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Unplugged(6)
Author: Gordon Korman

But besides that, the Oasis isn’t really a weight-loss place. The big thing here is wellness for your body and mind. “Be whole—” You hear it till it echoes in your brain. You keep your body healthy by eating right and through physical activity—sports, hiking, swimming, biking, zip-lining, kayaking, that kind of stuff. You keep your mind healthy by meditating and steering clear of anything that has a screen—no phones, no electronics, no video games, no TV.

At first, I was hoping that my parents would give up on the place when they found out it wasn’t weight-lossy enough. No such luck. They love it ten times more than a real weight-loss place. That’s even scarier. Mom and Dad give up on diets all the time. But a whole wellness lifestyle—they’re totally hooked. They love Magnus, the founder, who dreamed all this up. They love Ivory, the meditation pathfinder. We all do meditation, but the adults get these special one-on-one sessions that are supposedly super intense.

The first time my father has a personal session with Ivory, he comes back to our cottage and says, “I feel like my eyes are fully open for the first time in my entire life!”

“What did she do—body-slam you?” asks my sister, Sarah.

I have to laugh. Ivory may be built like a wrestler, but for some reason, I can’t imagine her ever having to lift a finger to get what she wants.

“She’s the best,” Dad insists. To Mom, he adds, “You’ll see.”

Sure enough, the next day, my mother comes back from Ivory with her eyes open for the first time too. Which begs the question: If both their eyes are so open, how come they don’t notice that the leek soup they served at lunch made my ears swell up to the size of cabbages?

We’re about a week into our time at the center when Sarah pulls me aside and hisses, “What’s the deal with Mom and Dad? They love it here!”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I figured they’d lose interest, but I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon. They’re talking about extending our stay an extra month.”

“An extra month?” Her eyes bulge and she grabs me by the fabric of my BE WHOLE T-shirt. “No! Landon is all alone at home and I can’t even call.”

I shrug. “So?”

Sarah presses her sneaker onto my bare foot and grinds it into the floor.

“It’s not like you guys are ever out of touch,” I add painfully. “You write each other a million letters.”

“Letters!” She leans harder into my foot. “Letters aren’t enough!”

“Then why do you write so many?” That turns out to be the wrong thing to say. “Ow! Okay, stop! What can I do? I’m not in charge! Mom and Dad are!”

You can’t use logic with Sarah. It’s not that she doesn’t understand it. She just doesn’t care. Maybe she can’t do anything about her own suffering, but she’s great at making sure she doesn’t suffer alone. When she’s miserable, she’s got a knack for sharing the misery. Usually with me.

I wonder if Landon knows he’s dating Lady Voldemort.

To be honest, I’ve got no more complaints than everybody else. None of the kids at the Oasis come here by choice. They get dragged by their parents, the same as Sarah and me. Like Grace—her mom is a total health nut who visits every summer. Actually, Grace might not be the best example. She’s the only kid who loves the Oasis almost as much as the adults do.

There’s Brandon Bucholz, all six foot two of him at age thirteen. The word is that his dad used to be a big-time college football star who even played a few NFL seasons. That’s not hard to believe—the guy makes his gigantic son look normal size. The Bucholzes have been coming ever since Brandon’s dad hung up his cleats a few years ago to open a car dealership. Ivory’s meditation is the only thing that works on curbing the aggressive tendencies Mr. Bucholz developed during his football career. Never mind that Brandon—who’s headed for high school in September and hopes to make the football team—wants to get more aggressive, not less.

Twins Alex and Amelia Azuma are eleven—a year younger than me. The Azumas have come all the way from Canada. The only time I’ve ever seen the parents is in the dining hall. You can’t really miss them. They’re always going up for seconds and thirds and raving about how great the food is. Spoiler alert: it really isn’t, but I suppose it’s better if you’re not allergic to it.

I have no idea what Mom and Dad Azuma do when they’re not eating. They’re either the busiest people at the whole Oasis or maybe they sleep between meals. The only parents that are scarcer than the Azumas belong to this girl Brooklynne Feldman. The number of times I’ve seen them: zero. I don’t even know what cottage the Feldmans live in, so there’s no way I can spy on them and catch a glimpse. Brooklynne is tall, thin, and kind of angular—tomboyish. She shows up for the kid activities around here even less than Jett. So maybe a better description would be that she’s super independent. Come to think of it, I do know one thing about the Feldmans: they must be pretty easygoing to be okay with letting their daughter be on her own so much. How do you get that lucky? My folks would send out a search party if I so much as showed up five minutes late to Awakening or tried to skip a single meditation class with Ivory.

That’s it for the middle schoolers, except the new guy, Jett. It blows my mind that Vladimir Baranov sent his son to the Oasis of Mind and Body Wellness. Don’t get me wrong. The creator of Fuego has enough money to buy the Oasis and kick Magnus and the pathfinders out, and still have plenty left to take over Arkansas and install Jett as governor. But Vladimir Baranov is more than just rich and famous. He’s a legend—the greatest innovator in the history of Silicon Valley. That means Jett is like royalty—tech royalty, anyway. Who expects to run into someone like that in a place like this?

Of all the kids who are at the Oasis under protest, Jett is at the top of the list. Why else would Jett’s dad send a full-blown Fuego executive clear across the continent to make sure his son gets here and stays here? Oh, sure, that guy Matt uses the term companion, but anyone can see that his real job description is guard. Bodyguard, probably, but at least a little bit the prison kind too. Matt’s the only reason Jett shows up for anything at the Oasis. And when he does come, he’s not the nicest guy in the world to be around. He seems pretty angry about having to be here.

“So who sent for him?” Grace demands.

Grace has been my best friend in the nine days we’ve been here. She’s really nice. It’s just that she’s such a big fan of this place that she can’t handle any criticism of it. To her, a guy who oozes attitude like Jett is the equivalent of waving a red flag in front of a bull.

We’re standing on the dock with the rest of the kids, watching Matt march Jett along the pathway to join us. It reminds me of those old-time war movies where an escaped prisoner is being prodded back behind barbed wire at the barrel of a gun.

I raise a hand in greeting. “Over here, Jett.”

I feel pretty stupid when he ignores me.

“What are you doing?” Grace hisses. “You’ll make him think he’s welcome—which he’s not.”

“Give him a chance,” I plead.

“Why should we?” she demands. “So he can be as rude to us as he is to Magnus?”

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