In their classes, Amy and Megan were allowed to stand at the sides of the classrooms and put their notebooks on lecterns. Amy was unspeakably grateful that the punishment was considered over, and that the school did not feel it necessary to inflict further pain.

Megan was in two of Amy's three classes that day. Amy found it funny, and fascinating, that several girls approached Megan before and after class -- tentatively, nervously, as if they were approaching a panther of uncertain disposition and feeding history -- to ask her about the new training technique.

Amber, for one, asked, "How long did it take you before those moves felt natural?"

Megan shrugged. "I really don't remember. It was a long time ago. But I know there wasn't just one day where I said, Oh, okay, I don't have to think about it anymore. It's a gradual thing, like any other hanging technique."

Behind Amber, Stacia asked, "Did you learn it on the neck trainer?"

"Not exactly the same equipment, but something similar. Same idea, anyway."

Megan was, again, giving Amy those just-for-an-instant looks, like the ones at the meeting earlier. Amy wondered if she should ask the girls to back off, as Megan might be able to take only so much of this at any one time. She decided to see how things went, on the assumption that Megan probably had enough determination to survive at least one day of it.

Amy was startled to see Jackie standing in front of her, leaning towards her with her elbows casually resting on the front of the lectern. In a low voice that wouldn't carry to where Megan was standing, Jackie asked, "Is this for real?"

Amy shrugged. "I'm pretty sure it is. I can't promise. I've been wrong before."

Jackie watched as another of the girls approached Megan. "What'd you threaten her with?"

Amy shook her head. "It wasn't like that. Exactly. We did have a long talk. Thanks for last night, by the way."

"Welcome. Maybe I should have whaled on your butt, though. What you did for her was nuts."

"So I've heard. But..." Amy stopped watching Megan, turning her head to look at Jackie directly, and covered Jackie's hand with her own. "Give her a chance, okay? I already owe you a lot, but could you do this one more thing for me?"

Jackie looked puzzled. "How would that be something I'm doing for you?"

"I still need to share a room with her."

Jackie sighed. "Even more nuts. But okay. Can't wait to collect on this debt. Maybe I'll have you do something for me you don't like." She twitched her eyebrows playfully and smiled.

Amy grinned. "If you're talking about sex, there's not much I don't like, unless you can turn yourself into my brother. Deal's off if you manage that."

Jackie choked back a laugh. "Okay, something short of that, then. We'll talk later."

Amy breathed slowly and deeply as she stood on the platform with her wrists crossed behind her, both to prepare her body and to try to keep her mind calm. She jumped slightly as Megan started wrapping the rope around her wrists. It's okay, she told herself, it's okay. There's no way now she'd do anything like last night.

"You don't want to use the neck trainer? I could rig it up in a few minutes."

Amy shook her head. "I'll start that tomorrow. I want the rope tonight."

Megan dropped the noose down over Amy's head and tightened it around her neck. Amy could see Megan biting her lip. Haltingly, Megan asked, "Do you... want somebody to watch?"

Amy smiled and shook her head. Showing any lack of trust in Megan now would undo everything that Amy had seen happening in Megan today. Megan indeed seemed to have incorporated a spirit of cooperation with others into her quest to be the "best Hanging Girl ever," but Amy didn't doubt that getting through today was the hardest thing Megan had ever done in pursuit of that goal. Amy hoped she'd been right in telling Megan it would grow more natural to her as time went on. It appeared to Amy that even Megan's single-minded determination to do whatever it took was not entirely sufficient. The looks Megan had been shooting at Amy at times of greatest stress gave Amy the strong impression that Megan found herself needing to draw strength from Amy -- the Amy who believed Megan could do it.

Standing there, waiting for Megan to hang her, it was impossible for Amy to banish the nervous feeling completely. She couldn't separate herself at this moment from all of the emotions of last night. She struggled to control her breathing, and at last, as the platform began sinking, her training took over.

She realized, as she lost contact with the platform, that she had been blocking conscious consideration of her greatest worry -- that she would be overcome by a new fear of hanging, making her unable to do what she loved the most. She felt a rush of joy as she wriggled above the floor, suspended by the neck, and felt closer than ever before to Miranda, certain now, as she had not been for the last twenty-four hours, that her life would end with the same triumph that Miranda's had.

She wanted to stay aloft forever, and was frustrated when the first signs of hypoxia told her she had to come down. She felt a momentary tremor of worry that Megan would, again, fail to respond to her down-signal, but knew in her heart that last night would forever remain in the past.

Megan, in fact, lunged almost convulsively at the lever when Amy waggled her foot, looking as though she wished she could hurry the platform's timed rise to a level that supported Amy's feet once more.

Megan was looking at her watch, still seeming nervous for some reason. "Six minutes."

While pleased with a time that represented a new personal best, Amy wished she knew what was up with Megan right now. She decided to let it go -- Megan had been through enough upheaval in the last twenty-four hours to account for any amount of uncharacteristic behavior.

It didn't seem to affect her performance once she was airborne for her own practice session. Amy suspected that Megan, like herself, felt so much at home swinging from a noose that any distractions going on in her personal life were somehow set aside once she was suspended by her neck.

Amy, looking on, felt the same reactions flooding her consciousness that always came as she watched Megan up close. After last night she'd wondered whether that would be the same as well, but the tingling between her legs, the trickle of juices almost spurting from her pussy to dribble down her thigh -- it was all back, with its customary force.

Megan was improving on something she'd been trying out lately: raising her legs behind her so she could catch hold of her toes with her fingers, which helped her spread her legs apart a little farther, while rocking her hips back and forth, looking more than ever as if she were having sex in mid-air. She really did it only briefly, for all she seemed to do it forever, before letting go of her toes and letting her legs swing free again. Desperate-seeming leg kicking was an indispensable part of any hanging show.

Amy found she almost couldn't breathe, and nearly started rubbing between her legs, despite her resolve to save that for the privacy of the bathroom afterwards. Amy wondered who would feel the arousal more intensely -- an audience member unfamiliar with Megan's special moves, seeing them for the first time, or Amy herself, watching Megan in privacy, so close she could touch her, having always to restrain herself from doing exactly that. It was, of course, no help at all that Amy felt such a helpless physical attraction to Megan even when she wasn't hanging.

Amy was barely able to think of anything other than her need for sexual release by the time Megan finally waggled her foot. It was lucky for Megan that Amy's reflexes were sufficient to move her arm to the lever to engage the mechanism that brought the platform back up under Megan's feet. Amy had even trained herself, after that first time, to untie, with fumbling fingers, the rope holding Megan's wrists before making her dash to relieve her needs. That done in a few seconds, Amy was halfway to the bathroom when she heard Megan rasp out, "Amy, wait!"

Amy, irritated, turned and said, "It'll only take..." but stopped when she saw Megan's face. Amazingly, considering all the new emotions Amy had seen from Megan in the last day, Megan's face looked as tense as Amy had ever seen it. "Megan, what's wrong? Do you need to see the nurse?"

Amy approached Megan and reached up to loosen the noose, but Megan snorted with nervous amusement and removed it from her neck herself. "I don't think the nurse can fix this. Do you want... I mean, you could..." Megan grimaced and covered her face with her hands. "Shit, shit, shit."

Amy, stunned, saw that Megan was crying -- Amy had seen that last night, but at least then there had been an obvious reason for it. Feeling completely at a loss, she whispered, "Megan, just tell me!"

Megan, her voice now husky from crying, said in a low voice, "I'm not so socially ignorant that I don't understand what I'm feeling right now. I know what it is, and I just don't need it."

Amy reached up, gently prying Megan's hands away from her face. "If it's something you understand, then help me understand it, okay?"

Megan, not making a move to step off the platform, looked down at Amy with teary eyes. "I... I never had a girlfriend, or a boyfriend either. I mean, of course I went to the clubs and learned all about sex, because I knew I needed to, and it felt really nice and was a lot of fun, but I never connected with any of them. You know? I was never even with anybody more than once."

Amy, unable to think of anything except how stupid she'd feel if she was jumping to the wrong conclusion about where Megan was going with this, could only clear her throat and say, "Keep going."

Megan covered her eyes again. "But..." She paused so long Amy wondered whether she needed another prompt, but at last she went on just as Amy was opening her mouth. "...all day today I just kept thinking about how nice it felt holding you last night, and when the other girls were talking to me I just felt like I had to look and make sure you were there. And during History of Hanging..." That was the one class of the day Megan didn't share with Amy -- Amy had it at a different time, "...I c-couldn't stop thinking about wanting to see you there, needing to see you..."

She finally threw her hands down to her sides and looked at Amy defiantly. "I can't have this now! Not now, not ever! It's a distraction, it gets in the way. And then there you are, heading for the bathroom to have sex with yourself, and I can't stop thinking about... about..."

The hardest thing Amy had ever done, she thought, was restrain herself from throwing her arms around Megan and pulling her over to the bed. She was suddenly overwhelmed with a vision of herself and Megan holding each other, clutching at each other, kissing, making love, and it took a strident internal voice screaming at her that this wasn't the time, that she couldn't ruin everything by taking advantage of Megan's current barely coherent state. Her teeth almost chattering, Amy suppressed a moan and said, "Megan, I can handle this if you'll let me run in there and do myself first." She pointed to the bathroom. "Okay?"

Megan paused, then shook her head violently. "I don't... I don't want you to have to do that. I want it to be with me..." She covered her face once more.

Another vision of passion swept through Amy's consciousness, and she let go a helpless squeak, her hand diving between her legs. She worked again to force some degree of calm on herself. "Megan, I know you've gone through a lot of new things last night and today. A big emotional meatgrinder. But there's no reason to be afraid of what you're feeling now. Really."

Her voice muffled by her hands, Megan snapped, "I can't fall in love! I'll be wrecked as a Hanging Girl! I can't let anything mess me up!"

Instinctively Amy turned to look at Miranda, her hands making a helpless What-do-I-do? gesture. Memories of the most important day of her life came flooding back.

Amy reached up and pulled Megan's hands down. "Megan, look at Miranda." She held Megan's hands tightly, willing her to comply. Megan finally turned her reddened, teary eyes in that direction.

"Megan, you want to be the best Hanging Girl ever. You're looking at her. You've heard what the upper class girls say about her." The older girls, especially the Third Years who had known Miranda best, still came by periodically to visit Miranda in her new room, sharing warm memories of her with Amy, marveling at things Miranda had done that the Academy's younger students had all tried to imitate. And, Amy noticed, one of the few times Megan seemed to pay respectful attention to anything anybody around her said was when they were detailing Miranda's abilities. If there was anything any Hanging Girl had ever been able to do, Megan wanted to make sure she could do it.

Amy saw that Miranda had Megan's full attention now. She went on, "Remember, I didn't meet just her on the day of her show, I met her roommate Beth, too. I was there when they said goodbye to each other. I saw them share their last kiss. If you'd been there, you would have seen how much they adored each other." Amy paused, and then went on, speaking slowly, emphasizing each word. "And then Miranda went right out and put on the most fantastic show anybody's ever seen.

"Megan, you're such a natural at this that it's unbelievable. It's got to be in your blood. If your mother hadn't met your dad, I'd have to guess she would have been a Hanging Girl like her sister was. And you've got more determination than all of the rest of the girls here put together. But I've had some experiences you haven't had and I've seen some things you've never seen. You're just going to have to trust me sometimes. So listen -- what you're feeling doesn't change who you are. Being a Hanging Girl is down so deep inside you that nothing can ever hurt it. Look, when you were hanging a minute ago, you had all this running around inside your head, and I still couldn't tell from looking at you that anything was bothering you. Not while you were up there. Do you understand now that your feelings are nothing you need to be afraid of?"

Megan rubbed her eyes and sniffled. "Maybe. I hope so. I've got them whether I want them or not."

Amy reached up for Megan's hands once more. "Then come down here with me. You're still up on the platform because it's home to you. I can see the way you've been rubbing your shoulder against the noose. But you carry the noose around inside you. You're never going to lose it."

Megan looked in surprise at the loop of rope -- she hadn't been conscious of what she'd been doing with it. She gave Amy a tiny smile and stepped down.

Standing facing Megan now, her eyes locked with Megan's, Amy's knees felt suddenly weak. How did we get here, she wondered, and is this really going to happen? Amy wanted to make the first move, but felt immobilized. She stammered uncertainly, "So h-how do you want... ulffff!" Megan had suddenly thrown her arms around Amy, pulling her whole upper body against her in a tight grip, her wide eyes just inches away.

Amy wriggled her arms loose underneath Megan's and wrapped them around Megan's waist. The next few seconds were forever a blank to her memory -- she didn't know which of them had initiated the kiss. It simply seemed her lips were against Megan's already by the time she noticed, and she felt the need inside her growing as they both pressed their mouths harder against each other.

Megan broke off the kiss and glanced at the bed. Amy giggled suddenly. "How are we going to get there? I can't sit down and I know you can't."

Megan smiled and then broke into a laugh, let go of Amy and knelt the bed, letting herself down carefully onto her side, never letting the tenderest part of her butt touch the sheets. Amy followed her down and lay facing her, and they both let their arms snake around each other again, Amy pushing her leg in between Megan's.

As their movements against each other and their kisses became more urgent, Amy suddenly knew that a missing piece of her life's puzzle had slotted into place, never to be lost.