CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Physics was the last class period of the day, just like it was for Winnie back home. Of course, here there was one major difference: when she walked in the room, it was Mama standing at the front of the class. Winnie expected this, but still, walking in and seeing Mama there sent a wave of mixed worry and relief surging through her stomach.
Mama wore a tailored suit, and her hair was as perfectly coiffed as it had been when they left home in the morning. Winnie had assumed Mama would be well-liked as a teacher, but now, seeing her there, she had a feeling that students were just as intimidated by her as they were by Mr. Claremont back home. She felt a little flash of pride.
Mama’s expression was tense, and Winnie felt a momentary jab of fear that Mama knew everything.
Then she noticed Hawthorn sitting in the back corner.
He had two men with him. The men weren’t in uniform, but they had a martial look to them, haircuts high and tight and posture perfect. These were military men; Winnie was sure of it. She had to get out of here.
But where would she go? And how could she leave now without looking incredibly suspicious?
For now, Winnie took a seat up near the front of the class. She wanted to be as far from their classroom observers as possible.
Of all the classes of hers Hawthorn could have shown up to, why this one?
The answer came to her immediately, making her feel stupid.
Hawthorn wanted to send a message. A message that said, “Look how easily I can access your family.”
And “Think about how easily I could take them from you.”
And “None of you are safe.”
Winnie decided that if it came down to it, she would turn herself over to Hawthorn. She wouldn’t let anyone else get hurt. But especially not them.
Winnie jumped in her seat when the bell rang. She could feel Hawthorn’s eyes on her. How delighted he must be to watch her squirm.
“First, let’s dispatch with the necessary,” Mama said now that class had officially begun. “Yes, there are three strange men sitting in the back of the classroom. Yes, it’s because of what happened in the gymnasium the other day. No, this does not mean we will be doing anything differently. Just ignore them. I’ve been assured they won’t be a disruption.
“I was pleased to learn that you behaved yourselves while I was in Boston. Mrs. Potter informed me that she was able to cover all the material I had hoped she would. So, thank you!
“Now, down to business. Today, we’ll be recreating Alessandro Volta’s ‘crown of cups’, an early electric battery. This will conclude our unit on electromotive force, and we all know what that means: there will be an exam covering this chapter of the text on Monday. So, if you have any lingering questions, make sure we address them this period.
“It was Luigi Galvani’s work with ‘animal electricity,’” Mama continued, “that led Volta to discover the electrochemical series—”
“I’m sorry, I’m a bit confused,” one of the military men interrupted briskly. “You’re having these girls build some kind of battery? I’m not sure that’s a suitable—”
“If you have a question, I’m afraid I’ll need you to raise your hand first,” Mama said, cutting him off, “and the only question I entertain in the middle of a lecture is ‘May I use the restroom.’ But don’t worry—the answer is always yes.”
A couple of the girls tittered. Winnie stole a glance back over her shoulder and saw the officer frowning while he jotted down a few vicious notes, but he kept his mouth shut. Next to him, the other officer—a younger, lanky man whose air of authority belied his age—was leaning back, smirking. There was something frightening in the expression.
Although it was thrilling to see Mama stand up to those Nightingale men, Winnie wished she would keep her mouth shut. These seemed like dangerous men to disrespect.
“Thank you,” Mama said, continuing with her lecture. “Now, as I was saying, Volta’s law of electrochemical series led to the invention of the voltaic pile, an early electric battery that operates by the same principle as the batteries we’ll be constructing today.”
She explained the setup of the experiment and what data they would be required to record, then set them loose to begin work with their lab partners while she circulated around the class, helping those students who needed it.
Winnie was working with one of her double’s friends, so she had to conceal the fact that she could construct a voltaic cell in her sleep.
“Which metals do you think we should use?” Winnie asked, pretending to skim through the experiment parameters in her lab manual, although she knew very well that silver and zinc would produce the highest charge.
“What? You usually seem to have all the answers ahead of time,” the girl sighed.
Shoot.
“Oh, um,” Winnie said. “Not today. Say, how about we try silver and zinc? I’ll go grab some.”
Winnie hadn’t thought about how close she would have to pass by Hawthorn to get to the equipment closet in the back of the classroom. She kept her head down, eyes trained on the ground, so she was taken completely by surprise when Hawthorn reached out and grabbed her wrist.
She made a little squeak of alarm and pulled her arm away.
“My, my, my, what happened to you, Ms. Schulde?”
Winnie’s breath quickened, and Hawthorn’s smile spread, like it fed on her discomfort. There seemed be an extra edge to him now. Was it a difference between Hawthorn here and the one back home? Or was he unraveling—something to do with James’s death, perhaps?
He reached his hand out toward the cut on her forehead. Winnie trembled in revulsion, anticipating his touch, but she was frozen in place. Thankfully, Mama hurried up and slapped Hawthorn’s hand away before he made any further contact.
“Get out of my classroom,” she said. “Now.”
“Ma’am,” the older officer said, “you assured us that there was no way your students were involved with whatever happened in that gym, or with that ship. We’re here to make sure that’s the case.”
“Really? You think schoolgirls dropped a warship outside Bloomingdale’s? The three of you don’t have anything better to do?” Mama shook her head in disgust. “I guess the real soldiers are on the front lines.”
Winnie was astonished by Mama’s audacity. She was afraid for her, but also impressed.
The younger of the two military men didn’t so much as twitch, but his entire face went beet red in fury. Winnie watched in paralyzed fascination as the florid color crept over his face, feeling like a rodent captivated by the cobra that was about to swallow it whole.
Winnie was keenly aware that every eye in the classroom was on them.
Hawthorn laid a quelling hand on the young man’s forearm.
“Let me speak with Ms. Schulde for a moment, then we can go.”
Mama opened her mouth to protest, but the older officer cut her off. “Let him speak to her now, alone,” he said, “or we can take both of you in to headquarters after class and have a chat there.”
Winnie had a sinking feeling that if she ever set foot in Nightingale’s headquarters, she wouldn’t be allowed to leave after.
“It’ll be easier if I just talk to him now, Mama. I’ll be okay.”
Then Hawthorn took her by the elbow—such a gentleman— and led her away.
Hawthorn brought her out into the hall, careful to move away from the classroom door so no one could spy through the window.
If she cried out, Mama would be there in a moment, Winnie reminded herself, trying to keep terror at bay.
Of course, Hawthorn wouldn’t do anything awful to her. Not there, at school.
But she had no doubt that if he wanted, he could have those officers arrest her.
And Mama.
They’d be able to do whatever they wanted to her and Mama then.
She wondered what was keeping him from doing it.
“You didn’t call,” Hawthorn said.
Winnie had hated him before she even had reason to hate him—from their first meeting at his party, when he had been playacting the genial host. How she hated him now! And what a blessing that hatred was. It helped drown her fear to nothing more than a dull roar.
“Things didn’t go as planned,” she said tightly.
She needed him to think she was the other Winnie, at least until she came up with a better plan. If Hawthorn still had hope of getting his hands on her, it would buy her some time.
“Your father said something this morning about a car accident. How terrible,” he said dryly. “I take it the girl got away?”
Winnie nodded.
“Ms. Schulde?”
“Yes?”
“I hope you know I meant what I said. I’ve always liked Scott. But that won’t stop me.”
Winnie’s stomach flopped, and she tried to bury that fear under a wave of authentic indignation. “Just look at me! Obviously, I tried.”
“I didn’t ask you to ‘try.’ I told you to get the girl,” he said viciously. Then his nastiness was gone in a flash, replaced by a subtler one. “I miss James—he was such an asset to me, and so eager to prove himself.” He paused a moment. “Did you know that some people thought he and Scott were lovers?”
“People should mind their own business.”
“Maybe, but they don’t. I wonder . . . do you think that’s why Scott did it?”
Homosexual Student Slays Secret Lover—it was exactly the sort of salacious thing people would be dying to believe, and the worst kind of papers would love to print. Winnie was confident that Hawthorn would have some contrived hard evidence to back it up too.
“I’m not playing this game with you,” Winnie said, straining to display a confidence she didn’t really feel. “I know you aren’t going to get Scott arrested.”
“Oh?”
“At least not yet. You still want her, right? I can get her for you.”
He was silent for a moment, lips pursed, thinking.
“Fine,” he said at last. “Bring her to me within twenty-four hours. If you don’t, I go to the police. No more second chances.”
“What are you going to do with her?” Winnie whispered.
She asked without thinking. Probably he wouldn’t answer. Probably it would be better not to know.
“I’m not going to hurt her,” he said with an irritated sigh, “if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“You hurt James.”
“I didn’t hurt James. Experiments mean risk. James understood that. But I know more now. The serum doesn’t work—but that doesn’t matter. I won’t need it anymore. I’ll have her.”
If only she really were as powerful as Hawthorn seemed to think she was.
Unless . . . maybe Hawthorn knew something they didn’t—something that would help her get home. Or maybe he was crazy. His voice had that feverish inflection Father’s used to get sometimes during their night experiments. Father had always thought he was a hairsbreadth away from a breakthrough. But they’d never made any progress at all.
“Your parents,” Hawthorn continued, “they really don’t know anything, do they?”
“No, they don’t,” Winnie answered quickly.
“You do realize what that means, don’t you? If they get wrapped up in this, they’ll have nothing to bargain with. And, Ms. Schulde? I know that this ability of yours—yes, dormant or not, you have it—is genetic. So, if you can’t find your double, don’t worry. I could always use your mother. Do you have any idea how easy it would be to convince people your mother and father are German spies? Who would care what happened to them then?”
Winnie opened her mouth to protest, but Hawthorn turned back to the classroom, pulled open the door, and called for his men.
“Oh, and I apologize for bringing my dogs,” Hawthorn murmured slyly. “I promise they’re well-trained. Mostly.”
As soon as the three men walked down the hall and turned the corner, Winnie rushed to the bathroom. She flung the first stall door open, knelt down, and vomited up every last bit of her lunch.
She and Scott had one day.
. . . but a day to do what?
To get her home?
Or to figure out a way for her to safely stay?
As soon as Winnie reentered the classroom, she set off a flurry of whispers among her classmates. Some seemed excited by all the drama, but others looked worried or scared.
“Back to work, girls,” Mama said sharply.
She pulled Winnie back into the materials closet, leaving the door just barely ajar.
“Are you all right, darling?” Mama asked softly. “Damn those Hosenscheißer! They think they can come bully us here, in my own classroom. Well, let them just wait until Papa finds out.”
“Don’t tell him,” Winnie said, “please.”
Hawthorn had already threatened their family.
She would keep Mama, and Father, and Scott, and Dora all safe—somehow.
Mama grabbed her hand and pressed her fingers reassuringly. “I don’t want you worrying about all this. Just leave it to me and your father.”
In a way, she should be grateful that Hawthorn and his “dogs” had paid her a visit. She understood the stakes more clearly than ever. But she needed Mama to understand them too.
“Eight minutes,” Winnie said.
Mama gave her a questioning look.
“Don’t you remember the headlines? Those men convicted of being German agents? They said it took them eight minutes on the electric chair to die.”
Mama pulled her into a hug. “Shh,” she whispered. “Papa will be fine—we all will.”
Winnie knew the embrace was meant to be reassuring, but Mama was holding her too tight—she could feel the trembling in Mama’s arms.
Winnie was certain of one thing. She would do anything to make sure Hawthorn didn’t get his hands on Mama—even if it meant surrendering to him herself.