by G. P. Ching
“As you can see, Revelations is a state-of-the-art facility.” The picture he pointed to looked like it belonged on an Ivy League campus. No barbed wire fences here. Red brick, ivy-covered walls, well-groomed gardens. The glossy pages resembled an advertisement for a spa.
“Where is your school, Mr. … Er…” Dad rubbed his palms together, unusually rattled by the visitor.
“Wulfrid Ravenguard, admissions counselor.” He cleared his throat. “Revelations calls a small island in the Atlantic home, off the coast of Nova Scotia. It’s called Veil Island. It’s fairly close to Oak Island.”
His father raised a finger. “The one with the pirate treasure? Money Pit Island, they call it, right?”
“That’s the one. Still a mystery after all these years.” The old man grinned.
Finn’s dad crossed his arms. “The island is Canadian?”
Mr. Ravenguard tipped his head to one side. “Privately owned. Finn won’t need a passport. Our private buses and ferries provide all transportation to and from the island.”
“So, it’s a boarding school?” Finn asked. “I couldn’t come home on nights and weekends.”
“Ah… You’re comparing it to your local Lakeview Alternative School.” Ravenguard rubbed his chin. “But there is one thing about our school that is quite different from your Lakeview.”
“And that is?” Finn’s father asked.
“Our results.” Ravenguard threaded his fingers together. “Revelations Institute uses modern teaching techniques to instill and restore responsibility, discipline, and confidence in troubled teens. We borrow heavily from classic circus, modern dance, and theater education programs to provide a rehabilitation experience available nowhere else. The payoff is a one hundred percent success rate. Everyone who attends our program experiences a level of achievement postgraduation beyond their wildest expectations.”
“Surely it can’t be a hundred percent. Nothing is a hundred percent. You must have some kids who never get with the program,” Dad scoffed.
Ravenguard shook his head. “Actually, our success rate is perfect. Even the darkest delinquents respond to our methods. When Finn leaves Revelations, he will be a model citizen.”
Model citizen. Finn’s mind flashed back to the fire in the school. The stranger had described himself as a model citizen defending his community. A coincidence for sure, but the memory unsettled Finn.
“Finn? Finn?” His father shook his arm. “Are you all right? You’re pale as a ghost.”
“Fine. It’s just a long way away,” he lied. No use trying to explain how the mimicked words affected him. His father believed the stranger in the school was a lie, a cover-up for Vox.
Mr. Ravenguard adjusted the brochure in front of Finn. “It is true, you will not be permitted to leave nights or weekends. However, unlike Lakeview, you can finish the program in as little as one year. In some exceptional cases, as little as a semester.”
Finn shook his head. “That can’t be right. I’m a sophomore. I can’t graduate in a semester.”
“No, you can’t graduate high school, but you might graduate our program.”
Dad lifted a hand. “Are you saying there is a possibility of completing his sentence in one semester at your school?”
“It is not unheard of, Mr. Wager.”
“Is that legal?”
The man reached into his bag and retrieved a roll of parchment bound with a string. He untied the string and flattened the scroll on the table.
“This is a legal document, an agreement between the Revelations Institute and the state. It gives Revelations the last word on a pupil’s rehabilitation.”
His father frowned. “Why is it on this… papyrus?”
“Marketing materials,” Ravenguard said. “You are welcome to confirm the details with Judge Warren.”
Finn’s father extended a finger in Ravenguard’s direction. “Before I confirm anything, I need to know more about what you do to these kids. Circus techniques? It sounds dangerous.”
Ravenguard took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair where the shadow of the dining room curtain fell across his face. “Rehabilitation requires change, Mr. Wager. Your son won’t be coddled. However, you can take solace in the fact that we haven’t lost a student yet. Haven’t had so much as a serious injury.”
“But—”
“How much will it cost?” Finn asked, cutting off his father’s next question.
His father inhaled through his teeth. “That’s not a factor, Finn—”
“It’s free,” Mr. Ravenguard said quickly.
“What?” His father dismissed the comment with a wave of his hand. “That can’t be right. I thought you said it was a private school.”
“We teach performance,” Ravenguard said, spreading his hands. “We put on a show at the end of every semester. A popular, exclusive, award-winning show. Patrons pay thousands per seat. Along with donations from our benefactors and alumni, the show earns us everything we need. Besides, Revelations’ owner is a spiritual person who wants nothing more than to guide young people to success. Profit is not a primary motivation.”
Finn nudged the brochure closer and thumbed through the glossy photographs. The standard dorm room looked like something from a five-star hotel. Two full-sized beds with plush comforters. A Persian carpet. A maple end table with a gilded bedside lamp. When he flipped the page, a black-and-white photograph of a girl in a beaded leotard smiled back at him as she walked a high wire with a long bar in her hands. The caption read, “Students at Revelations Institute lead well-balanced lives.”
“It’s coed?” Finn asked, staring at the girl.
“Oh, yes. Ms. D believes students thrive in diverse groups.”
“Who’s Ms. D?”
“Our headmistress, Victoria Duvall.”
Finn’s dad squirmed in his seat, glancing at his son and down at the glossy brochure. Eventually, he gave in to his curiosity and picked up the booklet to inspect each page. “We’re supposed to give Judge Warren a decision by this afternoon.”
Mr. Ravenguard adjusted his glasses on his nose and folded his hands again. “I’m afraid our offer of admission will not last that long. You see, spots at Revelations fill quickly. I can only hold the space for the hour.”
“An hour?” My father’s jaw dropped. “This is a life-changing decision.”
A small, sharp laugh escaped Ravenguard’s tight lips, then morphed into a cough that he covered with a closed fist. “Please excuse me. Something in my throat.”
“Can I get you some water?”
“No, thank you. You may be interested to know, Mr. Wager, that Revelations has a trial period. If Finn gets to the island and feels the institute is a poor fit, he has a full week to communicate that to you. At that time, you can choose to have him transferred to Lakeview. We only want what’s best for everyone involved.”
Dad stood. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I’d like to make a quick call to Judge Warren.”
“Do you want me to come?” Finn asked.
“Not this time, Finn. I want to talk to Judge Warren alone first. I’ll call you back to discuss once I’m done.”
“Okay.”
He left the dining room and disappeared in the direction of his office. Finn drummed his fingers lightly on the table. Revelations seemed too good to be true. There had to be a trick to it. If he pulled the right thread, would the entire sweater unravel?
“Can I ask you something?” Finn thumbed the corner of the brochure nervously.
“Of course.”
“Will you be offering admission to Mike Carson or Jayden Parker?”
“Jayden is on my list to visit next. Michael, however, is not. He didn’t meet our admissions requirements.”
Finn rubbed the tips of his fingers on the table. “This is a scam. Mike gets straight A’s and is a two-sport starter. No way would you guys choose me over him.”
Ravenguard looked appalled. “The criteria for success at Revelations isn’t the
same as that of traditional schools. You, Finn, are the mastermind behind Deviant Joe, are you not?”
He swore under his breath. “Yes.”
“Such a task must have required leadership skills, organization, technical aptitude.”
“Maybe.”
“Your friend Michael is very good at following directions, but Revelations is more interested in a different type of intelligence.” The man tipped his head.
Finn dug at something under his thumbnail.
Ravenguard adjusted his glasses, analyzing Finn. “This Michael, he’s a good friend of yours?”
Finn nodded. Mike was his best friend. He couldn’t bear to think of Mike at Lakeview, or worse, in juvie. Not while he was in the lap of luxury at Revelations.
“A better friend than Jayden?” Ravenguard asked softly.
Finn furrowed his brow. What kind of a question was that? “I’ve known Mike longer.”
“I see. Suppose I told you that, should you enroll and promise to work exceptionally hard, the boy could come too?” Ravenguard flashed a wolfish, yellow grin.
Finn swallowed. “I’d like that.”
Ravenguard’s smile widened, and he removed one white glove before extending his hand. “Very well. Do we have a deal?”
Slowly, Finn reached out to shake Ravenguard’s hand. The man’s nails were exceptionally long and filed to a point. They dug into the meat of his palm as the admissions counselor pumped his arm.
“Ouch!” Finn recoiled, blood bubbling through the resulting scratches.
Ravenguard slipped his glove back on. “Pardon me. I don’t know my own grip.”
It struck Finn again how oddly Ravenguard was dressed, his unusual height, the strange way he’d shown up out of nowhere. He narrowed his eyes, studying the gold buttons on the man’s red coat. There was some sort of symbol embossed on them, like an ornate X. “Is that the school uniform?” Finn asked.
“No.” Ravenguard straightened in his seat, his face impassive. “Your uniform will be provided upon your arrival.” He did not go into further details to explain his manner of dress.
“Finn, can you come in here?” his father called from the hall.
“Excuse me.” Finn slipped around the table and hurried to his father’s office. His dad closed the door before speaking.
“Everything checked out with Judge Warren. This is a legitimate option, Finn. What do you think?”
“Sounds better than Lakeview.”
“I’m not thrilled with the location,” his father said. “The brochure says I’m not allowed to see you until the end of the semester, and even then, I have to come to you. You won’t be able to leave the island until you’ve graduated the program.”
“If I work hard, I could be done by summer. I could be reenrolled in Beaverton High School by next fall.”
“Judge Warren confirmed that as well. He said he hadn’t discussed the option because the school is by invitation only.” His dad rubbed a thumb across his chin. “I don’t know, Finn. My bullshit meter is running high on this one. What if this is like a military-type school? Do you think you could handle that?”
Finn shifted from foot to foot. He wasn’t military material. No way. He got winded carrying the groceries in from the car. But he couldn’t face two and a half years at Lakeview. “I want to go. I’ll work hard. You heard what he said: if Revelations isn’t a good fit, I can ask to transfer. It’s the obvious choice.”
“I think it’s a practical option. I’m just not sure it’s the best option for you.” The bags under his father’s eyes seemed to darken. “You don’t have to do this. Lakeview may take longer, but…” He shook his head. “Circus training techniques? It’s very odd, and this is an awfully hasty decision they’re forcing on us.”
Finn rested a hand on his father’s arm. “It’s only a school, not outer space. It’s temporary. I can transfer. If it’s bad, I’ll come home.”
“I wish things were that simple.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, when you’re older, you will realize that sometimes the bad things that happen to us don’t leave us when they are over. Sometimes they change us forever. Even a short time in the wrong place can be life altering, Finn. I’ll go along with whatever you decide, but don’t believe for a second you have nothing to lose.”
Finn paused. He had to try this. Ravenguard was right. He was the leader. He’d gotten Mike and Jay into this; now he needed to get them out. “I want to go. I want to try Revelations. I think in the long run this will be better for me.”
With a nod of resignation, his father smoothed the fabric of his perfectly ironed dress shirt. “Okay. Let’s tell Ravenguard.”
The two returned to the dining room where Mr. Ravenguard was standing at the window, his hands clasped behind the tails of his red riding jacket. When he turned toward them, the light reduced him to a slender, featureless silhouette. “Have you come to a decision?”
“I’ve decided to attend Revelations,” Finn said firmly. He’d stopped himself from saying “try Revelations.” If he was going to do this and succeed in the shortest amount of time, he had to believe in himself. He would survive.
Ravenguard bowed at the waist. “I am honored. Now, just one more formality.”
He flipped back the leather fold on his bag and retrieved another scroll, this one sealed with burgundy-colored wax pressed into the same symbol as on Ravenguard’s buttons. The admissions counselor cracked the seal and unrolled the parchment.
“Fancy.” Finn’s father reached for the pen he kept in his front shirt pocket.
“Please, Mr. Wager, use mine. The ink is in the school’s colors. We like to save the contracts as mementos of the day the student decided to change for the better.” Ravenguard handed him a fountain pen, the old-fashioned kind.
Finn’s father slid the scroll closer and like a good lawyer, actually read every word. “Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said the owner of Revelations was a spiritual man. What’s this about Finn’s soul?”
“Think of it as an oath. The students must commit mind, body, and soul.” Ravenguard shrugged. “It’s part of our method.”
The pen lowered to the second line and in illegible cursive, James Wager scrawled his signature in muted burgundy ink.
Ravenguard took the pen and gave it a hard shake. “Excuse me for asking, but for legal reasons, is there a biological mother? Revelations must have a release from both parents.”
“His mother passed away.”
Ravenguard frowned. “I am sorry for your loss.”
“It was a long time ago. Finn was only a baby.”
“Regardless, the loss of wife and mother is a burden at any age.” He offered the scroll and pen to Finn.
Finn’s hand trembled as he gripped the gold implement and lowered it to the parchment. He wanted this. Revelations was his best option. The ruby ink melded with the parchment and his name glided and looped on the line.
Ravenguard clapped his hands and laughed. “Very good! This is only the beginning. Get ready, my boy. There’s no time to lose. The bus will pick you up tomorrow at noon.”
The man rolled up the parchment and rose from his chair to leave.
“Wait,” his dad said. “Do you have a card or something? What if we need to reach you or have questions? What should he pack?”
Ravenguard plunged one gloved hand into his bag and retrieved a small rectangle of paper, handing it to Finn’s father. “Pack what he’d normally wear for a long weekend. He’ll be issued a uniform and anything else he might need during his stay with us.” He shook Finn’s hand and then his father’s. “Pardon me, but I must go. There are others deserving of my time today.” With long strides, Ravenguard showed himself out.
Finn and his dad drifted after him, his father gripping the man’s card as if an explanation for this strange twist of fate was written on the back. Ravenguard slipped out the door and closed it behind him.
“Oh, wait!” Finn’s father called. �
��I forgot to ask about Finn’s medication.” When Ravenguard didn’t respond, his father ran after him muttering, “I better catch him.” He gave a small huff when he opened the door. “What in the name of…?”
Finn surveyed the circle drive around the fountain and the long tree-lined stretch of pavement that led away from Wager Manor. Not a hint remained of the visitor or his vehicle.
Mr. Ravenguard had vanished.
6
Training Day
It’s freezing out here!” Hope hugged her puffy coat tighter around her and rubbed her mittens together. There were a few trees in her parents’ expansive yard, but they provided little shelter from the winter wind.
“Show me you remember what I’ve taught you and this won’t take long,” Gabriel said. He selected an apple from the basket next to him.
Reluctantly, Hope removed her mittens and pulled the triquetra from her neck. She pressed the looping silver pendant into her right palm and focused her energy on the warm spot that blossomed over her heart. Light arced around her fist, forming a razor-sharp disc of white energy. She readied herself, knees soft, mind quiet, and released a long, steadying breath.
“I’m not going to make this easy,” the angel said.
“I’d be disappointed if you did.”
He threw the first apple. It soared close enough for her to slice it in half with a simple jab of her fist, but that wasn’t the end. The two halves morphed into flying black spheres the size of sparrows. She tossed the triquetra, slicing one on the way out and the other as her weapon boomeranged into her opposite hand. Now there were four spheres that buzzed around her like large, angry flies.
“You’ll have to mean it or this is going to get messy.” Gabriel tossed another apple.
Hope flipped backward, catching three in a rotation of her arm, then tossed the disc to cut through the new apple before missing the last tiny segment. The pieces multiplied again.
“This isn’t fair. I do mean it. You’re keeping my power from working.”