The Academie (20 page)

I nodded and tried to hold the tears
back from my own eyes. She looked away. “I’ll keep you updated, if
I hear anything soon….” She sighed audibly and looked at me again.
“I wish we could take you with us.”

“
Me too.” My voice
cracked.

Shortly after, I grabbed up my things
and headed to the car with Anna.

On the way home, my throat ached so
bad with grief it constricted my vocal chords, making everything
come out strained and strange. My mind no longer raced as it had on
the trip down. Now it was blank—everything burned away by the shock
and pain of loss. But I wasn’t the only one. So mostly, we sat in
silence.

When we got to my house, Anna got out,
went to the door with me to thank my parents, and then gave me a
close, comforting mom hug. “It’s going to be okay honey,” she said.
I could hear Bryan’s voice in hers.

“
I…” I wanted to say that
I would keep in touch; that I wanted to see her—and all of
them—again soon, but I how could I? I wasn’t going to be able to
see or talk to any of them again for a very, very long time. For
all I knew, by then they would be long gone to Canada.

They could forget all about
me.

27.
the rock

The first few weeks at The Academie
were tough, but everything was so new—and crazy with the loss of
Shara— that it kept me distracted from the truth: I wasn’t going
home.

My life now seemed divided into two
parts, marked by events that happened almost simultaneously: the
beginning of The Academie, and meeting Bryan. And I would think
about my life in these terms: before Academie/before Bryan, and
now.

But now The Academie had become my
life and everything I experienced before it appeared as unreal as a
dream. Most of the time, I pushed the memories of my old life from
my mind—why dwell on what you can’t have? But sometimes, I’d let
myself lay in bed at night, replaying my conversations with
Bryan—not even sure if they were really real anymore.

“
I love you
Allie…

“
We’ll find a way out of
this, I promise…”

And a tiny spark of hope would ignite
in me again.

I became a moody, unpredictable
version of myself. One day I’d light up with the assurance that all
would be okay—that Bryan was out there somewhere and he, Anna, and
James were working on a way to get us out of here. One these days
I’d bounce around, talking to everyone, smiling, laughing. Other
days I was convinced the government would extend the enrollment age
indefinitely, and I would spend all my days here—the everlasting
Academie. Those days I would close up, going deep inside myself,
looking out through unseeing eyes, talking to no one, looking at no
one, seeing nothing.

I wondered how anyone could keep
up.

For the most part, Matt and I ignored
each other. But one day he had the audacity to approach me just to
say that the instructors were having a meeting to discuss whether
he should be moved to another facility where he could be offered
challenges to meet his intelligence. That’s when I totally lost
it.

I felt so useless. Unwanted.
Discarded. Alone.

That’s when another realization hit
me: whatever relationship I might have had with Bryan, was
over.

It felt as though a large rock had
come to sit upon my chest.

And as autumn faded into winter, I
carried that rock with me wherever I went.

28.
the longest winter

The holidays came and went without
fanfare. We had a Halloween party the weekend before the holiday,
and the cafeteria served up their version of a traditional
Thanksgiving. A few weeks later, for Christmas, we were given new
uniforms, school supplies, and toiletries. Just what I
wanted.

Before The Academie, I’d hated the
monotony of routine. But as my sadness deepened, I found comfort in
The Academie schedule. It told me what to do when. I listened
obediently. Unthinking. Unfeeling. Uncaring. Just walking through
the paces, day after day. It offered a predictability I had never
found in the outside world.

I pushed my new friends
away. I still sat with them at lunch and walked with Stevie to
class, but I didn’t talk much.
Better not
to get attached.
They stopped asking if I
was alright.

The days became a blur. Wandering
halls. Staring at teachers as they spoke, but never hearing. It was
like a TV with the sound muted. I’d look at them and they would see
me making eye contact and I’m sure they thought I was the best
student in the world. But I was somewhere else, not even
daydreaming anymore—just floating out there somewhere. Spending my
days. Numb.

It took me off guard when someone
called to me in the hall.

“
Hey zombie
girl!”

The voice came from behind me, but it
was distant in my head. Everything was. I kept walking. Nothing
mattered. I woke up to these gray walls after a beautiful dream of
Bryan. I was there with him, and he held me again, kissed me gently
on the forehead, and then that damn alarm went off and blasted the
image from my head.

“
Hey!” The voice was there
again. Something caught my arm.

I turned but didn’t look up. Maybe it
will go away.

“
Are you…okay?”

“
Huh?” It wasn’t
leaving.

“
I just wondered if you
were okay, that’s all.” I finally looked up and saw gray-blue eyes
staring back.

“
I’m fine. Thanks.” I
looked away. I couldn’t remember how to smile—to pretend it was
true so he’d stop asking and let me be.

“
It’s just that you used
to speak up in class. At the beginning of the semester, you were
bubbly and talkative and had plenty to add to the conversation. You
were…I don’t know, different.”

I glanced back up. He stood almost a
foot taller than me. He might be in my History class, but I
couldn’t be sure. I didn’t see much of anything anymore.

He continued on uncomfortably. “You
never talk in class anymore, and never seem to talk to anyone for
that matter.” He paused, uncertain. “I just wanted to know if
you’re okay.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d tried
to disappear and thought I had succeeded. But here was this guy I’d
never even talked to, asking if I was okay. I didn’t know what to
make of it.

“
Do you want to
talk?”

I shook my head.

“
You’re going to be
okay?”

I nodded.

“
Fair enough. I’ll see you
around then, okay?” He was smiling. At me.

“
K,” I answered, still a
little shell-shocked.

He turned to leave and then abruptly
turned back around. “I’m Cayden, by the way.”

“
Allie,” I
returned.

“
I know.” He smiled again,
turned, and headed down the hall the other way.

My brief interaction with Cayden left
me feeling strange, and a tiny bit better for a while.

But winter dragged on, pulling me down
with it. I couldn’t remember another quite like it, though I
imagined it wasn’t unique.

In my memories, we’d have light
snowfalls and then one or two massive snow storms that would cover
the town in several feet of white stuff, causing the schools to
close and the children to celebrate. In between there would be
spells of warmness where the grass would begin to poke through and
eventually most of the lawn, till there was just one small patch
left—usually in some corner where I remembered my father shoveling
and shoveling and creating a great pile that, as a child, tempted
me to dig in and build a fort. As it melted, it became a sad little
pile, reminding me of all the fun I had, or could have had, but was
over now. We’d have a couple of warm days and then the snow would
start to fall again, covering all the dirty residue left from
earlier winter weather, dressing everything in perfect white and
tempting children with the hope of new possibilities. This is what
I loved about snow: how it changed the world around me, making it
fresh and new, encouraging me to look at everything in life
differently.

But this winter was strange. The snow
came early and just kept coming. The sun rarely peeked its head,
and when it did, it seemed only for a matter of minutes. Once I
caught a glimpse of blue sky, but it quickly turned white again and
the snow resumed falling. The grass that in years past had mocked
me by poking its head out of my perfectly white and wonderful
world, never came to laugh at me this year, and I found myself
actually missing it.

Now and then even without the sun, the
temperature must have risen enough to set the snow to melting. But
unlike years past, I couldn’t really see the difference on the
ground. The only real sign of change was the snow that fell off the
cars outside and the long icicles that hung from the school roof
that grew day by day.

I began to look daily out the single
dorm window to check on one particular icicle. I had never seen one
quite like it: it must have been six inches across at the top, and
it dared to reach the ground. I wondered if it might actually touch
from roof to earth before the sun shone hot enough to break it
off.

It’s difficult to keep yourself happy
at times like this. I thought of people in warmer climates and how
they would be seeing the sun and taking walks outside. I supposed
some had beautiful fantasies about what it’d be like to live in a
snowy climate, just as I fantasized about living near palm trees.
They probably viewed the northern states as a winter wonderland
where everyone ice skates, skis, and sleds after school, where
people snowshoe to work. Sure, there were people doing these
things—except the snowshoeing—but they were the minority. Most of
us simply tried to survive. For the first month or so it might even
seem fun, since it gets you into the spirit of the holidays. But
then the holidays are over and it seems the snow should go as well.
But it doesn’t. Then the sadness starts to set in. Some say it’s
the lack of sun, but I always thought it was the isolation. You
begin to feel a prisoner in your own home and wonder if you might
ever get out again. You remember times of walking in sunshine or
lying at the beach, but these memories seem so far off, so distant,
and so impossible as you watch the snow falling steadily outside
your window.

Knowing I wouldn’t be leaving The
Academie for three more years did not help to lighten my mood.
Neither did the fact that, in all the time that had passed, no one
would tell me anything about what happened to Shara.

By mid-February, I became certain that
winter would continue as long as I remained at The
Academie.

And I was just as certain I’d go
mad.

29.
a place to hide

Naturally, The Academie did not
provide us with any kind of a coat, since they saw no need for us
to go outside in the wintertime. But for me the need for fresh air
became so overwhelming that a few times I tried to go out anyway—in
just my uniform. Despite the fact that I was shivering in minutes,
I wandered around the little bit of yard we had, alone, in the
silence of the winter, and I almost feel free. There was something
about defying everyone that always made me feel in control
again.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore.
One day, during the lunch hour, I snuck up to the dorm, piled on a
pair of sleep pants over my Academie pants, pulled on an extra
Academie shirt, and doubled up my socks. Then I draped my extra
pair of sleep pants over my head, tied the legs around my neck, and
put two pairs of socks over my hands. There was a time I’d have
been concerned about what people thought of me. But at this point,
I felt so trapped from the confines of The Academie and winter, I
didn’t care.

I stomped outside, never looking up to
see the reactions of those around me as I walked to the front door
to the school. I always expected an alarm to go off when I opened
the doors, but it never came. I supposed they had secret cameras
watching me. Besides, I could feel the eyes of enough students
following me as I made my way across the yard, it probably didn’t
matter. They would tell if I never reappeared.

I stomped through what appeared to be
a foot of snow as I made my way around the building. Normally,
schools would plow for weather like this. Apparently, The Academie
saw no need. That’s when it occurred to me: how did the faculty get
into the building this morning? The paths weren’t plowed now, and
they didn’t show the signs of having been plowed before—usually an
area that has been plowed will show a defined dip in the snow, even
after more snow has come to cover it over—and there were no such
spots to mark footprints from their having trudged through the
snow. That was odd. I always figured they came in through the
front, but apparently, they had a back entrance.