Part 1
The LastJessica
1
A few days after I turned twenty, I took my cousin Peter on a midnight climb.
Peter was two years younger and in awe of me. As kids, I’d taught him how to wrestle, how to throw a knife. Everyone called him my little shadow.
When he followed me to Helshire, I showed him the college secrets: the dead drops in the library basement, the derelict buildings of the Old Campus, the Dining Commons’ best desserts.
In return, Peter gave me handmade presents—a coffee mug he’d made, an egg from a robin’s nest, drained and painted with the family motto. His gift wrapping was clumsy, the eggshell in pieces when I opened it.
I extended my invitation in the Dining Commons, in the side room reserved for us legacy students. It was empty except for Regina Lindqvist and her latest boyfriend, sitting in the far corner.
“We’re climbing the back of Dewitt tonight,” I told Peter.
His eyes lit up. Dewitt Hall was the tallest building on campus.
“Is this a test?”
“What do you think?”
He smiled. Everything was a test.
“Bring climbing shoes and gloves,” I said.
“Equipment, really?”
“It’s nine stories.”
Peter sucked on his straw, making the dregs of his soda gurgle. “Jessica.Someday we’ll need to get out of a building with whatever we’ve got on. We have to be ready!”
“Being ready isn’t the same as looking for danger.”
“You sound like Grandma.”
“Our grandmother is wise.”
It was Grandmother Elizabeth who’d given me the order. She’s been in charge of our family since I was five years old.
“She thinks I’m reckless,” he said. “They all do, but I’m just brave. Like a Morton should be.”
Mortons are fearless. That’s not the same as brave.
We walked from the dining hall to his dorm, still arguing. The evening sky showed faint smudges of cirrus clouds. Cool settled over the campus, quieting the wind that had stirred the trees all day.
“I don’t need climbing shoes. I’m better barefoot, anyway.”
“It’s freezing.”
“No gloves then. I can blow on my hands.”
“Okay, no gloves,” I relented at the door of Peter’s dorm. “But we’re only going halfway up.”
He smirked, thinking he’d gotten his way.
“Wear black, and don’t tell anyone,” I said. “Let’s call this your first official mission.”
