The Similars (The Similars #1)(18)
“What are those for?” I balk.
“Initiating our final female member of the Ten. Archer is waking up Sunil Bhat, the other senior member, and collecting Levi.”
Levi. I’d let myself forget for a second, but now I have no choice but to remember. He’s part of the Ten. There won’t be any avoiding him, at least not tonight.
“And you’re tasked with initiating Theodora,” Madison adds.
Theodora. I’d almost forgotten about her rank. Second in the junior class. “If you think I’m going to throw Theodora into Dark Lake, you can think again,” I snap.
Madison laughs. “As though any of us would enjoy a repeat of that. No, initiating Theodora is only going to take a few minutes.”
“What is it we’re going to do to her, then?” I ask, though I’ve never wanted an answer less in my life. “And what are the scissors for? Stabbing her in the back?”
Madison ignores that last comment. “It’s not what we’re going to do, Emmaline,” she says, her eyes dancing. “It’s what you’re going to do.”
“Can we get this over with?” Tessa whines. “You’re cutting off her hair.”
“Yeah, right,” I say. Except Tessa’s face is emotionless. She’s not kidding. “You aren’t serious—”
“It’s Darkwood tradition,” Madison reminds me. “Each new member initiates another new member. Prudence initiated you. You initiate Theodora.”
“And if I refuse?” I ask.
“You won’t,” Madison says. “Because then you’d be booted from the Ten. You’d be automatically reslotted into last place. Check the Darkwood handbook if you’re shaky on the details.”
“That’s not in the handbook, and you know it,” I snap. I’m certain the administration hasn’t given Madison permission for this kind of hazing. They think of the Ten as model students. Whatever hazing goes on without Ransom’s knowledge is definitely not sanctioned by the school. But I believe her that I’d lose my spot, because who knows what lies she’d tell Ransom about me. And I may not be obsessed with scores and college applications, but I don’t want to be reslotted into the ninetieth place of the junior class and have to explain to my father why I discarded my coveted top ranking. He wouldn’t understand, and we already have too big of a gulf between us.
“Would you get on with it? It’s a haircut, not a lobotomy,” Tessa says.
I stare at her, slowly comprehending what she’s asking of me. Not just the haircut itself, but the reason why she wants me to do this. “You want me to cut off Theodora’s hair, so she won’t look like you anymore. Wow. For some of the smartest kids at this school, you really are an immature bunch. Give me those scissors.” I snatch them out of Madison’s hand and push my way into Theodora’s darkened room. Light from the hallway illuminates the space enough for me to see what I’m doing.
Theodora’s sleeping in the left bed. The bed on the right side of the room is empty, and I realize now that it must be Maude’s. The two are roommates.
I lean down, picking up a few strands of Theodora’s hair. When I’m done, she’ll still look like Tessa. There’s nothing anyone can do about that, short of plastic surgery. But this move is cruel and hurtful, and I know that, even as I begin my first cut.
“Above the shoulders,” Madison says. “A trim won’t count.”
“Why don’t you do it yourself if you’re going to micromanage,” I snap, but in a whisper. I don’t want to wake Theodora. Because once she realizes what’s going on… No, I can’t think about that. I fight the feeling of dread that settles in my stomach, reminding myself that this haircut might be humiliating for Theodora, but it will grow back. Gritting my teeth, I grab a more sizable chunk of Theodora’s hair and lop it straight off. I grab another chunk, and another. Brown locks fall around the two of us as Theodora starts to stir. I’m cutting off the last, uneven chunk when her eyes pop open. I make my final snip then step back, not wanting to give her a heart attack.
Theodora sits up, confused and disoriented as her eyes dart from me to Madison, and then to the others. “What’s going on? Is it morning? Is there a fire?”
Madison surveys me. “Nice work, Chance. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
You and me both, I think. I hate what I’ve done.
“What’s going on?” Theodora asks again more urgently, fingering the chunks of hair littering her bed and finally putting two and two together. Her hands fly instinctively to her head, and she slides from beneath her blankets and runs to the mirror above her desk, flicking on the light. Eyes wide, Theodora takes in her altered appearance, then turns back and zeroes in on me—and the scissors still in my hand. There’s no point in trying to pretend. She knows I did this.
“Welcome to the Ten,” I say, resigned, and before anyone can do or say anything else, in the only act of solidarity and penance I can think of, I take the scissors to my own hair.
*
Fifteen minutes later, the ten of us huddle around the virtual fire in the turret room at the top of Cypress. We sit in a circle, not talking, staring at the gold-framed photos that line the opposite wall—portraits of past Ten members. I shoot a glance at Theodora, who keeps running her fingers through her butchered hair. Maude sits next to her, but they don’t talk. Next to them is Levi. He isn’t wet, nor does his hair look any different, so I wonder what they did to him. Maybe I’d rather not know.