THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY

Amy, holding Megan's left hand with her right and her travel bag in her own left, grinned at Jana's excitement.

Jana, jumping up and down in place, her fists clenched, her face glowing, bubbled, "This is going to be so cool, Megan!"

Megan smiled back. "I know. I remember my first show."

Amy always felt a little amused at seeing the first-ever underclass girl to have a crush on Megan. Every student in school was in awe of her, but the degree of that awe kept them at a distance. Jana's feelings were much more personal. Amy gave Jana a big-sister look. "Jana, just keep remembering this is Monique's day."

Jana looked slightly hurt. "I know, Amy, I know. I'm trying to get it all out of my system now so I can just be cool when the time comes. I'm not going to take any attention away from her at her own hanging."

Beside Jana, Melissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "It's like the air... I don't know, tastes different out here."

Amy laughed. "I remember how it felt, my first time out. There's this whole world out here you've almost forgot about." Graduation, last week, had been a big moment for the Second Years, allowed out of the secured area for the first time, but today was a still bigger step for Jana and Melissa, being allowed off the campus altogether. It wasn't as if they'd been cooped up in the building -- all of the girls had plenty of tanning and jogging time outdoors in the Academy's inner courtyard. But, Amy agreed, it seemed different out here.

Monique, for her part, had that other glow -- the one that always suffused the face of a Hanging Girl on the day of her show. She was the first of Amy's class to be sold for hanging, and she was immensely proud. The arrangements, in fact, had been made the week before graduation -- the girls from Linda and Laney's class were all departed now, and the client had only the near-graduates to choose from, with the understanding that the sale would not be final until after the ceremony.

Amy set down her bag and hugged Monique tightly, barely touching her cheek to Monique's, trying not to spoil her makeup. Amy had said her real goodbyes to Monique earlier, after breakfast. This was more in the nature of a good-luck hug.

Monique was dressed to impress, just as Miranda had been when she had arrived at Amy's house so long ago -- white push-up bra, of a soft material that molded itself to her breasts, a very short matching skirt, white leather boots with high spiked heels, all of it looking gorgeous against her dark skin. Her collar, likewise white, read in flowing blue script, "Monique, Property of David Madison." Amy was tempted to think everyone at the pre-hanging party would stare at nothing but Monique's cleavage, but the outfit did draw the eye to her other attractive features as well. And of course, Monique was highly trained in making people admire everything about her. Amy whispered, "You're going to do a fantastic job, babe. But I'll miss you a lot."

Monique sighed and let go, and giggled. "Just don't make me cry, okay? I spent so much time on my eye makeup this morning."

Amy laughed. "Okay, I won't say how much I love you."

Monique grinned back, "Deal. I love you too."

Turning to Shawna, Amy gave her a hug as well. Shawna was dressed for her role as executioner in a black leather halter top that left a deep V opening between her breasts, very tight black leather pants that ended just below her knees, black spike-heeled boots similar to Monique's white ones, black Academy collar, and the requisite eyewear, nearly opaque-looking shades. As Amy released her from the hug, she let her hands drop down to take both of Shawna's. "Have you worked out who you're going to stay with after you get back?"

Shawna nodded. "For now I'll go back with Jackie and Erin." Shawna had moved in with them after Amy had volunteered to take her place as Megan's roommate.

Amy smiled. "That'll be nice. Remind you of the old days." Amy thought about asking Shawna to come by some night for a movie, but decided to wait and sound her out when she was alone with her. Shawna appeared to have forgiven Megan completely, and she and Megan had worked together closely as teachers of the essential techniques now used by all of the girls. They had not, though, in all this time, been together in a purely social way.

Jana and Melissa, as befitted their secondary roles, were dressed in slightly less eye-catching outfits, though still perfectly appropriate for parties, each in half-tops and short skirts, in green. Amy looked over Melissa's outfit. "You look really nice, hon. You did get to practice with them, right?" Amy felt a need to make sure Melissa and Jana were prepared for their roles. Monique was doing the Runaway Slave show, which now included one or two extra slaves, and Amy had recommended that she take Jana and Melissa along, for their first experience in a real show. Amy felt a certain degree of responsibility for their performance.

Melissa sighed in exasperation. "We hardly have to do anything, Amy. You know that. We're just a couple of naked slave girls in a cage, and we don't have any lines. Just moan in horror and cry when they drag in Monique to hang her and 'teach us the penalty for trying to escape.' And yes, we know to quiet down when the hanging actually starts."

Jana's eyes glowed. "And we'll be in chains!"

Amy laughed. She'd known Jana would love that part.

The limo pulled up in front. Monique, Shawna, Melissa, and Jana, all in still higher spirits now that their adventure was underway, tossed their bags in the trunk and piled in. Rolling down the window, Jana called out, "You'll be back tomorrow night, Megan?"

Megan grinned and nodded. "Tell me how everything goes."

"Oh, for sure! See you!"

From beyond Jana in the seat, Melissa waved enthusiastically. "See you Sunday night, Amy!"

Amy waved back, grinning. "Take notes!"

Melissa started to say, "I won't have..." and laughed as she realized Amy was joking. "Have a great weekend!"

As the limo pulled away, another rolled to a stop where the first had been. Anthony emerged from the driver's seat and opened the near door for Amy and Megan.

Amy felt suddenly odd to be so casually dressed while getting into an Academy limo. She had been off campus for a variety of reasons in the last two years, but nearly always for formal occasions, for which eye-catching attire was demanded. For her first family visit, admittedly not her own family, she wore denim shorts and a t-shirt with the Academy logo, of the sort some of the girls wore over their uniform bras in the summer when the building's air-conditioning was occasionally overly enthusiastic. Much as she hated parting with her red collar, she decided it didn't quite go with the outfit, and had chosen a dark blue one matching the shorts. Megan was even more casual, in a white tank top and cut offs, though in Megan's case, she was eye-catching regardless of whatever she happened to be wearing.

After fastening her seat belt, Megan closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, her hand over her chest. Amy rubbed Megan's back. "It's your own family, hon! Everything's going to be fine."

Megan muttered, barely loud enough for Amy to hear, "Hope so."

As Anthony opened the limo door, Amy emerged and took in her first sight of Megan's house. She was filled with wonder at the concept that Megan had ever lived anywhere other than the Academy. It was a nice, roomy-looking house, not as large as the one Amy had grown up in, but well over the minimum needed for a family with two daughters.

At the front door, Megan tried the doorknob, but found it locked. She sighed. "Probably forgot I don't have a key."

"Hope they remembered we're coming."

Megan snickered and, with another sigh, rang the doorbell, obviously a little put out at having to do that at her own house.

A girl opened the door, and Amy blinked in surprise. The girl appeared to be about nineteen or twenty, much too old to be Kathleen. She wore a white t-shirt partly covered by an open, sleeveless brown leather vest, with slightly darker pants, and sneakers on her feet. The only clue to her identity was the beautiful silvery chain-link slave collar. This, obviously, was Maya, the servant Megan's father had mentioned having bought a few months ago when he'd grown tired of getting by on twice-weekly maid service and cooking his own meals. Somehow Amy had visualized a woman closer to thirty or so. Maya's casual attire must be something Megan's father found attractive or cute, as he would be in charge of making the rules for Maya's wardrobe. Or possibly he had left it to her to decide how to dress. Maya was very pretty, her straight, nearly black hair cut shorter than shoulder-length, her bright eyes and full lips now collaborating in a smile, directed at Megan after an initial glance at Amy. She said cheerfully, "Hi, I know you're Miss Megan. Mr. Sadler has pictures of you all over." She gave a small curtsey, and turned to face Amy. "And you're Miss Amy, then." She repeated the curtsey, and backed away. "Please come in. Mr. Sadler is in the back yard, doing some gardening." She looked down at the bags Amy and Megan were carrying. "Please let me take those. May I show you your room first? And then I'll go find him."

As they stepped into the house, Amy heard Anthony, with a brief beep from his horn, put the limo in gear. She turned and gave him a quick wave, then followed Maya, realizing with a slight start that this was the first time in three years that she had been away from the Academy with no staff supervision. As unobtrusive as the bodyguards usually were, often to the point of invisibility in another room, Amy discovered she missed the eyes of the Academy, and felt vaguely as though she were playing hooky.

As they followed Maya into the house and down a short hallway, Amy looked at Megan, who seemed a little bemused. Amy would find out later whether Maya was meeting anything resembling Megan's expectations.

Maya stopped just beyond the first open door on the left, and turned to look back at them. "Mr. Sadler thought you should be in your old room, Miss Megan. He thinks the bed is big enough for Miss Amy too. Is that okay?" Maya stood waiting as Megan looked in through the doorway. The girl obviously hoped the sleeping arrangement was, in fact, okay, and that she wouldn't be called on to move any furniture, which she would, however, no doubt do cheerfully.

It was clear that Maya had been through a servant training school, usually a nine-month program of cooking lessons, cleaning methods, servant etiquette, and instruction in all of the standard sexual techniques. Students usually entered the school at 18. It appeared Megan's father must have bought her immediately after her graduation. Amy assumed Maya must share a bed with Megan's father -- there seemed only to be three bedrooms, two on one side of the hallway, the first of which Amy was standing in, the farther presumably Kathleen's, and one on the other side, likely the master bedroom.

Maya had stepped back to let Megan and Amy enter the room first. At her first sight of the room, Amy's jaw dropped open. A moment later, she nearly burst out laughing, only able to choke it back at the last second. When she trusted her voice, she said, "So, Megan. Is it... the same as when you left?"

Megan took a quick glance around and said absently, "Been dusted, I guess."

Amy's first thought had been, Megan lived here?? After a moment of reflection, it had occurred to Amy that nothing in the world could possibly better represent Megan.

The room was done primarily in pink, with other pastels in various spots. The bedspread, a darker pink than the walls, was covered in soft pillows and stuffed animals, the latter also occupying the top of a dresser with a pink cloth-bordered mirror. There were posters on the wall of talking animal cartoon movies, and one of a boy band rock group from more than a decade ago whose primary appeal had been to pre-adolescents -- Amy remembered being nuts about them for a time, along with her classmates.

Overall, three quarters of the room looked like an eight-year-old lived in it.

The fourth wall of the room was of an entirely different character. It consisted, from one end to the other, of wooden bookcases, packed with books and videos. The bookcases were of four-foot height, with each one at floor level surmounted by a second one on top of it, so that the tops of the higher bookcases came within inches of the ceiling. Within the bookcases were texts on physics, chemistry, anatomy, physiology, the cardiovascular and pulmonary systems, and hanging. The videos included movies and game shows with hangings in them -- Amy could tell by the titles -- and instructional hanging films of the sort aimed at amateurs interested in being snuffed by hanging who wanted to prolong the experience to the extent possible. (Amy wondered briefly whether Laney's sister Emily had found any of these.) There was a smaller collection of texts on mathematics, writing and language arts, history... Megan's other studies during her days of home schooling.

It was as if Megan had completely lost all interest in the decor of her room at age eight, making no age-appropriate updates, nor any changes at all other than to add to her collection of books, studying hanging to the exclusion of almost everything else.

Amy couldn't hold back the smile. I really should have expected this, she told herself.

Not having seen Kathleen's room yet, Amy was willing to bet that any visitor to these rooms would assume Kathleen was the older sister. While doing some headscratching over the books.

Behind them, Maya said, "If everything looks okay, Miss Megan, I'll go get Mr. Sadler now." She waited to be dismissed.

Megan had a quizzical smile of her own, unrelated to Amy's. "Maya, ummm... You are Maya, right?"

Maya smiled. "Yes, Miss Megan."

Megan sighed in amused exasperation. "Look, you don't need to call us that." She rubbed her own collar with her finger. "You know I'm a slave, right? Just like you. I'm not your mistress or anything like that."

Maya responded earnestly, "Mr. Sadler told me that while you're here, I'm to treat you as a family member. In this house, you are family, no matter what you are anywhere else. And that I should treat Miss Amy as your wife."

Megan opened her mouth again, then gave up -- her father was Maya's owner, and, family or not, there was nothing Megan could say that would supersede an order to Maya from her master. She looked at Amy with a smile and gave her a helpless shrug, then turned back to Maya. "I was about to ask, is Kathleen here?"

Maya shook her head. "Miss Kathleen is at the park, rollerblading with her friends. But Mr. Sadler is expecting her back for dinner." She stood waiting, expectantly.

Megan looked puzzled for a moment, as if she thought Maya might be awaiting a tip, then understood that the girl, having performed a service for her, couldn't leave her presence without her permission. "Ummm... okay, I think we can settle in here. Could you go check for my dad now?"

Maya smiled. "Yes, Miss Megan." She did the little curtsey again, and turned slightly to do it for Amy. "Miss Amy." She turned and went back up the hallway.

Megan shook her head. "That will take some getting used to."

Amy grinned. "Could be worse. He could have married her instead."

Megan shuddered. "Oh yeah. A step-mom younger than me." She shook her head again.

Amy slipped her arms around Megan's waist. "And she promoted me. I'm your wife now."

Megan laughed, and said, "Yeah, that'll be nice," before kissing her.

As she came into the living room, Amy heard running water through an outdoor faucet, and then the door to what must be the back yard opened. Paul Sadler entered, drying his hands on a towel, Maya trailing after him. He managed to toss it onto a hamper in the laundry room just before Megan put her arms around him, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder, saying "It's nice to be home, Daddy." She leaned back immediately and faced him, her eyes bright. "I've got some great news!"

Her father grinned and waited receptively.

Megan went on, excitedly, "My hanging is on, for a few months from now. Three or four months. The date's not set yet, but it's going to be on campus. And you'll be invited! You and Kathleen!" She bit her lip. "Will that be okay? If it's on, say, a Saturday afternoon? They'd want to do it early so they can cook me after, of course. Could both of you come?" Left unsaid was the obvious "please please please" in her eyes.

Her father's face lit up. "That's great, honey! Of course I can come."

"You and Kathleen."

"Sure, if she wants to. On campus, you said? Isn't that a little unusual? I know we just watched that girl, Pam, but she wasn't a graduate."

Megan looked flustered, torn between wanting to answer her father's question and wanting to get a more firm commitment on the subject of Kathleen. Amy jumped into the conversation. "It's kind of a special thing. Megan wants to hang for an audience familiar with Hanging Girls, so it's going to be members of the Academy Club. They already know her and they'll be eager to see what she can do." As am I, thought Amy.

Behind him, Maya said, "Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt. May I start on dinner now?"

"Oh! Sure." He waved her towards the kitchen. As she departed, he turned back to Megan. "So this is kind of an honor then, right?"

Megan grinned, apparently deciding to wait on the subject of Kathleen. "Oh, yes! It's like they're..." She colored slightly. "Well, kind of showing me off."

He laughed and gave her a squeeze. "That's my girl. Say, I'm just finishing up outside. Do you want to come and help? I'm just doing a little weeding and replanting. And I want you to tell me all about what this 'Academy Club' is."

Megan smiled uncertainly. "Ummm... you'll have to show me what to do." Obviously Megan had never helped her father with gardening before.

"Sure." He looked at Amy. "You coming too?"

Amy shrugged and grinned. "I'm game."

Amy yanked at another stem and tossed the weed into a nearby cardboard box. From where she knelt, she could see through the big bay window into Paul Sadler's comfortable-looking home office -- he would, she saw, have a gorgeous view looking out as he worked. Megan's father was a fiction editor, who had once worked in the offices of the publisher who employed him but, since the advent of the age of computer communications, had performed his editing duties at home.

Amy knew, from what Megan had told her, that her father, when it became necessary to pay for Megan's home schooling and hanging lessons, had supplemented his income by engaging in every editor's dream, writing books of his own. He had one well-received textbook on the art of editing to his credit, and a popular series of books on the bizarre prose he had run across in the books he'd been given to edit. The publisher was now kind enough to forward to Mr. Sadler the books that could never conceivably be published and had no need of an editor, which proved an endless source of wonderfully mangled grammar, syntax, and imagery.

It occurred to Amy that, while Megan had no resemblance to her father physically, there was no surprise at all that any of his offspring might be voracious readers.

As a stay-at-home dad, Paul Sadler had been able to raise his daughters on his own, following the consumption of his wife, their mother. Presumably, Megan's departure to attend the Hanging Academy, ending the need to pay for her lessons, had made it possible to save enough money to buy Maya.

Amy guessed about an hour had gone by in the garden, and Megan was asking again whether she was attacking the right shoot ("This one, Dad?" "Yeah, any of those with sort of a yellow cap. Pull those out.") when the back door opened, and Maya called out from the doorway, "Sir, Miss Kathleen is home."

Megan sucked in a quick breath and jerked her hand away from the weed she'd been about to pull. Amy could see her close her eyes, her jaw set. Amy knew that look. What in most people might have been a sign of anger was, on Megan's face, just a look of determination, to get something done. Megan stood and brushed off her hands. Amy, eager to meet the sister of whose existence she had learned years ago, stood as well.

As she followed Megan through the door, Amy stopped and strove mightily to suppress a gasp.

Kathleen was a beautiful girl who was on her way towards becoming a gorgeous woman. She was already over five feet tall, and would probably be at least as tall as Megan, likely taller, by the time she finished high school. At present her hair, as blonde as her sister's, was a little disarranged from exertion, but it framed a face that, like Megan's, would always make people stop and look a second and third time, all through her life. Her legs, as revealed by her shorts, had curves that might belong to a girl several years older. Under her t-shirt she was wearing a bra -- just an A-cup, it appeared, but it didn't look to Amy as if Kathleen was just pretending to need one. She had a pair of rollerblades, connected by their shoelaces, slung over her right shoulder.

If Amy had just seen Kathleen walking down the street as a complete stranger, she would have pointed and said to Megan, "Look, hon! That girl could be your sister!"

Megan's determination broke for just a moment, and she hesitated. Then she walked up to Kathleen and put her arms around her, keeping her hands outward. "Hi, Kathleen. Sorry, my hands are dirty."

Kathleen made a face, not trying to return the hug. "You're all sweaty, too."

Megan backed away. "So are you. You've been out rollerblading."

"Mine's almost dry."

Megan reached back and took Amy's hand. "Kathleen, this is Amy, my roommate at school." She smiled. "Or my wife, as Maya calls her. Amy?" She made a presenting gesture. "Kathleen, my sister."

Amy used her most winning smile. "Nice to finally meet you, Kathleen. Megan talks about you a lot."

Kathleen's face was neutral. "Nice meeting you too." She looked towards the kitchen and shouted, "Maya, is there anything to eat?"

From the kitchen came Maya's voice. "Not so close to dinner, Miss Kathleen."

Kathleen made a face again. "I'm going to take a shower. Can we play Lightning when I get out?"

Maya called out, "After I put dinner in the oven in about fifteen minutes. Girlmeat Special."

"Oh, good." Kathleen turned and sprinted to the hallway with the bedrooms. Moments later, Amy could hear a shower running.

Megan looked stunned. She had wanted to get into the subject of her hanging right away. Amy took her hand. "Megan, there's still lots of time." Amy smiled. "It looks like she kind of lives her life in a hurry."

Megan's jaw was working. At last she was able to say, "I don't know how to talk to her, Amy."

Amy rubbed her roommate's arm. "It's been three years. She'll warm up."

Megan shook her head. "I mean, I never knew how to talk to her."

Amy leaned her head on Megan's shoulder. "Honey, you didn't used to know how to talk to anybody. You'll be okay."

As soon as Kathleen vacated the steamy bathroom, Amy and Megan took it over and showered together. As they dried off and put on some fresh clothes from their bags, Amy could hear a lot of laughing from the kitchen.

In the kitchen, as Amy and Megan arrived there, a card game was in progress. Kathleen and Maya sat giggling, both of them, as Kathleen dealt the cards. Amy shrugged at Megan and addressed Kathleen. "Okay if we watch?"

Kathleen said absently, "Yeah. Kind of sit back from the table, though. We get a little wild."

It took some time for Amy to dope out the rules for a game, apparently "Lightning," she'd never seen before. Each player began with thirteen cards, with the remaining cards face down in a single pile between them. A card from the pile was turned face up and set on the table, and it was up to either player to set, on top of it, the next card higher, or else a card of the same number with the opposite color -- which then reversed the direction of play, that is, the last-played card now needed to be covered by the next lower card rather than higher, until a card with the same number and opposite color was played again. The players did not, strictly speaking, take turns. When Kathleen played a card, Maya might quickly play the next card on top of it -- but not if Kathleen could do it first. If Kathleen played a 5, Maya must look through her hand for a 6, or else a 5 of the opposite color, and play it before Kathleen could do the same, if she could. The player setting down cards must do it one at a time, waiting until she had set a card down before reaching for another.

Occasionally a player made a mistake, in her haste. When she did, the other player would call her on it, and the player making the mistake had to pick up the card she'd played, and take another card from the face-down pile and add it to her hand. Whenever neither player could play an appropriate card, a new card from the pile was turned face up. The player able to shed all her cards first was the winner.

Amy couldn't recall seeing any card game that called for the degree of quick thinking and reflexes that this one did. The reason for the name of the game was obvious.

As play went along, Amy quickly noticed that Maya was allowed to drop her slave-girl etiquette in this situation -- no "Miss Kathleen" or "Yes, ma'am." From both sides of the table came a steady stream of giggles, full-throated laughs, and exclamations. "No no, we're going up!" "Damn, I had a four!" "You rat! I was sitting here with a seven, eight, and nine all set to go!" (The last of those came from Kathleen. Casual familiarities with the mistress can only go so far.)

A beeping sound came from the oven. Maya turned to look at it, and then apologetically at Kathleen. "Sorry, Miss Kathleen. I need to get that out, and then set the table and see to the salads."

Kathleen grinned. "So that's a forfeit. I win, six games to three."

Maya smiled back. "Wait till next time, Miss Kathleen."

"Time to give up hope, Maya."

As Kathleen gathered the cards together, oriented them face down and began restoring the cards to their pack, Megan spoke up. "Can I play?"

Kathleen did a startled double-take. "With me?"

"Of course."

"Ummm... sure." She shuffled the cards, as Megan took Maya's place opposite Kathleen.

It seemed a different game. It proceeded a little more slowly for obvious reasons, with Megan's lack of familiarity, though she had a quicker mind than anyone Amy knew. But the main difference was in the atmosphere. Kathleen was quiet, her face a study in concentration, a slight frown on her face as her eyes flicked from the table to the cards in her hand, her fingers reaching quickly for the card she needed and throwing it down forcibly. No banter, no laughing. Amy marveled at Kathleen's combination of computer-like mind and machine-like reflexes, and suddenly smiled to herself, thinking about where she'd seen that before.

After two games, the first won easily by Kathleen, the second closer, Kathleen gathered up the cards and said, "I've got a new CD I want to listen to." A moment later, she was gone.

Megan fiddled idly with the cards, shaking her head. She sighed, "Amy, why was it so different?" She gestured between herself and Maya.

Amy rubbed Megan's shoulder. "She doesn't relate to you right now. She's got a whole life she's been living without you for three years, and she's used to that. And I know that you... have kind of a hard time with strangers. Maybe there's some of that in her too. She didn't exactly give me a rousing welcome."

"Amy, I'm not a stranger."

"To her, you are. For now. There's still tonight and tomorrow. Give it time."