The Wikkeling (17 page)

“Actually, I'm kind of looking forward to it,” said Henrietta, “after all the practice we've done up here.”

“These books are different from the computer questions,” said Gary.

“It's all reading, though,” said Henrietta. “People have been doing it since forever.”

That night, as Henrietta changed Mister Lady's bandages and sterilized the wound, she made a disturbing discovery. In the near-darkness of the attic, she shone her flashlight on the cat's injured leg and saw several small, white worms crawling.

“
Ugh!
” She simultaneously recoiled from them and reached out to brush them off. Mister Lady wrenched away and leapt onto a bookshelf several feet above Henrietta's head. It was the first such leap Henrietta had ever seen the cat make. The ease and strength of the jump was astounding, and Henrietta felt a
small resurgence of the fear she'd felt when she and Mister Lady first met.

“I'm sorry,” said Henrietta. “Please come down.”

The sight of the worms squirmed awfully in her brain. How could that have happened? She'd been so careful to keep the wound clean. Her eyes fell on the
Bestiary
, which lay as always atop the glass coffee table.

Henrietta flipped to the index. Scanning through, she noticed an entry for “Worm—Flesh-Eating.”

Worm, Flesh-Eating:

Though disturbing on first encounter, and often erroneously associated with Uncleanliness and Disease, the Flesh-Eating Worm is beneficial to Humans. The presence of Flesh-Eating Worms in a Wound is indicative of the Restoration of an Injury to Health, as the creatures consume only dead and diseased Flesh. Their attentions are a boon to Healing. It is most unfortunate that many souls benighted by Ignorance view these worms incorrectly as the Cause and Continuation of the Necrosis they in fact hasten to eradicate.
—Recorded and observed by E.S.

It went against good sense, but somehow it also made sense. Henrietta turned to the bookcase, from which Mr. Lady glared down. “All right,” she said. “I'll leave them. But it's gross.”

A
fter weeks of practice tests, detention, and homework, the morning of the Competency Exam arrived to find Henrietta waiting at the bus stop for Gary, bursting to inform him about flesh-eating worms. Gary was a good person to tell disgusting things to because he could be relied upon to make revolted faces. Hopefully the diversion would take both of their minds off the test for a few minutes.

Unfortunately, Gary was also the kind of person to show up a little late for things, and he trudged up just as the bus arrived. As it slowed for the children, the cars behind it began honking.

“MIRACLE MEDICAL WISHES ALL STUDENTS
GOOD LUCK
ON THEIR COMPETENCY EXAMS!”

“GOT AN A ON YOUR EXAM?
CELEBRATE WITH A SKIPPING-STONE
PHONE FROM TINCAN TELECOMM!”

Henrietta said hello to Gary, and he said hello back, but neither could hear the other over the racket. They strapped themselves into their seats, the blue warning lights turned off, and the yellow safety light turned on. As the bus picked up speed and the Honk Ads diminished, Henrietta said, “Are you nervous?”

“I know all the questions,” said Gary. “I'm ready.”

“You really just ask your mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you feel guilty about it?” Henrietta couldn't imagine taking similar advantage, were she in his position.

“Maybe a little,” he said, shrugging as well as he could in his harness. “But I also think the tests are dumb.”

“I never thought about it that way,” said Henrietta. She always felt bad about her grades, but what if grades were the problem, and not her?

Suddenly, something happened that didn't normally happen.

From the empty seat in front of them, a head rose up and peered back over the headrest. The face had a tiny nose, a weak chin, and thin yellow hair partly covering a tall forehead. It flickered briefly as its pale yellow eyes focused on the two of them.

The bus's security system didn't respond to the infraction: No lights went on or off, and the engine didn't shut down.

Gary gasped. “You!” he said.

Henrietta froze. Her heart gulped.

“Get away!” said Gary. He wrestled against his restraints, but after his encounter with the driver weeks back, the school district had retrofitted the buses with automated seat belts. The children were trapped.

The thing's mouth opened into a round hole with a guttering yellow light glowing up from its pink throat. Its voice leaked out, slow and scratchy, like a recording. Its lips didn't move to form the words.
“WHERE DO YOU GO?”
it said.

Henrietta wanted to look over at Gary, but her eyes wouldn't respond to her urging.
“WHERE DO YOU GO?”
the voice came again. Its inflections were exactly the same as the first time. The thing brought an arm up over the back of the seat and one long, waxen index finger reached toward Gary.

“Don't!” Henrietta whispered.

The finger lightly tapped Gary's forehead, and the creature winked out, disappearing like a switched-off light.

“I need my medicine,” said Gary, his voice trembling and small. He was pale and sweating. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Henrietta racked her brain, trying to figure out if there was any way to get out of her straps. Finally, she did the only thing she could think of: she screamed.

Once they arrived at school, a crumpled Gary was whisked to Ms. Morse's office by the bus duty supervisor. Henrietta, after a brief trip to the principal's office to receive a Behavioral Citation and a lecture about Being Disruptive on the Bus, had to proceed straight to class to take the Competency Exam.

It was no longer practice. This was what they'd all been preparing for. Statistics from this test would be tabulated for all districts, schools, classes, and students. Schools could lose funding, teachers could lose jobs, and students could be classified as At Risk or even Finished. Henrietta entered the room and sat silently at the back, next to Gary's empty chair.

At the front, Ms. Span stood and silently watched her nervous students. She was dressed in a black sweater and black slacks, scrupulously devoid of any piece
of lint. Her black hair was pulled back into a perfect bun, and her normally thick eyebrows were plucked into precise arcs. Despite her severe appearance, Henrietta could tell she was worried. Not only was the exam itself stressful, and her best student sidelined, but that student was her son, and she couldn't go visit him to see how he was doing.

When Ms. Span had everyone's undivided attention, she spoke. “Read every question twice,” she said, speaking slowly and articulating carefully. “Be fast and accurate. Never leave a blank. It is vitally important that you do well today, for yourself, and for me, and for the school. Failure will have real consequences, up to and including being Finished.” She paused. “Don't be nervous,” she added. She smiled nervously. “Don't be anxious.”

The class hung on her every word. Finally, she donned her reading glasses and spent a few moments tilting them back and forth on her nose to make sure they were perfectly straight. Meanwhile, in homes and workplaces all across the Addition, parents held their cell phones before them in sweating hands, watching anxiously for news.

Ms. Span sat at her terminal. “Get ready,” she said as the clock approached the hour. In seconds, every student in every school in every district everywhere would be presented with their first short response question; the same question for everyone, every child responding in parallel with every other child.

The clock turned. “Begin!” said Ms. Span as everyone's screen went momentarily blank, and then lit up with the prompt.

WHERE DO YOU GO?

“Don't start!” said Ms. Span, her voice shrill. She typed at her terminal. “It must be a glitch. . . .” She frowned. “No, this is it. This is the question! Go!”

“What does it mean?” said one student.

“It doesn't matter,” said Ms. Span. “Just answer it!”

“But what do we say?”

“Where you go! Write about where you go!”

The students wrote, though the question was unlike the ones they were accustomed to. Henrietta studied her own screen a little longer than everyone else, half expecting the face of the yellow-haired creature to loom up and look back at her. Her cursor blinked impatiently. Time was clicking by. She slouched a bit in concentration, and began.

I NEVER WEARY OF PERAMBULATING TO LURMY'S, BECAUSE IT ALWAYS HAS HIGH-QUALITY, AFFORDABLE PROVENDER.

As she typed, the word
perambulating
(which she knew meant to walk about leisurely) showed up underlined in red—a mistake. She had learned the word from the
Bestiary
, though, and had even looked it up in the attic's dusty dictionary, so she knew she was using it correctly. Another red underline appeared under
provender
, but she kept writing—there was no time for second thoughts.

Soon, the two minutes were up, and the terminal froze. The data was sent to the district for processing. “Don't worry about how you did,” Ms. Span chirped from the front. “It's too late. Math is next!”

Many of the students looked mystified and nervous as the seconds ticked down toward the appearance of the first multiple-choice math question.
“Remember, C is most common,” said Ms. Span quietly. Henrietta looked up at her, a little surprised. Giving directions after the test began was against the rules. The class's composition grades must not have been good. The first math question appeared.

20 + 5 =

A) 25

B) 25

C) 25

D) 25

“Don't respond!” Ms. Span said. She typed for a few moments and watched her screen. “That's the question!” she called out. “Answer and move on!”

“But which is it?” said one student.

“Just
answer
,” barked Ms. Span.

Henrietta clicked C), and her computer made a soft
ding
sound to indicate that she'd answered correctly. The same
ding
sounded around her as other students submitted their answers, and here and there a
clunk
rang out, the sound of a garbage can's contents being dumped into a truck. Henrietta saw some students sitting with their eyes squeezed shut. The next problem appeared. This one was fill-in-the-blank.