didn’t realize I had a title.”
The girl reminded Sasha of herself at eighteen . . . maybe seventeen. Stern expression, eyes without emotion, set jaw. It was hard to read the girl’s thoughts with her guard so clearly raised like a wall around her.
“You do here.”
“What is your name?”
“Claire.”
“You’re American.”
Claire shrugged her shoulders. “I saw you yesterday in Ms. Denenberg’s class. Impressive.”
“I was taught by the best.”
Claire leaned forward on her elbows. “Do you use it? Outside these walls?”
“You’re asking if I fight?”
She gave a single nod.
“Why do you want to know?”
Claire scooted her chair back and stood. “Fine, don’t tell me.”
Sasha stopped her with one word. “Yes.”
Claire made eye contact and held it.
“How long have you been at Richter?”
“Two years.”
“You’re what? Seventeen?”
“Eighteen. I graduate in May.”
“Are your parents keeping you here, or are you going elsewhere for college?”
Claire looked away. “My parents are gone.”
The words I’m sorry hovered over her lips but didn’t come out. “So the decision to be here is yours.”
“Sometimes.”
“Only sometimes?”
Claire pointed at the faculty bracelet that scanned every door to open it. “I don’t have one of those, so yeah . . . sometimes.”
“You agree to the rules and conditions when you step on campus.”
“Yeah, I know.” She paused. “Did you choose to stay here for college, or did someone force you?”
“I had a benefactor who would pay for this school so long as I was here. I didn’t see the need to finish my education outside these walls.”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “You’re not like the other people here.”
“I’m not?”
“No. You didn’t ask about my parents. Didn’t offer sympathy.”
Sasha placed both hands to the sides of the book she had been looking at. “I’m not very nurturing. Besides, if you wanted me to have details of your parents, you’d have told me. The loss of a parent isn’t always something to be sorry about.”
“How so?”
“When my father died, I cheered. My mother was gone before I had a chance to know her. Wasting emotion on someone’s assumed life is rather pointless, don’t you think?”
“Richter taught you that.”
“Richter taught me many useful things.”
Claire turned her head away. “I guess.” She sighed.
Sasha gathered the yearbooks and stood. “It was nice meeting you, Claire.”
The girl didn’t offer the same. “Are you staying for a while? Joining the staff?”
“I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”
“That’s fair, I guess.”
“What about you? Are you going to stay for college?”
Claire lifted her chin. “I haven’t decided.”
Sasha smiled. “You have a few more months to figure it out.”
The girl shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll see you around, then.”
As she walked away, Sasha categorized the conversation with the girl as a completely new experience. Young women never sought her out and they certainly didn’t ask about her education or school years.
After returning the books to the stacks, she checked out a laptop from Ms. Arnold and returned to her room.
Chapter Five
“Have you found any answers?” Linette interrupted Sasha’s thoughts as she approached with her question.
She stood in one of the many archways of the outside halls surrounding the school’s courtyard. Students were leaving their classes and going back to their rooms to get ready for dinner. The schedule of the school hadn’t changed in twenty years.
“Good afternoon, Headmistress . . .” Sasha’s address to the woman faded. “Linette.”
“I was told you were in the library today.”
Nothing happened at this school without the woman’s knowledge, and oftentimes, permission.
“Examining old yearbooks. Trying to remember where my fellow classmates ended up.”
“And did you turn up anything promising?”
“I found very little, actually. Seems many of the students left Richter and disappeared. I tried looking them up online and only found a few people working in the private sector.”
Linette tilted her head down the corridor. “Follow me.”
Sasha fell into step beside the woman and waited for her to speak.
“What would I find if I were to look up your name?” she asked.
“In a general search? Probably nothing.”
“What about a detailed one? Like the kind we taught you in your final years here?”
“I’ve used an alias many times since I left Richter.”
“To escape your father’s attention, I can assume.”
“Yes.”
“I doubt you’re the only student to pretend to be someone they’re not. We taught you to go unnoticed when you want to, to stand out when you need to. Did you ask yourself why we did that?”
“You said it was to protect us. Considering Richter has educated senators’ sons, dictators’ daughters, and I’m sure many equally high-profile families in between, your explanation was sufficient.”
Linette guided her to the dining hall and