I ran up to my room, slammed the door closed, and jumped onto the bed. Andrew didn't seem to be around. I was sure I couldn't handle that. I put my hands on either side of Marshall's head. Help me please, Marshall.
I tried to blank my mind, to be as receptive as possible. Marshall, I need you. I need you. I need you.
For a long time, I felt nothing. Suddenly, images flooded my mind. Unexpected images. I didn't understand.
And then I did. my mouth gaped. Is that the key to Dad? His button to push? Will that work?
But I don't have a letter from the Academy. I have to have that.
I stiffened suddenly. Yes! Yes!
I jumped off the bed and recovered my car keys. I fumbled in my desk drawer and extracted my copy of the slavery contract. I thought about taking the pictures in the yellow envelope. No, I decided. I don't need those. Minutes later I was racing to the Academy.
"Could I see Mr. Bennett? Is he here?" I was desperate. Minutes later, I was in his office.
Mr. Bennett shook hands with me. "It's nice to see you again, Wynn. You understand I can't tell you anything yet, right?"
"Oh, yes, sir. But I wonder if you could do something for me."
"What is it?"
"You have a form that an applicant's father would have to sign when he's accepted, right?"
"Well, yes, but we'd usually send that out with the letter of acceptance..."
"Oh, I understand that, sir. But could you give me a copy of that form? I'm not sure if my dad will be home next week, and I'd like to get that form in as soon as I can." I rationalized the fib by telling myself that there was no way to be altogether sure that my father would be available. Anything could happen, right?
Mr. Bennett looked at me for a long time. "I see what you're saying, Wynn. If I give it to you, do you understand that doesn't mean you've been accepted?
"Yes, sir. This is just in case."
My heart pounded as Mr. Bennett opened a drawer in his desk. "I can't really see a reason not to give you this. As long as you do understand you're not admitted yet. We just haven't decided one way or another."
"Yes, sir. I'll hold onto it until I get a letter from you."
Mr. Bennett pointed at the form. "You see that it has to be notarized."
I nodded. "That's no problem, sir. Thank you so much."
I walked into the main office of Cameron Industries. Father's secretary, Miss Barron, looked up as I entered. "Oh, hi, Wynn. Do you need to see your father?"
I nodded. "If I could, please."
While I waited, I took out the Academy's permission form and filled in my name on it. Miss Barron looked up from her phone, and nodded to me. "You can go in."
Father looked up from his desk. "Is everything okay, Wynn?"
"I think so, Dad. Could we sit on the couch?" I didn't want to talk to him as he sat behind his big desk, as if I were trying to sell him something. I wanted, as nearly as possible, for the first time in my life, to talk to him as an equal.
It was strange, sitting beside him on the sofa in his office. Always before, even at home, I had felt as if he was giving me an audience, as one of the subjects of his kingdom. I took a deep breath. "Daddy..." I hadn't called him that in years. I felt there was a good reason for doing so now.
He looked at me puzzled. "What is it, Wynn?"
I turned to face him fully. "Remember at Marshall's hanging... the way everybody looked at Mr. Warren? His father?"
That had been the subject of my mental images when I touched Marshall's head. Again and again, from every angle, I was seeing Kevin Warren.
Father nodded tentatively, not sure yet where this was going.
I went on, "I mean, the way everybody saw how proud he was... not just that, though. It's like... everybody was in awe of him. Because they felt that way about Marshall. I think everyone looked like they thought he had done such a great job, raising such an amazing son. You saw that, didn't you? I mean, you did so many things for him! You weren't expecting to do that, were you? The way you let him take your role in the play, and then offered him Marshall's tail! Why did you do that, Daddy?"
Dad looked towards the window of his office, deep in thought, and finally nodded. "I know what you're saying. It did seem that he deserved it. His son was something special."
I leaned closer to him. "Daddy — would you like to see people look at you that same way? With nothing to do with all your money, or everything else you've accomplished..." I waved my arm to indicate everything around us. "...but for a different reason? That everyone thought you had really done well, raising a talented son?"
Dad looked directly at me for the first time. "What are you saying, Wynn?"
"I'm saying... if your son could put on such a special show, just like Marshall did... wouldn't that mean something to you? Seeing people look at you just like they looked at Mr. Warren?"
Father's eyes sprang wide open. "Wynn, have you been admitted to the Academy?"
I held his eyes. "Not yet, Daddy. Almost. I'm really close, though. I've been through the interview with the Dean, and I think I have a really good chance."
"I thought... well, aren't you going to be Andrew's slave?" Dad seemed to be trying to keep up with the shifting landscape of my life.
I shook my head. "I haven't been sure that I could get into the Academy. I had to have a fall-back position. You understand?"
Father did indeed understand a cautious approach to business. Then a thought occurred to him. "Andrew already put down a deposit on a house for the two of you."
I nodded. "If I get in the Academy, I'll pay him back the thousand dollars. I know he was counting on me being there for him, but this is bigger."
"So you don't really want to be his slave?"
"Well, it's not my first choice. Here, let me show you something..." I pulled the envelope with the contract out of my shoulder bag. Taking a deep breath, I removed it from the envelope and let him read it, holding the breath.
Father bit his lip. "This is dated a couple of months ago."
I nodded. "I've known for a long time what I really wanted to do. Andrew understands that too. He knew I wouldn't sign this if it didn't say my number one priority was to go to the Hanging Academy. Daddy?" My hand covered his. "It's really, really important to me."
"But... well, you know I was hoping for grandchildren."
I sat up straighter. "Daddy, if it works out that way, if I don't get in the Academy, I promise I'll give you the best, sweetest grandchildren anyone ever had. But if I don't do that, you know Andrew will have kids. Right?" I held his eyes until he nodded.
I took a deep breath. "Daddy, this is what I want more than anything in the world. If I don't get it, then I belong to Andrew, totally and completely. But before anything else, I want this. I want it for me, and I want it for you too. So people will think, look at Preston Cameron. He's done a lot of things, but wow, his son put on a show I'll always remember."
Father was silent for a time, looking out the window. He turned back to me at last. "You need me to do something, don't you?"
I put the contract away and pulled out the Academy form. "You understand, I'm not admitted yet. But if I am, then I have to have your permission to go there."
I handed him the form. It had the Academy letterhead, and looked very official, as indeed it was. I held my breath again, watching him intently as he read it over. An endless time seemed to pass.
I tried to read his face, to judge his leanings on the issue. When I felt nearly sure the balance was starting to tip my way, it was time to give it one last push. I pointed to one line on the form, the one in which the Academy offered the student's parents some remuneration in return for enslaving their son. With a playful smile on I my face, I said, "See, they'll even give you money for me. Who knows when that might come in handy?"
Father burst out laughing, something I had seen rarely in my life. He got up from the sofa and pushed the button that connected him with his secretary. "Miss Barron, could you get a notary up here from HR?"
I pumped my fists, saying silently, Yes, yes, yes!! Marshall, I did it!!
I rested on my bed, smiling as I heard Andrew come up the stairs. I knew he'd look in on me.
Andrew grinned from the doorway. "So, what'd you think of the place?"
I looked up at him disinterestedly. "Looks pretty typical for slave quarters. I don't expect I'll see it again, though. I'm going to the Academy."
His eyes suddenly narrowed. "You got a letter?"
I shook my head. "Not yet. Next week, I guess."
His smile returned. "Doesn't matter. I'm telling Dad about the contract tonight." His eyes glowed, waiting for my reaction.
I shook my head. "Don't bother. He's seen it."
I loved the way his face fell. "What?"
I sat up and looked directly at him. "I showed him the contract. He knows I want to go to the Academy. He's signed a form to say it's okay."
I almost laughed out loud at seeing Andrew's jaw drop. "You said haven't been admitted yet. Does... does he know that?"
I smiled benignly. "He knows everything, Andrew."
I finally did laugh as he ran downstairs. He was gone long enough to verify everything with his father, and finally trudged back up.
"See, Andrew?"
He reappeared at my door, and snarled at me, "This doesn't change anything. You still don't know if you're in or out. And if you're out, you're mine."
I nodded. "I've got a deal for you."
"No! I'm not letting you out of the contract!"
I shook my head. "It's not about that. Look, it's probably still a week before I hear anything. I want to propose something. Will you listen?"
He glared at me for at least a minute, and finally muttered, "I'm listening."
I nodded again. "Okay. Look, I can't do anything about it if I'm not admitted. I understand that. I belong to you then. The law will back you up. Dad will back you up. I'd be a runaway slave if I tried to get away, and I can't go anywhere without you finding me. I get that."
Grudgingly, he nodded. "Keep going."
"I want you to stay away from me until I hear from the Academy. Here's what I'll do in return. If I get in, then I'll give you the thousand you put down on deposit on the house. I told Dad I'd do that, and I will."
"And if you don't get in?"
I took a deep breath. "Have you got the shackles and chains for the corners of your bed yet? You know what I'm talking about. Like in the drawing. I know you wouldn't wait till the last minute to get them. You're planning to use them next week."
His eyes glowed. "I've got them. So?"
"And a collar? You've got a slave collar already, right?"
He was breathing faster, seeming to anticipate where this was headed. "Of course."
"Could you bring that in here, please?"
Andrew blinked in surprise, and returned to his bedroom, reappearing moments later, bearing a heavy metal collar similar to the ones I'd seen in the drawings. "Okay, here it is. So?"
I looked over the collar reluctantly. It was one of the kind without a release mechanism. At present it had plastic stays to keep it from closing accidentally. Once in place around my neck, it would lock permanently, never to be removed. I closed my eyes and shivered. "Are the shackles self-locking? I could put them on myself without a key, right?"
Andrew was now sure where this was headed, judging from the sudden bulge near his belt. "Yeah. So?"
"Okay. If you leave me alone for now, don't even talk to me until I hear from the Academy, don't track me when I go out, then here's what I'll do. I already said what I'd do if they say yes, and there's something in it for you in that case. If they say no..." I paused, not believing I was saying this, but knowing everything was lost anyway if the word from the Academy was negative, "...then I won't fight you. I'll make it easy for you. Go ahead and install the chains on the bedposts of your bed. If the Academy says no, I'll sign over the ownership of my car to you, and leave my debit card and PIN number here on the bed. You'll have everything that's mine. And then I'll strip naked, go into your room, cuff myself spread out on the bed like in the picture, and wait for you. I'll leave the slave collar on your bed so you can put it on me yourself. Okay?"
He stood looking at me, gradually breathing harder as the mental images took over his mind. Finally he said, "Deal."
I spent Saturday, Sunday, and Monday going through all my possessions, deciding how to dispose of them. I threw a lot of things away, while setting some aside to give to friends — in that category, mostly clothes. I started a list of everything I wanted to take with me to the Academy, starting with Marshall's head. There were several small odds and ends that were my memories of Mother. Those went on the list too.
Andrew stayed out of the house most of the time. When both of us were present, we circulated through the house like planets in entirely different orbits. Even at dinner on Sunday night, Andrew managed to hold back from responding to anything I said. Dad had a lot of questions about the Academy. I answered them while Andrew picked at his meat and potatoes.
I relished the freedom from Andrew's infliction of himself on my life, but shuddered thinking of what images were passing through his head. The things he was planning to do with me if the news from the Academy was bad.
Late Tuesday morning, Melville, as was his custom, pulled the mail from the mailbox and sorted through it. He came upstairs with some pieces for Andrew, and dropped two envelopes addressed to me on my bed.
I was sitting on the floor of my closet, going through the last remaining possessions in it and dropping them into boxes according to whether I'd discard them, keep them, or give them to friends — several boxes in the last category, each with a friend's name on it. Taking a break, I stood up, stretched my back, and went to see what mail I'd got.
The first of the two letters was from the bank, a monthly statement. I had torn the envelope open before I noticed the return address on the other letter.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. I don't think this could be good, I thought, getting it this early.
I picked up the envelope with shaking fingers and sat on the bed, staring at the ornate printed "The Hanging Academy" in the upper left, the "Mister Wynn Cameron" with my address in the lower right. I felt the letter with the tips of my fingers as I bent it. I don't think there can even be two pages in there. There should at least be that parental consent form besides the letter offering admission. This really isn't good.
I tried to insert my finger into the tiny space of the flap that was unsealed, to tear the letter open, but my hands were shaking too badly. I spent several minutes looking for a letter opener, and finally just ripped the end as carefully as I could, trying not to damage the contents.
It was, indeed, a single sheet. I tried not to unfold it, but it unbent on its own far enough that the words "We regret to inform you" were seared into my eyeballs before the rest of the words were blurred by tears.
I didn't even notice myself sliding off the edge of the bed to sit heavily onto the floor, hugging myself, my face buried against my knees as I cried. And that was even before the full weight of the news sank in. Andrew. I was his slave as of this moment.
I know he'll keep me in that little closet. Naked, in the dark, shemale, chained so I can hardly move. Waiting there until the next time he wants to use me.
My bladder let go, the warm dampness spreading through my pants.
I looked up, my breathing still erratic with sobs. The boxes. I can ask Dad to get those to the right people. And throw away the stuff I'd been going to take with me. Those things only mean anything to me. Except Marshall's head. Andrew will want that back.
That thought brought a fresh round of crying. On top of everything else, I had failed Marshall.
The collar, I thought. I'd better get that out. Andrew kept his end of the deal. I have to keep mine. It doesn't matter. I can't get out of it anyway.
I retrieved the collar from the dresser drawer and dropped it on the bed, then stood shakily in front of the bed and began taking off my clothes, automatically throwing the soiled pants and briefs in the hamper. I don't need these anymore. I'll never wear clothes again.
Naked, I knelt by the bed, dropped my upper body onto it and started crying again. The image of that drawing, the first one in the yellow envelope, showing Andrew on top of me as I lay stretched out helpless on his bed, took shape and texture in my mind. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, trying to shut the image out, but it remained. That's really going to happen, I moaned to myself. Tonight. "Our first night together." In just a few hours that will really be happening.
I need to go to his room now. Cuff myself to his bed and wait for him.
I tried to make myself get up, go to Andrew's room. Just a few minutes, I promised myself. Just a last few minutes in freedom, in my own room. Then I'll go.
I felt something scrape lightly against my fingers, and opened my eyes to see what it was. The Academy letter. My fingers reached out for it on their own. I was somehow unwillingly compelled to look at it again, as a soldier after a battle must keep examining a fatal wound. I unfolded it to read it fully.
My mind was so jangled that several minutes seemed to pass. A tiny voice inside me was saying, something's wrong here, while the rest of my mind ignored it. Gradually the tiny voice shouted louder. Something wasn't registering right.
At last the image my eyes were seeing filtered through into my consciousness.
The letter, at the top, was addressed to "Mister Ramsay Cannady," at an address entirely different from mine.
I reached out convulsively for the envelope, saw again the "Mister Wynn Cameron" printed on it. Of course the envelope is addressed to me. That's how it got here. But it had somebody else's letter in it.
My breath heaving, I grabbed for the phone, making five attempts to punch in the Admissions Office number with shaking fingers before I finally got it right. I nearly passed out from hyperventilation while the call rang through.
"Admissions. Can I help you?"
I had to get my breath under control before I could speak. "C-Could I talk to Mr. Bennett, please?"
I felt the pounding of my heart, trying to will it to slow down as my call was transferred. "This is Valentin Bennett. Can I help you?"
"M-Mr. Bennett, this is Wynn Cameron."
"Oh, it's nice..." The voice on the phone paused. "Are you okay, Wynn?"
"I - I don't know. I got a letter from you today."
The voice was now very puzzled. "We haven't sent one to you, Wynn. Are you sure it's from us?"
I nodded, as if Mr. Bennett could see that. "It's got your return address, and letterhead, and all that. The envelope was addressed to me, but inside the letter was for..." I looked at the letter again. "...Ramsay Cannady."
There was a horrified gasp at the other end of the line, followed by a whispered, "Oh, no!"
"Mr. Bennett, is it possible the letters got mixed up in the envelopes? Like this Ramsay Cannady got mine?"
"No, Wynn, nothing like that. Your letter hasn't even gone out yet. I've got it sitting right here on my desk with some others we were going to send out tomorrow. I think... let me check something."
I could hear Mr. Bennett striking keys on his computer keyboard, finally saying under his breath, "Oh, yes, that must be it." Then he added, "Ramsay Cannady's name is right under yours in our applicant database. Sheila... I mean, somebody must have selected the wrong line on the screen when we were printing out envelopes. Oh, this is... I am so sorry, Wynn. This never happened before. I feel so bad this happened! Listen, if you would, just destroy that letter, okay? We'll print out another one for Ramsay and get it out in the mail today."
I needed to clear my mind. "So... I'm not rejected yet, right?"
"Wynn..." He paused. "I wouldn't normally do this, but I know this upset you really badly, and that is completely our fault. I think we owe you a little bit beyond just apologizing. As I said, I have your letter right here. Would you like me to read it to you?"
I felt an excitement building within me that far exceeded my earlier despair in intensity. I was aware I could fall off a cliff if the coming news wasn't what it sounded like, but I had to hear. "Ohh-kayyy..."
With a slight smile in his voice, Mr. Bennett said, "This one is addressed to Mister Wynn Cameron. And it starts out, 'Dear Wynn: We are very happy to invite you to be a member of next year's entering class at...' "
My arms shot straight up over my head as if they were independent things, the phone in one of my hands so that I lost contact with the voice reading my letter to me, and I shouted out ecstatically at the top of my lungs. Feeling my fist clenching the phone, I hurriedly brought it back down to my ear. "I'm sorry, I was just... Oh, thank you so much!!!" A fresh stream of tears followed the tracks of the old ones down my face. "I promise I'll be the best... Oh!" I looked around the room. "I've got so many things I have to do! Mr. Bennett, will you still be in your office later, maybe about..." I looked at my clock. "...four?"
"I'll be here until five, Wynn. And I'm glad I can be the first to tell you congratulations, and I want to say again how sorry I am about the mistake."
"Mistake? Oh, THAT." I had honestly forgotten. "Please don't worry about that. There's no way you could have made me any happier. I need to go now, but I'll see you later today."
"I'll be looking forward to seeing you again, Wynn. Goodbye."
I closed the phone, stood up, and quickly tugged on fresh clothes,. First about fifteen minutes more of closet stuff.
I actually finished the sorting in ten minutes, and took the discard box down to the trash bin downstairs. I came back up for my car keys, looking at the boxes of things I was giving away. I ran back down to ask Melville to get them to the right places — I'd written phone numbers under the names.
I took out my phone and dialed, heard it ring, "Be there be there be there..." As soon as it was answered, I shouted, "Scott? Alan?" I wasn't sure whether Scott or his roommate would pick up.
"It's me, Wynn. Is everything okay?" Scott's voice.
I laughed happily. "Better than okay. Will you be there for a little while?"
"Sure. Should I ask what's up?"
Giggling in relief, I said, "No, I'll surprise you. Since I'm sure you could never possibly guess what I'm this happy about."
He laughed. "No idea at all. Are you coming over now?"
"Be there in a few minutes. Is that okay?"
"Sure..." I lost the rest of what he had been going to say as I closed the phone and ran down to my car.