“This won’t take long. Your life advisor will review what’s expected of you in more detail, but I’d like to go over the most important guidelines.”
“Um, what’s a life advisor?” I ask, having heard her say it twice now.
“Every student is assigned someone to guide them. Your life advisor will help you make the best possible choices while you’re here. But more importantly, he’ll provide you with the confidence and skills to continue to make positive life decisions long after you’ve left us. We want you to succeed. To Thrive. To be your absolute best self. And we’re here to make sure that happens. We pride ourselves on educating and transforming young people into responsible and contributing members of society.”
I may have just thrown up in my mouth because it’s all bullshit. Every word. This woman’s only concern is making sure her checks clear to cover her Botox injections. She sure as hell doesn’t give a damn what happens to me, while I’m here or long after I’m gone.
And this is when I disconnect. Everything that flies out of her smiling mouth becomes a buzz of rhetoric. I watch her lips move with a pained expression, my cheeks ache just looking at her. Not a single line moves on her face other than her mouth. Maybe the smile is surgically altered. A facelift gone wrong. It’s weird considering how animated she is … like a Disney character on crack. Overly sweet and unbelievably fake. I guarantee there isn’t a single authentic thing about this woman. Not her personality. Her gleaming white teeth. Her perky boobs. Or her emblazoned red hair.
The sourness in my stomach intensifies the longer I sit here, watching her shiny pink lips stretch and contort. With every word, the disingenuousness is revealed, like peeling an apple to find it’s rotting underneath its shiny red flesh. It’s all a façade. The truth is concealed within the twist of her words.
“To help you focus and be in the moment, we don’t allow students to have their own personal cell phones or computers. You may use the computers in the study hall and library, but they do not grant access to social media sites or personal email accounts. We want you to be fully present in your studies and engage with your peers at Blackwood.
“I know it’s a bit of an adjustment, but soon, you won’t even miss the distractions.” She says this without pause, as if she was prepared for me to have some sort of adverse reaction. I’m sure most students do when they learn they’ll be disconnected from the rest of the world. But I wouldn’t have access to a phone or a computer in juvie either. It’s not that big of an adjustment for me. It just sucks that I can’t contact Tori and Nina to let them know where I am.
She sets a small black phone on the desk. “We offer our own phone service so that we may communicate with you and support your positive choices. These phones will contact the administrative office, the security team and your approved contacts. We’ll periodically check in. It’s part of our exceptional security protocol. We want to keep you safe and will make certain the choices you make do just that.”
What? I almost say it out loud, but catch myself. Why are they concerned about my safety? We’re in the middle of the fricken woods! Why do they need to stalk my every move? What kind of trouble could I possibly get into? Who needs this much supervision?
“Can the phones call out?”
“Yes. But they’re monitored and can only call your approved contacts.” She drags her mouse and makes a few clicks. “You’re able to call Faye Peri or Niall Harrison.”
“What about my friends?” I’m doubtful they’re listed, but I have to ask.
“They aren’t approved right now. But they may be added at a later time, once we’ve all agreed they’re not going to deter from your success.”
My success? What exactly are they expecting? This is sounding more like a reprogramming facility where they feed everyone bullshit and convince them it’s candy. Exactly how do they plan to bring out our best selves? I’m actually afraid to find out. Especially when she keeps talking about how transformative this will be. This place is starting to freak me out.
The Queen Warden continues, but I’m lost in my head, trying to calm the cataclysm of emotions roiling inside of me. When she finally stands, handing me the phone that I left untouched on her desk, I can’t look at her. I’m too busy chanting, it’s just six months, over and over in my head. It’ll be painful, like electroshock therapy, but it won’t last forever. I can do this. What other choice do I have? But thinking that only pisses me off all over again.
A knock turns me around.
“Perfect timing.” She walks to the door. “Sophia, thank you for being so prompt.”
“Of course,” a pleasant voice says from the other side.
“Please, come in.” The Queen Warden takes a step to the side and a girl with shoulder-length black hair held back by a floral scarf greets me. She has big, round grey eyes that are striking against the light brown of her skin. Even though she’s a few inches taller than me, she seems more delicate, like a doll, wearing a powder blue gingham skirt, a short-sleeved white blouse and sandals.
“Lana, this is Sophia,” the Warden says. “I’ve asked her to give you a tour of the campus and to accompany you to dinner.”
Sophia smiles so wide I can see all of her teeth. “Hi.”
I nod without saying anything, not feeling very right now.
“You girls enjoy the rest of this beautiful day.”
I brush past Sophia without a glance.
“Hold up,” she calls, following after me into the foyer.
I’m pacing in front of the main doors, trying to wrap my head around what kind of messed up school I got sentenced to, by the time she catches up.
“It’s different than you were expecting, huh?” she asks calmly, but with a tone of understanding. “It is for everyone when they first get here.”
I stop and stare at her. “Where is here? I have no idea where I am.”
Her eyes tighten in confusion. “They didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t even know the name of the school until I arrived. I know I’m not in Massachusetts. But where? New York? Connecticut?”
“Vermont,” she answers. “In a town called Kingston. It’s not a large town. The students from the two private schools and the skiers in the winter months bring in more people than probably live here year-round. But we pretty much keep to ourselves.” She motions toward another set of doors on the opposite side of the foyer. “Want to take a walk around?”
I shrug in indifference.
When we’re through the doors, I’m struck by an overwhelmingly sweet fragrance. Across the small rectangle of grass is what appears to be a tunnel formed by wisteria vines.
“We call this the Court. I suppose it’s meant to be short for courtyard. It connects all of the buildings together.”
The emerald green lawn stretches the length of the building, interrupted by hedges that are a story tall. We’re caged in by the shrubbery and the only way out, other than going back into the building, is through the flowers.
I look over the top of the hedges and wisteria at the surrounding buildings. The one directly opposite of us is so far away, I can barely see it. The rest are evenly spaced to form a perfect circle around the Court.