Twenty-four hours after the Drumstick, I still didn’t know how to feel. Was I relieved that our punishment was almost over? And that somehow over the past two nights, I’d managed to evade Nanny’s detection? (It helped that teachers never cleared dishes, an honor strictly enforced at Camden.) Or was I bereft about saying good-bye to these evenings with Jacob? As he and I walked together from the dining hall to the kitchen door, we were both quiet. Too quiet. So, of course, I had to go fill the awkward silence with even more awkward small talk. “So . . . have you had a nightmare about Hobart yet? Heh, heh.” I turned my head so he wouldn’t see me roll my eyes at my own lameness. But Jacob just shook his head. “Hobart’s not so bad,” he said. “As long as you respect the beast, right?” I looked at him in surprise. “That’s so funny, that’s what we say in blacksmithing,” I said. “About the forge.” Now Jacob looked a little squirmy. “Oh, um, yeah, I knew that,”
