Pennyroyal Academy by M.A. Larson Page B

it, trying to imagine how this could be a person, when, in the same bunk, the statue of a boy lifted its head. It was alive, its calcified skin pliable, trapped somewhere between stone and flesh. When she was ten years old, Evie had stumbled upon a wounded fox cub. It looked as though it had met with an owl or hawk and somehow survived, but only just. She knew it wouldn’t survive much longer. She had the strangest sensation then, an intense compassion for the cub mixed with revulsion at its horrific wounds. The same sensation came over her now when she looked at the statue. Or boy. Whichever it was.
    She could feel the uncomfortable tickle of someone’s eyes on her, so she turned and found a squat, fat pig. It chuffed and snorted, but its eyes never left hers. It was disconcerting, a bit too intense for such a placid farm animal, so she stepped away and pretended to admire some multicolored vials on a shelf. But the pig followed.
    â€œWhat do you want? Go away.”
    Its bristled snout twitched as it took in her scent. She looked to her fellow cadets, as much embarrassed as alarmed, but none seemed to notice what was happening. When she tried to edge away, the pig darted forward. She backed into the shelf, vials shattering on the floor.
    â€œHelp!”
    The pig’s snorts grew louder and more insistent. It lunged at her again, and she tripped over a green-headed mallard, falling to the floor amid a flurry of quacks.
    The pig stood only feet away, its body shuddering like the injured fox cub in the forest. Several nurses approached, but kept their distance, as though it might come after them next.
    â€œWhat’s it doing?” called Evie.
    â€œStay calm!” said Wertzheim. “Don’t move!”
    The pig’s wheezing had become quite labored, its squeals more urgent. It was clear the creature was in great distress. Hooves clacked against stone as the pig’s body was wracked with violent spasms. A large brown spot on its side began to distend. The screams of the cadets rang through the Infirmary, joining the pig’s panicked shrieks.
    Finally, it collapsed on its side, bleating as though it were being butchered by an invisible cleaver. The needle-haired body elongated and contracted at once. Joints cracked as the legs violently speared straight. The snout began to mash in toward the rest of the face. The stricken animal squealed uncontrollably as its entire body mutated and contorted.
    Evie held her breath as the creature—it could no longer be called a pig—writhed on the floor.
    â€œSomeone do something!”
    Wertzheim dashed forward and threw a burlap blanket over the suffering creature.
    â€œMove, Cadet! Now!”
    Evie scrambled to her feet. The other cadets backed away from her as though she had caused whatever had just happened.
    More nurses rushed to help Wertzheim. They held the beast down and spoke in comforting tones. The thing beneath the blanket began to steady, taking huge, heaving gulps of air. The shock of the violent episode lingered like an echo, broken only by the casual honk of a swan. Finally, the nurses helped the creature to sit up.
    â€œOh . . .” said Wertzheim. “How extraordinary . . .”
    The blanket fell. Where there had once been a spotted pig, there now sat a boy. He was muscular and long with short black hair and heavy eyebrows. His muddy brown eyes looked utterly dazed, like he had just somehow survived a fall from the Queen’s Tower.
    â€œWhere is she?” His voice was a dry squeak, somewhere between pig and human. He ran his squinting eyes through the crowd until they found Evie. He tried to push himself up, but his arms buckled. A hacking cough rolled up from the deepest part of his lungs. The nurses helped him to his feet. He held the blanket around his chest like a cloak as he staggered toward her. With each shuffle of his feet, more humanness returned.
    â€œSteady, now, steady,” said