I looked around the hallway outside the party room, trying to remember myself as the young high school graduate who had been so much in awe of these surroundings three years ago. I still felt awe at being here, but it was now overlaid with a sense of belonging. This school, the Academy, was my place, destined to be mine from the time I was born. I've done it; I've cleared all of the hurdles. The only thing left is the finish line.
Around me were the faces of my closest friends, twenty-three of them, the boys I'd traveled with on this journey — all of them strangers in that dim past, three years previous, now married by the shared experience of becoming the Hanging Boys we wanted to be.
These thoughts were too ponderous. I turned to Maverick, standing next to me among the whispering Hanging Boys, all dressed in our blue Academy uniforms. At least we didn't have the cap-and-gown pretentiousness of a traditional college. I kissed Maverick and grinned. "Well, we're here!"
Maverick grinned back. "Where we were always meant to be." His face was aglow.
I laughed. The importance of this occasion was even affecting Maverick.
We milled around. Soon, I was close enough to Jack to give him a tight hug and a kiss. "Took a long time to get here, didn't it?" I reached out to include Eric in the hug. Jack and Eric were one of just three pairs of original roommates who had made it through together — four, if I counted Shaw and Maverick, who had split up but were both still alive.
Jack grinned. "Did you do the same thing I did, back at the start? Make a mental list of who was going to make it and who wasn't?"
I shrugged. "It's kind of natural, right?" I waved my arm around to indicate the rest of the graduating class. "How did you do?"
Jack laughed. "About as well as I could have if I'd just seen names on the admission list. Or drawn them out of a hat. None of us knew anything about each other."
Eric tightened his hand around Jack's. "I guess we do now." He leaned in to kiss Maverick and me.
Jack laughed again. "Yeah, now we know exactly which boys have moles between their butt cheeks." The boys in the immediate area laughed, and a couple of them got friendly whaps on the butt.
Mr. Bennett, newly promoted to assistant Dean, appeared in the doorway of the room. "All of you get lined up now, so we can go in. You know the order."
Slowly, with low-voiced conversation and giggling, we formed a line in front of the doorway, with roommates marching together. I took a deep breath as I fell in line in front of Maverick and behind Wallace, from the room across the hall. The music got gradually louder: it was something I didn't know, but it resembled a graduation march. The murmur of conversations from inside the party room was suddenly hushed. Mr. Bennett gestured to Riley, the first boy in line, and we walked down the center aisle. All of the guests turned to watch, each looking to pick out the one particular boy they had come to see.
Behind the guests sat the newly-promoted Second Year and Third Year classes, all wearing their new uniforms. The Second Years were almost as excited as the graduates: this was their first glimpse of the graduation they were aiming for. I grinned and gave a thumbs-up to Marcus, who returned the gesture, and saw Zuchter give a finger-wave to Maverick, with whom he had developed a special rapport.
I had not invited anyone — nearly the only graduate who hadn't. Father was not big on ceremonies of this type, and missing it would not be a big deal for him. And there was always the danger that Andrew would come along; no way I wanted him anywhere near me. I'd visit Father later, for as many hugs and thank yous as that reserved man would stand for. I'd wanted to invite Scott, the only boyfriend I'd ever had. I wanted to thank him for being so understanding: that our relationship had to be temporary, that my budding love for him could never flower in the face of my need to attend the Academy. But I hadn't been able to locate him. He was no longer at the address and phone number I knew from three years ago, and I couldn't find a directory listing for him. He should have graduated from the university a few months ago. I'd tried to find him through the university, but they told me — rather stiffly — that they didn't give out that sort of information.
I spotted a jackal who looked a lot like Maverick. I turned and saw Maverick nod confirmation; he gave the older jackal a quick wave. I was a little puzzled that there wasn't a twelve-year-old boy beside the older jackal — Maverick's brother Kelly. Maverick hadn't said anything, but I could tell that he was more eager to see Kelly here than his father — or, more accurately, that Kelly should see him. Maverick didn't really display any conscious pride in being a Hanging Boy. It was simply the most natural thing in the world to him, and he could never have seen himself as anything else. The extent to which he did take pride in it lay in whatever inspiration it could provide for his brother. I could see the disappointment in Maverick's eyes, even behind the happiness of seeing his father.
Riley, leading the line, now climbed up on the stage and sat on the farthest seat. The rest of the boys reached their seats and sat, forming a single row, so that no boy would be hidden behind others. As soon as Maverick and I were seated, I took his hand and gave it a squeeze.. I glanced at the noose we had walked past, the noose that represented everything we had worked for. For the thousandth time, I fell that thrill shoot through me at the sight of a rope tied in that simple knot.
Once the graduates were seated, the music faded and the Dean stepped up to the lectern.
He smiled out at the audience. "I'd like to welcome all of you here to the Hanging Academy on this special day. I am Thomas Porter, the Dean of the Academy, and it is my pleasure to present to you this year's graduating class." He gestured to his left, indicating the graduates, and the guests applauded, accompanied by a high-pitched cheer from the students behind them.
"As part of our program today, I'd like to present one of our graduates, Wynn Cameron, who has a few words to say on behalf of the class. Wynn?"
I took a deep breath, stood and walked to the lectern. I hadn't exactly wanted this assignment, but had volunteered to save Maverick from doing something a little out of his comfort zone. The student speaker was always chosen from the top three students in the class — in this case, in order, Maverick, me, and Jack. I held the sides of the lectern, my hands shaking slightly, and looked out over the audience.
"I..." I swallowed and started again. "I don't have a speech written down. I wanted it to come from the heart. My heart is doing a little bouncing around on its own right now, but I'll try to make this work." I held my hand over my chest. There were appreciative chuckles and encouraging nods with smiles from the audience, and my nervousness eased a little.
"I'd much rather be over there," pointing to the noose, "than standing here. Every one of us feels that way," I gestured to my classmates, "And I think that if you understand that, you'll know the most important thing about us. Those of you who came here to see your son, or grandson, or brother, or best friend, I just wish there was a way you could really know how much work he has done in the last three years to be sitting where he is today. Please believe me, you can be really, really proud that he is.
"For myself, the one personal comment I want to make is to thank you, those of you out there who either created these boys, or had any part at all in making them who they are today. Because I really needed their friendship and their help, and without them I wouldn't have made it here.
"And now... I want you to stop focusing on us for just a minute, the twenty-two boys you're seeing on the stage. Because in the beginning, there were fifty-eight of us. And if you're wondering what happened to the rest — they were all hanged at some time during the last three years." There were a few murmurs of surprise from audience members not familiar with how the Academy worked. I went on, with slow emphasis, "But they are here. They are part of us. They helped make us what we have become, teaching us things we couldn't have learned except for their sacrifice. And since they are part of us, they are graduating today, just like the boys you are seeing. You're going to hear all of our names in just a few minutes, so I want to make the list of graduates complete, by introducing the boys who are here but invisible to you, though they are very visible to us."
I looked down at the list. "Sumner Fennel. Sequoia Turner..." After each name, I paused and looked up at as if finding him somewhere to the side of the 24 living graduates. I had practiced naming them from memory, all 34, but decided to use a list just in case. I wanted to get this part exactly right, because I knew the graduation was being filmed — and I intended, later, to ask the Dean to send copies of the video to the families of all of the departed boys.
I looked up again as I finished the list, then stole a quick look at the Dean. I hoped he wouldn't be angry that I was exceeding my authority. "We, the students you can see, now declare all of the boys whose names you've just heard to be graduates of the Hanging Academy." My voice broke. "And we thank every one of them, with every beat of our hearts."
I walked back to my seat, leaking tears.
For a moment, there was dead silence throughout the room. Then came the sound of two or three pairs of hands clapping. Instantly the applause spread through the hall. Behind the guests, the Second and Third Year boys leapt to their feet, followed seconds later by the guests themselves. My classmates were applauding as well. I wiped my eyes and joined in the applause. It wasn't for me, or anything I had said. It was for Sumner, and Sequoia, and all of the rest.
As the applause subsided, the Dean arose again and stepped to the lectern. To my astonishment, he brushed the back of his hand across his eyes. He had to clear his throat twice, and spoke his first few words in a slightly more husky than normal voice. "At this time, Mr. Valentin Bennett, our assistant Dean, will help me present to each of our graduates a symbol of his accomplishment. Let me say a few words first that will help you appreciate the meaning this symbol has for our boys.
"As you can easily understand, our graduates have little use, themselves, for a diploma, since they all anticipate dying in the next few months, and in the process bringing honor to their school and recognition of their high level of training. We will shortly be mailing diplomas, already mounted and laminated on plaques, to their families. Today, though, each of our boys will be presented with a red slave collar.
"In their wardrobes here at the Academy, the boys have a number of attractive outfits and collars, in which they perform their duties at our periodic Academy parties, in a variety of colors — with the exception of red. Only our graduates are allowed to dress in red, and I ask you to imagine the pride that color inspires in every one of our graduates, reminding them of the years of intellectual and physical effort that have earned them the right to wear it."
He looked to his right, where Mr. Bennett was standing beside a table strewn with cloth choker collars, and said, "Will the graduates please rise."
I stood along with the others, feeling a wave of unreality break over me. I had seen this ceremony three times before, the first time through the grate in the secured area which I was not allowed to leave, the last two in the audience, and had been especially thrilled by the one last year, when I was able to see Larry and Leo graduate. But now it's for me. And for Maverick, and for Jack, and for all of the rest of the boys that I'd shared classes and studying with for three years. I did it, I really did it!
I was barely conscious of Mr. Bennett calling the names one by one. Each of us walked up to the Dean for a handshake, then to Mr. Bennett, who replaced the Third Year slave collar with that special red. Each of us then returned to our seats.
And now I was at the front of the line, watching Wallace being awarded his collar. I felt an ecstatic smile spread across my lips, as though a shimmering bubble were forming around me. Mr. Bennett said, "Wynn Cameron," and the bubble now seemed to float me the few remaining feet to Dean Porter, who smiled and took my right hand with his, covering it with his left. I assume he said something warm and congratulatory, but I did not really hear it, just murmured vague thanks. Then I drifted in the bubble toward Mr. Bennett. Somehow, what he said got through the bubble. "Wynn, you said when you applied you were going to be here someday."
I suddenly realized I hadn't been blinking. I whispered, "Yes, sir." Mr. Bennett reached behind my neck to unfasten my collar, lifted the red one from the table, held it up in front of my eyes so that I could read the standard words "Wynn — Property of the Hanging Academy" on a red collar, a red one, red, and then looped it around my neck and fastened it. Except I couldn't read it, because my eyes were full of tears that made everything blurry.
The bubble floated me a few feet farther still, and turned me to watch as Mr. Bennett called out the name "Maverick Sadler." My bubble started to dissolve, and I was able to watch Maverick receive the honor he had been born to achieve. Maverick came to stand beside me with his new collar, a huge smile on his face. I reached out for him, my arms sliding around his waist for a joyful hug, a minor breach of the protocol of the ceremony — but I was sure no one would fault me for it.
Holding Maverick's hand, still floating on what remained of the bubble, I circled behind the chairs and returned to my seat to watch the remaining boys receiving their graduate's collars.
As the last boy sat, the Dean gestured toward us. "It's my pleasure to present to you twenty-two..." he hesitated, looked at me and gave me a small nod, a slight smile on his face. "Excuse me, fifty-eight new graduates of the Hanging Academy." His smile broadened, and the audience applauded warmly, standing once more, backed by exuberant shouts from the students behind them.
At this point, the videotaping of the ceremony would end, but not the ceremony itself.
The Dean waited for the applause to die down, and spoke again. "At this time, the Academy is pleased to present to you, our guests, a demonstration of the type of show your son, grand-son, brother, or friend, will put on as an Academy graduate." He looked behind him, and Pat emerged from behind the curtain at the back of the stage, a Second Year... no, I reminded myself, now Third Year, whose career at the Academy would go no farther than today. The Dean went on, "I present to you one of our fine students, Patrick Ashton. I would say more, but he has asked me to be allowed to introduce himself to you, prior to his hanging."
Pat stepped up to the lectern, a sleek skunk: medium height, broad shoulders and a waist so narrow it would have looked good on a femme; his glossy black and white fur shone in the lights. He was wearing the Third Year uniform —the only day he would wear it. Behind him, his roommate Chris had also come out from behind the curtain and stood behind and a little to his left. Pat bit his lip and grinned, looking excited, nodding to acknowledge the applause. "Thank you. Really." As the audience quieted, he continued. "I'm Pat Ashton, and I am just so glad to be able to participate in a graduation, even if it's not my own." He paused as the audience briefly applauded again. "And the reason I wanted to talk to you before my hanging is that I sure won't be able to do it after." The audience laughed.
Pat gestured toward the graduates. "Now, I know you all know what... okay, just to keep it simple, I'll just say 'your son,' though I know a lot of you have a different relationship with the boy who invited you — you all know what kinds of things your son has been learning here, but probably most of you have never actually seen a show before. And you may not necessarily get to see your own son do his show, because that's up to his owners to decide. So just imagine I'm him, and then you'll be able to picture him when he does hang. Except..." Pat leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial stage whisper, "...he'll do it better than I can." He laughed, and waited as the audience joined him and applauded once more. Whether or not the audience knew the specifics of how students were chosen for demonstrations and shows, they understood that the Academy would never sacrifice one of our best students at a free show.
The applause went on, and suddenly increased in volume, as the audience members, one by one, rose to their feet again. I was a little puzzled, wondering what I'd missed, I noticed the Dean looking at me, his eyebrows raised. He gave me a barely perceptible hand-shrug and slight nod. He wasn't expecting it either! It came to me suddenly — they were all thinking about what I had said, in my speech! And they understood that Pat was exactly one of the students I'd been talking about — giving his life up for the school. I stood up and applauded along with the audience, and the rest of the graduates rose as well.
Pat, also taken aback, colored slightly and covered his face for a moment with one hand. As the applause died down at last, he cleared his throat and went on. "Now, I know you all probably know more about Hanging Boys than most people do, since, well, you've got one in the family. But I don't want to take anything for granted, so I want to make sure you know that when you go to a show, there's a little play-acting before the hanging. And there's one more thing that I know you couldn't know if I didn't tell you, and it's something I'm really excited and proud of.
"I'm sure you've seen criminals or game show contestants hang on TV, and you know their feet are usually free so they do a lot of kicking. But people are all different, and the people who buy Hanging Boys are all different, and sometimes they want the boy to hang with his feet tied together. That's always a special challenge for us, because we can't do all of the things we'd ordinarily do. But in the past year, some of the boys have been working out some new moves for us in that situation — and today will be the first time we'll — well, I mean, that would be me -- I'll be showing off that new stuff in public for the first time ever." He beamed at the audience, who applauded once more, with a buzz of murmured conversations behind the applause, continuing for a moment after the clapping subsided.
"I only found out a week ago I'd be hanging for you today, and even though we've all been practicing the new stuff for most of the past year, none of us spend that much time on this kind of hanging, because it's a just-in-case kind of thing. But I decided I wanted to do it this way, and be the first, and I've had so much help getting ready, so I want to thank some boys. I especially want to thank Zuchter, who invented a lot of these moves and spent the most time helping me in the last week." Pat made a stand-up gesture; the audience turned to see Zuchter stand up, blushing more brightly than Pat had, and received another burst of applause. He sat down again quickly and took Marcus's hand.
Pat continued, "Zuchter has only been here a year — he's in the class behind me — but that's just telling you what kind of school this is. All of us work together to try to help each other get better. And I also got a lot of help from..." Pat gestured in a mock-dismissive way at the graduates, "These older people over here." He paused as the audience laughed. "So I want to give some recognition to Shaw, and Maverick, and Wynn." Pat gave the get-up gesture; Maverick and I stood, and Shaw farther down the row of graduates, and we gave the audience a grin and a little wave before sitting again, to yet more applause.
"And I want to thank the Dean, so much, for inviting my dad to come today. Daddy, I got to do a show!" He made an exultant fist-pump gesture, and heads in the audience craned to see who he was looking at, satisfied when a man in the middle of the audience blew Pat a kiss. "My brother Kim just became a puppyboy last year, so he couldn't make it today. Daddy, if you see his owner, tell him to give Kimmy a little puppy treat from me, okay?"
The man responded, "Will do!"
Pat went on, "And especially..." his voice suddenly became husky, "I want to thank my roommate for the last two years, Chris, who is just... the best person there could ever be." He turned and reached for Chris, as Chris stepped forward, and wrapped his arms tightly around Pat. Chris patted Pat's back and gave him a long kiss. With their foreheads pressed together after the kiss, they both said something inaudible, but I was sure what the gist of it must be.
Pat let go of Chris at last, and turned back to the microphone once more. "Now, we do need a little bit of time to get ready. About fifteen minutes, or so. I hope all of you will stay around for my show and the buffet afterward. He looked toward Mr. Bennett, who smiled and nodded. Pat turned to the microphone one more time and said, "Okay, I'll be right back out as soon as I can." He turned and took Chris's hand, and together they disappeared behind the curtain. Riley and several other students came forward to help Pat with his hanging. The quiet murmuring of the audience rose to a conversational level as music began playing quietly in the background.