually after he puts one or two of the burlier young men in a full nelson, their enthusiasm rather wanes.”
It was warming up as Fern and Vipsania set out for their tent to change for the trip across the lake. Fern would have preferred to take her chances in her ordinary clothes, but Dr. Strathmore insisted that they needed to wear bathing suits under their life jackets. Time was short, and Vipsania made things more difficult than necessary by throwing her discarded clothes at Fern and then pretending to ask for tips. Lucas and Dean were already waiting for them when they reached the lakeshore, and Dr. Strathmore immediately launched into a quick lesson on how to handle a kayak.
“You seem rather intimidated, Fern,” she whispered at the end of her demonstration.
“I’ll be alright,” said Fern, although she surreptitiously adjusted her life jacket as soon as Dr. Strathmore turned away. She was dragging her kayak down to the water’s edge when she heard Vipsania whispering over her shoulder.
“You know, Fernie—.”
“No,” said Fern firmly. “No lake monsters, or skeletons in diving suits, or man-fish hybrids, or underwater ghouls, thank you very much.”
Vipsania’s lips curled into a smirk.
“I was just gonna say you look kinda cute in that bathing suit. Lucas was checking you out.”
“I’ll take the lake monsters,” said Fern staunchly. “How many do you have?”
It took about half an hour for them to reach the opposite shore of the lake, where the treeline pulled back a little and the rocky shore provided an easy place to land their kayaks. It was easy going, and Fern found that she could handle her little boat well enough as long as she kept Vispania close by. Still, Fern was the last to pull her kayak ashore, and she was relieved to see that Dr. Strathmore had again brought snacks. They sat down together on a picnic blanket and enjoyed the warm sun and the quiet stillness of the lake for a while. Lucas and Dean skipped rocks, Vipsania stretched out rather immodestly across the blanket, and Fern secretly checked the immediate vicinity for any signs that might confirm the story of human-hunting Vipsania had told her the night before. There were no bullet holes in any of the trees or bones sticking out of the ground, and soon her mind drifted back to Bancroft, wondering what her parents were doing and whether her old schoolmates had already forgotten her.
Fern was just beginning to think hopefully about her ability to handle their journey back across the lake when Dean Calvert suddenly turned to her.
“You paddled that canoe like you’ve never seen a boat before.”
“Hey, be nice,” said Vipsania, propping herself up on her elbows. “Not everyone spends their summers in the Swiss Alps, rich boy.”
It was a better comeback than Fern could have managed, and she was surprised to see that Dean had retreated before Vipsania’s stinging rebuke. He looked away, brushed his dark hair out of his face, then glanced back at Fern.
“There’s nothing wrong with telling the truth.”
“If you use it to build other people up,” said Fern. “When’s the last time you paid anyone a compliment?”
Dr. Strathmore raised her eyebrows, as if to tell Dean that Fern had a point. He brooded for a while, then turned to Fern once again.
“You probably couldn’t tell a lie if you wanted, could you?”
It was a strange sort of compliment, but it made Fern’s heart flutter all the same. She watched Dean closely for the entire journey back across the lake. She told herself she was only trying to get some pointers on how to paddle a kayak, and that Dean obviously knew what he was doing, but Vipsania wasn’t fooled.
“You’ll take anything from him, won’t you?” said Vipsania as they pulled their boats back up onto the banks near the campsite. “I’m supposed to be the one with low standards, Fernie.”
The highlight of the second day of camp was supposed to be the cookout and bonfire, which was held in a clearing halfway between the boys’ and girls’ campsites and a hundred yards from the lodge. Dr. Goddard, Mr. Aspinall, and the male counselors built up the flames, while Dr. Strathmore and Father Britt—the Jesuit priest who doubled as the school psychologist—prepared hobo dinners in aluminum foil and put sausages onto long metal skewers. The smell was wonderful, and Fern’s mouth was watering by the time Dr. Strathmore started passing out the food. Mr. Aspinall played on his banjo—of course he had a banjo, Fern thought—the boys threw more sticks into the bonfire, and night gradually settled over the valley.
When Fern came back from getting seconds, she noticed that Vipsania was gone from the log where they’d been sitting. Probably she’d just wandered off to find the bathroom or to beg food off someone else—she’d had no luck with Fern—but Fern still felt disappointed to find herself alone. She could have tried to sit with some of the other girls, but as she watched the bonfire flames dance and flicker, it gradually dawned on her that she hadn’t made as much progress in making friends at Marbrose Catholic as she’d thought. Lyra and Cassia certainly wouldn’t mind her company, but she didn’t see either of them around the campfire, and Nika—her only other friend—was off taking a girl who was feeling sick to the lodge. And that was it. There was no one else she felt really comfortable around—no one else who liked her for herself. She glanced around at the other freshmen—the people she’d seen in her other classes and at lunch and in the dorms—and she felt an unbearable sense of aloneness that she hadn’t felt since her first few nights at Marbrose Catholic. Fall camp was supposed to help the freshmen class grow closer together.
For Fern, it was doing the opposite.
Almost without thinking, Fern got up and walked back through the woods towards the hunting lodge. She wasn’t sure if this was even allowed, but no one stopped her. Perhaps she had a vague hope of running into Nika—or maybe she just wanted to get away from that feeling of being alone yet surrounded by people. Whatever the case, she found herself sitting at the top of the stairs in the lodge, praying softly even though there was no one to hear.
“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me bring love. Where there is offence, let me bring pardon. Where there is discord, let me bring union. Where there is error, let me bring truth.”
It seemed like such a futile plea. Fern thought back to what Dr. Goddard had said on the first day of their arrival at Marbrose Catholic. “This is just the beginning of your journey to greatness.” It had been a strange journey so far. And there was certainly no greatness in sight.
Fern had been so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the door to the lodge open. She did notice the steps coming up the main stairs, but she didn’t look up. She assumed it was Nika, perhaps having been sent to look for her, or maybe one of the other students looking for the bathroom. But then she saw the person’s black combat boots, and caught the familiar scent of his cologne.
Dean Calvert sat down next to her.
“Hi,” he said softly.
“Oh, um, hello,” said Fern in surprise. “I guess I’m not the only one who doesn’t care for bonfires.”
Dean didn’t reply. He seemed to be brooding over something, and Fern wondered if he’d just picked the step beside as a place to do it without any intention of talking to her. For about five minutes, neither of them said anything.
“You don’t really fit in here, do you?” he asked abruptly.
Fern frowned. It was annoying to have Dean Calvert seemingly reading her thoughts.
“I do my best. I’ve made some friends, and I… well, I’m used to being a little lonely. But I have Vipsania, and Nika. Though I suppose neither of them really fit in either.”
“So you don’t fit in. That’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not here.”
He frowned down at the door of the lodge, where the silhouettes of two students had just run past.
“You’re smart to be lonely, but you shouldn’t have come here. You have to believe in it to fit in—all that crud about how great Marbrose City is. You’re Vipsania’s friend, so you know. A Catholic school where half the kids’ parents are mobsters, and the other half grovel before Henry Galt. They think just because I’m a Calvert that I want to be like them. I’m not like them. I never will be.”
There was a marked note of contempt in his voice.
“Why did you come to Marbrose Catholic, then?” said Fern. “If you didn’t want to fit in?”
Dean glanced at her, but without the suspicion that usually marked his gaze.
“Fairbanks, my family’s butler, is my legal guardian. It was his choice. If it were up to me, I’d still be in Europe.”
“Where were you in Europe?” asked Fern. Dean shrugged slightly.
“Paris. Munich. Lisbon. Rome. My family has a country home outside Bristol, but we never spent more than a few weeks at a time there. I guess that was my… address. If I had to have one.”
“You make it sound like nowhere was home.”
He nodded.
“Yeah. I don’t need a home.”
“It’s a terrible thing not to have a home,” said Fern. “I… wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
Dean scoffed, but then he saw from Fern’s eyes that she was serious, and the wry smile vanished from his face.
“Why are you and Vipsania nice to me?” he asked.
“I… didn’t realize we were,” said Fern hesitantly.
“Everyone else wants something from me. They’re either afraid of me or they want my family’s money. To them, I’m nothing but my father’s son. It makes me sick.”
“Why would anyone be afraid of you?” asked Fern.
Something flashed into Dean’s eyes. His breathing subtly quickened, and Fern noticed that his hands were twisting in his lap.
“You must really be clueless if you have to ask.”
Dean looked up at the moon, which was just visible in the window opposite the lodge’s main stairs. Fern wondered if the conversation was over, but Dean didn’t leave. It was almost like he was waiting for her to say something—challenging her to put him in his place like she did when they played chess and he threw a casual insult across the table.
“Dean,” Fern said, “there is… something going on. Me and Vipsania—.”
“She told me,” Dean interrupted. “About what you heard in Father Rohrbach’s office. I knew this would happen. I knew there was some reason they wanted me back here. They didn’t like relying on Fairbanks to watch me. This way, they think they’ve got me under control. They think they can win me back to the Imperium.”
He exhaled through his nose. He was staring straight ahead, and Fern thought she could see hatred glimmering in his eyes.
“Dean,” Fern ventured. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I—.”
“You can’t help,” Dean almost snarled.
“Why?”
“Because you think people are good, and that lying is wrong, and that everything turns out right in the end. Because you still pray. You don’t know anything about the real world. Neither does Vipsania. She thinks she does, but…”
He sniffed dismissively. Despite her feelings for him, Fern felt suddenly annoyed.
“Maybe I don’t know much about the real world,” said Fern coldly. “But it sounds like you grew up idling your way around Europe and spending as much money as you pleased. I… I know that could never make up for losing your parents. But the world that you’ve lived in—the world of private planes and luxury apartments and summers on the Riviera—that’s not the world the rest of us live in. Some of us can’t afford medical bills. Some of us can’t afford leather jackets and chauffeurs and canoeing trips in the Swiss Alps. Some of us are… grateful for what we have, even if it isn’t much. So maybe you don’t know as much about the real world as you think.”
She delivered the last line with such passion that Dean looked slightly startled. At any other time, Fern would have been worried that she had offended him, but she was too angry with him to care. She was angry at his bitterness and his inability to see beyond his own suffering. She would have given anything to bring his parents back—to give him back the love and safety he’d lost that night. But she wasn’t sure he would. To Dean Calvert, his parents’ death was his entire life—the thing that defined everything and everyone else for him. He needed them to be dead. It was a horrible thought, but Fern couldn’t shake it.
“You don’t—.”
“Aha!” said a booming voice behind them.
Fern and Dean both jumped, turning to see Dr. Goddard standing over them, smiling broadly. There was a twinkle of mischief in his eye, like he was sure he’d just caught them in a very compromising position.
“Well, well,” he said. “Two miscreants—and Rothko Scholars, too. Surely you two know that you’re breaking, uh, two of our most important rules. No intimate one-on-ones with the opposite sex, and sneaking out after curfew.”
“Sneaking out?”
Fern looked at her watch. It was a full half-hour after curfew. Her stomach tensed.
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Goddard,” she said. “We… lost track of time. I would never—.”
“Oh, think nothing of it,” said Dr. Goddard, patting her on the shoulder. “When a young man and, uh, young lady get to talking, time often seems to… disappear. But I don’t see evidence of anything more than talking.”
Fern felt her face turning red. Dean was gazing determinedly down at his shoes.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Ah, well, there seems to be no, uh, harm in it. But come now, there’s Mass in the morning. I know Miss Kubelsky wouldn’t miss it. Off, off, off to bed! Let’s see if we can’t find someone to make sure you both end up back where you, uh, belong.”
Nika was just outside the lodge and escorted Fern back to her tent without so much as a quick look of censure. It quickly became obvious to Fern that she was far from the only freshman who was violating curfew that night, and unlike the other students, her infringement had been accidental. Vipsania wasn’t in their tent, and Cassia and Lyra’s tent was also empty. For about five minutes, Fern waited expectantly, but Nika didn’t return with any of them, nor did Lucilla. Fern had just settled down to her evening prayers when the tent flap opened and her roommate almost staggered inside. For a moment, she didn’t seem to realize Fern was there. She jumped a little when her eyes slipped over to the spot where Fern was sitting, and an embarrassed smile crept over her face.
“Aha,” she said, her speech slurring. “Hiya, Fernie. Fancy meeting you… in our tent.”
She giggled, and Fern’s suspicions were immediately aroused.
“Vipsania,” said Fern pointedly. “Are you drunk?”
“That depends on your definition,” said Vipsania slyly. Her cheeks were flushed, and she seemed to be having trouble keeping Fern in focus.
“Fine,” said Fern. “Have you been drinking alcohol?”
“Don’t ask questions you don’t wanna know the answer to, Fernie.”
“Vipsania.”
“Okay, fine. I was drinking, and I am drunk. So, so drunk. One of the juniors smuggled some whiskey along, and I had… four shots of it. I think it was four. Yeah, four. Four shots of whiskey. There. Are you happy?”
Vipsania giggled at the look of horror on Fern’s face.
“S’fall camp tradition, Fernie. God, wait until you see Lucas in the morning. If you think I’m drunk...”
She seemed to suddenly realize that she was only lowering herself in Fern’s opinion and slumped down on the sleeping bag beside her.
“Ugh, Fernie, you really make me feel guilty when you’re like this. Geez, you’re gonna turn me in to Lucilla, aren’t you?”
“No,” said Fern. “I don’t think I’ll have to. I’m sure she’ll recognize the signs in the morning.”
“You shoulda seen Lyra,” said Vipsania, resting her head on Fern’s shoulder. “When she gets drunk, she starts hitting on everybody. And I mean everybody.”
“I’m not talking about Lyra,” said Fern, even as she felt a twinge of disappointment that Vipsania wasn’t her only suitemate who’d gotten drunk that night. “I’m talking about you.”
Vipsania groaned.
“Look, I’m gonna talk about it at confession when we get back,” she said. “Forgive me, Father, for I have ginned.”
“You said it was whiskey.”
“Never let the facts get in the way of a good pun,” said Vipsania. She leaned over and started to pull off her sneakers. Fern was torn between disappointment in Vipsania’s life choices and concern for the potential consequences if she was caught—especially if her sister had any say in them.
“So, where were you?” asked Vipsania, clearly trying to feign being much more sober than she really was. “I lost you at the bonfire.”
“In the lodge,” said Fern. She almost stopped there, but added. “Talking to Dean.”
Vipsania raised an eyebrow.
“Ooh. Just the two of ya?”
“Yes,” said Fern, feeling her face turn red. “It wasn’t… planned that way. I just happened to be sitting on the stairs, and he sat down next to me, and… we talked.”
“You talked? About what? You're not trying to steal my date, are you, Fernie?”
“No!” Fern exclaimed. “I was… we were just talking. You can ask him about it if you don’t believe me.”
“I believe you, Fernie,” said Vipsania. “But I also know you kinda got the hots for him, and it sounds to me like you were treading dangerously close to temptation.”
“Said the girl who did four shots of whiskey.”
“Fernie, I’m gonna be honest with you… it might have been five. I don’t remember.”
Fern sighed. Clearly she wasn’t going to get any sense out of Vipsania tonight.
“Is this my bed?” her roommate asked.
“No, it’s mine,” said Fern. “That’s yours.”
Vipsania looked at her own sleeping bag, which was less than two feet away but which she seemed to think would require a herculean effort to actually reach.
“You wanna cuddle?”
“Sleep in your own bed,” said Fern firmly. Vipsania let out a long sigh, then nearly crawled across the tent to her sleeping bag. She didn’t bother taking off the rest of her clothes, but simply flopped into bed like she’d done an honest day’s work. Fern reached over and turned down the lamp.
“I don’t feel good.”
“That is not even remotely surprising,” said Fern.
Vipsania held up her middle finger, but kept her head on her pillow.
“I need some water. Have you got any water, Fern?”
“Possibly,” said Fern. “Let me check my bag.”
She leaned over and began to dig through her backpack. She had just found a water bottle left over from the bus trip on the previous day when she suddenly realized that something was missing.
“It’s gone!” Fern exclaimed.
“What’s gone?”
“The book,” said Fern, starting to pull everything out of her bag. “The one you lent me.”
Vipsania sprang up and helped Fern in the search. They unpacked her entire backpack and looked under all her things, but the book was nowhere to be found.
“I didn’t take it anywhere,” said Fern in consternation. “I left it in the tent—in my backpack.”
Vipsania chewed her tongue, her brow furrowed with as much concentration as she could muster after four (or possibly five) shots of whiskey.
“Lucilla,” she said at last. “I bet she searched our tent while we were out on the lake. She saw you reading it on the bus, and maybe she…”
“Why would Lucilla steal a book?” asked Fern.
“Because it’s full of dangerous secrets,” said Vipsania, fixing her half-focused eyes on Fern. “Duh.”
Fern looked skeptical.
“What, like sea serpents?”
“There’s other stuff in that book,” said Vipsania grumpily. “Stuff about the Great Families, and my family, and… stuff Lucilla wouldn’t want you to know. Ugh, I bet she tossed in the lake. I love that book. I want my book back, Fernie.”
“Vipsania, if Lucilla really took it, there’s nothing we can do,” said Fern. “And, you know, she may have taken it because it was a stolen library book, not because—.”
“Liberated,” said Vipsania blearily. “I liberated it from the library.”
“Go to sleep, Vipsania,” said Fern. “We’ll find your liberated book in the morning.”
It took just a little more persuading before Vipsania was fast asleep in her sleeping bag and Fern turned the lamp off. For a long time, she couldn’t sleep. Her thoughts were full of Dean, and Vipsania, and the missing book. It wasn’t Vipsania’s drunkenness that really bothered her. Something was going on at Marbrose Catholic. It wasn’t a curse, but there was something wrong—something that had to do with the school, and Dean, and the Great Families of Marbrose City. She, and Dean, and Vipsania were going to find out what it was. That was her way to greatness.
That was what God wanted her to do.