Billy Killer

1

Prologue: Prologue: All Aboard!
We must take pride in our gentle resilience through adversity.
-From the Philosophical Considerations of Lady Françoise Renaldt

Your mother calls to you through the throng. "Come on, darling, you'll miss the train!"

You drag your trunk through the crowd of parents, noisy students, and various relatives and hangers-on. Few people but Gallatin students take this train; most of the people your age are dressed in the Gallatin College uniforms, just as you are.

The platform is pure chaos. Thick steam billows from the engine; guards bellow commands and blow piercing whistles. From the road nearby, car horns blare out. Younger siblings squeal, while students shriek and throw their arms around each other.

"Excuse me," someone behind you snaps, and shoves past you for the train door.

I step aside, allowing them to pass.
I glower in their direction.
I shove them back with a sharp elbow.
I call out. "There's no need to be so rude!"
Next
.They stumble, but continue on their way. All you see of them is their back; they wear a Gallatin uniform—of course—and the back of their head is sleek and dark. They board the train without a second glance.

Beside the door, your parents are waiting. Your father still has that gaunt, anxious look, while your mother has expertly applied her make-up to hide the tired expression that seems to stay no matter how much she sleeps.

They've been that way since just after your eighteenth birthday.

Next

It's been an…eventful time. Several months ago, you were planning your debut, with nothing to worry about but your outfit and sparkling conversation. But with your parents' sudden fall into disrepute, all the money set aside for the debut was handed over to Gallatin College to cover your fees. Completing a year at one of Westerlin's most prestigious finishing schools could help restore the family name—or so your parents think.

"You're untouched by all this," your father told you. "Graduating from Gallatin is an honor—and you'll make plenty of connections there who can give us a helping hand. You might even make a good marriage."

In other words, your parents are depending on you to clear up their scandal.

Next

The train whistle blows, and your mother flags down a porter for your luggage; the porter tips her hat and begins rolling it aboard. Your hands feel rather empty without it, but your father pulls you into a tight hug.

"I'm so sorry that things have been so difficult," he tells you. "But—please do understand, enrolling at Gallatin is for your own good, and for our good, too."

His voice cracks. Your mother's expression is careful and smooth, but she presses a knuckle against her cheek to hide a tear.