Teacher turned to me. “During your time here, Kit, you’ve addressed specific fears with me. But the Quests of Fearlessness are about mastering universal fears, fears that almost every human being struggles with at one point or another. The first of those fears is of judgment.” She smoothed and resmoothed invisible creases in her black wool trousers, put her hands in her pockets. “We waste so much time during our brief lives worrying what others think of us. We fear their reactions to our outfits, our weight gain, our hair loss. We fear what they’ll think if we dance at a wedding or down the sidewalk.”
I nodded, rubbing my upper lip against my nose to warm it, chiding myself to quit fidgeting and pay attention.
Teacher sighed deeply. “But we also fear judgment of our bigger decisions. We worry others won’t approve of our jobs or our homes or our partners. At Wisewood, we believe it’s impossible to reach our Maximized Selves so long as we’re worried about other people’s judgments. Q1 is a way to move past that judgment.”
Though I wouldn’t have worded it that way at the time, fear of other people’s judgments was one of the reasons I’d signed up for Wisewood. I would do whatever it took to be rid of the fear. I vowed to exemplify fearlessness, to make Teacher proud.
She winked at me. “You don’t have to look so anxious. You’ll be fine.”
I realized I was gripping the desk. I let go and forced myself to breathe.
“Better,” Teacher said. “We host q1 in this former schoolroom to remind ourselves that we are all students—yes, even me—constantly learning and evolving.” She paused. “Close your eyes.”
I fought the urge to bolt from my seat and out the door. The rain started coming down harder, bouncing off the shingles. I did as she’d said.
“Imagine the worst thing you’ve ever done. You might have to dig for it, but most likely, it surfaced right away. It’s something you’ve never forgotten, probably a guilt you carry. Nothing to do with your mother—that’s ground well covered by now. Are you thinking of something?”
I hesitated, then nodded.
“That guilt is heavy, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said, eyes shut.
Save for the driving rain, the room was sarcophagus quiet.
“Now,” Teacher said, making me jump, “imagine removing that guilt from your shoulders. Would you like that?”
I nodded again.
“I’d like it too.” Teacher’s voice was getting closer to me. My eyelids fluttered. “What you’re going to do is share that misdeed with everyone here, so that you may be free of it. Once you release the burning secret, you’ll begin to recover. And with recovery, you inch closer to your Maximized Self. You may open your eyes.”
When I did, her face was up close to mine, her irises glowing. She took both of my hands in her own papery palms. “I know you can do this.”
I opened my mouth, but she cut me off before I could say a word. “Begin by stating your full name, Kitten.”
“Katharine Frances Collins.” My face burned. “One time I got behind the wheel after a night out and drove home. It wasn’t a long trip, but still, I could’ve gotten a DUI. Or worse.”
Teacher’s face fell. She dropped my hands, her ankles cracking as she pulled herself to standing. She glared down her nose at me. “I hope I haven’t misjudged inviting you here. We expect a serious infraction, an admission of true vulnerability. You’re not telling us the whole truth.”
I unzipped Jeremiah’s coat, sweating. How did she know?
She ogled the others, walking the rows again. “Why don’t the rest of you share your own q1 admissions? Reassure Kit she’s not the only imperfect being in the room?”
I struggled to erase the fear from my face. This was my one chance, and already I’d screwed it up. A familiar urge began to build in my fingertips.
Debbie spoke first. “I stole from the diner cash register when I was short on rent.”
Teacher laid a soft hand on Debbie’s back.
“I planted my stash in another employee’s locker so my dad would fire him instead of me,” Sanderson said. Teacher winked at him.
Ruth flushed. “I wrote bad checks to get enough money together to move to Maine.” Teacher nodded her approval. It took all of my self-control to keep my face blank. Ruth, of all people, had committed fraud?
Sofia began to speak, but Teacher held up her hand, shifted her focus to me. The urge to pull, to yank, zipped through my forearms toward my shoulders. Not now. One of the desks creaked as someone moved in their seat.