by Bob Dattolo
The picture on the pamphlet stared at me. “So…what do I need to do now?”
Chapter 5
Three hours later, I was back in my little room looking at the small pile of paperwork Director Fitzsimmons gave me. Thank God I didn’t have to take notes on what she told me, because I never would have kept up with her delivery. Almost everything she said was in the paperwork, which is good. Very good.
It’s just that it’s so very bizarre. As a minor, I can’t be in charge of myself, but she mentioned something about emancipation, which I’d never heard of. Basically, it would mean that I’m legally an adult and don’t have parents. The fun thing there is that she can’t push that through on her own, so she has to reach out to others for assistance. A judge, I think? I sort of lost it at that point since the rest of it is weirder.
Somehow, and for whatever reason, they froze my parents bank accounts and have given me that money. I don’t know how much it is, but it sounds like a lot. On top of that, since I’m a minor with no parents, the government is also giving me some money as well. That part is probably better, since I can’t use the money from my parents until I’m emancipated or 18, whichever comes first.
I don’t have any adults to watch out for me, so the school is going to be granted custody of me, although that part isn’t strange. All of the kids there are technically in the custody of the school since they live there. It’s also a little old-school, no pun intended, since they can use corporal punishment if they want. The director made it sound like it’s not used often at all lately, which is good. Frankly, I can’t say that I’m willing to let someone hit me just because they say they can. Somehow, finding out that my supposedly loving parents had evil plans for me makes me less likely to trust someone else in charge of me. Go figure.
I have a lot more information to read through, but today after lunch, I’m supposed to be brought to a mall or a store or something like that and buy everything I’ll need to live at the school. She conveniently gave me a list, since I have no clue what that’ll take. The government is paying for that to get me prepared for school, so that’s good. I’d say it’s small favors, but it’s not really small at all.
Unfortunately for me, even though I asked her for more information on the school, she didn’t have a ton to give me other than some generic stuff and a recommendation to read the paperwork on it. I started glancing through it, then had to put it away. I don’t understand pieces of it, but I’m not sure it’s really important or not.
In a nutshell, it’s a boarding school for supernaturals. Sounds pretty simple, right? That’s pretty much true, but it’s really the specifics I’m worried about. I just don’t even know what to ask. I know they teach general high school courses. I know they don’t really have grades, per se, except that they do. The kids are grouped together in small batches of some sort and are arguably in the same grade, but people can jump ahead and graduate early without much of a problem. That sounds a little like home schooling to me.
She didn’t know the exact count, but there are somewhere between 30 and 60 students in the school. That seems small to me, but the pamphlet mentioned the price for admissions, and it’s high. Like crazy high. More money than I ever expected to have kinds of high. It seems that it’s an honor for the people that send their kids there, so even though it sounded like they were crappy parents to me, being accepted here is a big deal.
It makes me wonder how or why I’m being given a spot.
I guess I’m falling in under the scholarship piece? Or as a ward of the government? No real clue, and she didn’t elaborate when I asked her.
She didn’t have much information on where I’d be living, either, which I’m rather sad about. At our compound we had to sleep three to a room as of when I left, although we were four when James and Donna were there. I’ve never had my own room, but the idea of living with a stranger is scary as hell to me. Pretty much literally. I don’t know what to expect or how to act or…anything, really. Everything I know about roommates is from the various shows I’ve watched and things my parents allowed us to read. Modern entertainment tells me either we’ll be enemies at first sight or bosom buddies. I’d love a friend, since I’ve never had one, but really, what are the chances? I’m some sort of mystery supernatural thingy, while they’re going to be…whatever they are.
That’s another thing. Not only doesn’t she know the count of students, but she also doesn’t know what they’ll be. I could be rooming with a vampire. With a shifter. Even with a fey. Although that doesn’t seem likely. Rasphael let me know that she wasn’t aware of any fey students in the school, although it’s happened in the past. I guess that’s good? Or not? I can’t even judge it correctly. The director made it sound like there hadn’t ever been any, so I’m rather confused.
Flipping through the paperwork gave me information on my bank account where the government money will be deposited, the account that will store my parents’ money, and various other things that I’ll need. I settled on the little list until someone knocked at my door. Time for lunch and shopping.
I dropped the last of the bags onto the bed in my room and looked at everything. It’s a lot of stuff. Far more than I’ve ever owned at one point. That doesn’t even count the things that I’ve never owned before, such as a cell phone and a computer. Why I need a cell phone is beyond me, but it was a requirement that the director gave to me. The FBI will be coordinating payment for the bill each month, so that doesn’t come from my money. Hooray for being a homeless almost-orphan?
I knew everything fit me because the agent they assigned to go shopping with me, Agent Sarah Lang, required me to try everything on before buying it. I set about removing all of the tags and stickers and folding it all and putting it into the suitcases and bags that she had me pick up.
Even though it’s more clothes than I’ve ever owned before, it didn’t take me long to get everything put away. I only had to stop to cry twice, which I wasn’t expecting.
I would have bet at least four times.
Why?
It’s a mix of things, really. There’s sadness that my family is basically gone, but that’s still tempered by the fact that I’d said goodbye to them already before trying to kill myself. It’s really beyond that. My life simply isn’t what I thought it was. At all. I’m not a normal girl. I’m a supernatural and we don’t even know what I am! How freaking scary is that? Pretty darn, if you ask me. I’m trying not to assume that I’m going to hell, but 16 years of teachings don’t go away in a day.
On top of being a strange supernatural, I’m pretty much alone. I’ve always had family around me. Granted, not loving family, but it’s still someone. People. Bodies. Walking talking things to make me feel as if I’m not some sort of alone freak. Sure, there will be people at the school. I guess. But they’re strangers. Granted, I may get to know them so that they’re not strangers, but until I do, they will be.
I can’t forget the simple unknown of all of this. Agent Lang seemed worried that my parents may somehow hunt for me, although I can’t imagine that they would. Director Fitzsimmons was pretty confident that they would have known I was dead based on the remnants of the spells they found. That’s good, I think. Better than being found by the murderers that pretended to pseudo-love me for my entire life. If I can call how they treated me and raised me love.
I’m not really sure I can.
It’s a sad testament to everything I grew up with that I’ve felt more love today from Thorne, Fitzsimmons, and Lang than from my parents over the past…wow, yeah, almost since ever. Even the short conversations I had with Rasphael were filled with more love and honest caring than what I got from my parents.
That’s resoundingly sad if you ask me
You didn’t, but I’ll say it anyway.
That still leaves me with my tears. Everything is changing for me. Possibly for the better. That’s my hope and that seems to be where things are headed, but there’s still the niggling worry that people are going to try t
o kill me or hurt me as I was told. Agent Lang warned me about that a few times. She recommended that I hide as much as I can for as long as I can so that by the time people figure things out, I’m too powerful for the average person to attack.
That doesn’t sound like a great recommendation to me. Or, not one that I’d get from law enforcement. It turns out supernatural law enforcement is slightly different from norm enforcement. Supernaturals are given more latitude in how they deal with others of the same community. That’s how shifters are allowed to challenge for dominance. Or vampires. Or even mage families having wars. No one wants to limit the supernatural community from living how they want to. As a group, they’re too powerful to mess with that way, so they get to police themselves. The FBI and the various supernatural cops and groups don’t really get involved much unless they’re breaking the community rules or getting involved with norms.
Yay? That means, to an extent, that if a mage finds out what I am and goes after me to kill me, the FBI may not be able to stop them. It’s a gray area since I’m only 16, so that might help me. I simply have to hope and pray that nothing happens before I get an idea of what I can do.
Bags packed, I took in everything again and reviewed the list, making sure everything was purchased and packed.
Checks. Lots of checks.
So now it’s a waiting game. Some sleep, some breakfast, then a long drive from this building near DC to southwestern PA and Lledrith Academy. What will I find there? Will I fit in? Will I be terrified?
So many questions ran around and around without answers that it became exhausting and I eventually faded into sleep. The last thing I remember seeing is my face on the screen of my phone as I stared into my freakish eyes. They didn’t have answers for me, either.
Breakfast passed in a blur of mountains of food, my appetite not slowing down even a little bit. I had hoped for Special Agent Thorne or Agent Lang to drive me to the school, but they were both called away, leaving me with a nameless agent that didn’t seem prone to talking with semi-orphaned 16-year-old girls. I was just a passenger to him, and he acted like it, directing me to the back seat like I was too diseased to sit next to him up front. At least he took my bags, so I guess he doesn’t hate me? Maybe it’s just a protocol thing and not something personal. I can hope.
The ride out of DC took just about as long as Agent Lang indicated it might. Having never been outside of my compound, my only familiarity with the area is from television. It never presented traffic in the area as good in any way, shape, or form, and I have to say that I hate it. If it’s always like this, I have no idea why people don’t move away. Far away. This is a slice of hell, and I’ve only been out in it twice so far. Or, I guess three times if you count going out to go shopping and then heading back. In those cases, though, we weren’t hitting any highways, so it just isn’t the same. Why we had to leave during rush hour in the morning is beyond me, but here we are at 8:30 wending our way through a torrent of cars, trying to head out west towards Pennsylvania.
Is it childish of me that I used my phone to track us? Maybe it is, but it’s my first phone and it’s too cool. Agent Lang told me some things about it and I played a bit this morning, although that faded into the background as my brain went haywire, so I don’t really recall what I did. This, though, following the car on the highways? This is kinda cool.
Now, ask me why the government is paying for my phone, and I’ll just shrug. Yet another thing that doesn’t quite make sense to me. Why do they care so much about one girl? Why wouldn’t they just shove me into the system and not care about me? That’s not normal at all. Granted, Rasphael probably set things in motion or at least kept it moving, so there’s that. Maybe they don’t want whatever I am to be roaming free without being able to track me?
Huh…
“Excuse me?”
The agent looked into the rearview mirror briefly. “Yes, Ms. Driscoll?”
“If I ask you a question, will you answer it honestly?”
His smile was fleeting. “I believe so?”
“Okay, so maybe not, then.” I tapped the truck door as I thought about possible questions. “I don’t get why the FBI is doing all of this for me, so can you tell me how my phone and laptop are bugged? I’m thinking my clothes can’t be bugged quite as easily.”
His smile got bigger when he flashed it, but it was gone again. “Director Fitzsimmons owes Rasphael lunch. Rasphael bet that you would ask something to that effect within the first 10 miles.”
My laugh was short. “So then they are bugged?”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. “They are. They can be used to track location, but that’s common. The NSA already monitors calls and e-mail, so we’re piggybacking on that. That part is somewhat standard as well, although we’ll be actively monitoring you. So don’t sext anyone unless you don’t care about being seen by someone in the FBI.”
Blood rushed to my face. “I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”
He laughed outright. “That’s what everyone says, but then it happens. Just know that the people monitoring have seen and heard it all, so nothing shocks them. Plus, they’re usually supernaturals, and we don’t care about skin in the slightest.”
I put that out of my mind. “Why would the FBI be monitoring me?”
“You’re an unknown, Ms. Driscoll. Plus, when the fey warn us about something, we pay attention. Beyond that, you’re in danger. If your parents find that you’re alive, they may come for you. We also have it on good authority that other mages may act against you, although we aren’t quite certain why yet. Or at least no one has told me.”
“So…I just have to put up with being monitored? What if I throw out the phone and laptop?”
“You can do that, although I wouldn’t advise it, since the taps will just be moved to the new ones. Honestly, you should just put it out of your mind. It happens to a lot of us and you have to deal with it. Plus, you’re going to be away at school, so it’s not like you won’t be monitored there anyway. This is just hidden better. Or, not hidden at all, I guess.”
“Okay, I should just put up with it and let it happen? Is that what you’d do?”
He laughed again. “I’m far older than I look, so I’m used to the idea of people watching me. Plus, we’re always monitored as agents in case we decided to act against the bureau or the government. I’m sure someone is listening to us right now. Given that, does it really matter? You just need to get over the idea that things that you think are private are private. Shifters and vampires and fey can hear a pin drop three rooms away in some cases, so even being behind closed doors isn’t enough. Shifters can tell what you ate for breakfast in many cases, even if it’s dinner time. You were brought up a norm, so you don’t really know what the other supernaturals are capable of. None of that even takes into account spells that could be used to listen to you or watch you. That’s one thing I recommend learning to ward for. That’ll give you some peace of mind.”
Is it me, or is it shocking that he answered my questions about being bugged? “Did they really have a bet about me asking the question?”
His eyes lit up with his brief smile this time. “They did.”
“What else did they bet about?”
His waggling finger made me snicker. “Ahh, that’d be cheating, and you don’t want me to get in trouble with either of them, do you?”
My mind flashed back through getting in the car with him and the tingles across my body that I tried to ignore. I’m thinking he’s far stronger than he seems to be, but I’m not going to question him on it. I’m so new at this that I’m barely out of my package.
“Thank you for answering me. I appreciate the honesty.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Driscoll. We have about two hours of driving once everything breaks up, so you might want to sit back and relax. Barring unexpected delays, you should be at the school before 11.”
I debated answering him, then skipped it, settling back into the comfy seat as I watched t
he traffic slowly slide by. My life has taken a decidedly strange turn and we’re now on roads that I never even thought to be on. No pun intended since I’m in a car. It’s hard to go from being a recluse, or close to it, to being out in the world. Thank God I have…had a lot of brothers and sisters, because otherwise I’d have no idea how to react around people. Not that I have a great idea how to do it, but I’m not a complete newcomer to other people.
It’s just the other stuff that I don’t have firsthand knowledge of. Like shopping. Or keeping a checkbook. Or being in a car. Or being a normal human. My parents weren’t big on teaching us things that weren’t in our curriculum. Frankly, I’m not really sure how or why they taught us anything at all. When you’re planning on killing your children, why teach them anything?
It’s just another layer of confusion for me. Frankly, I’m hoping to never have that one answered, because if it gets answered, it means someone asked my parents about it. And no, that doesn’t mean I want them to get away. Far from it. I want them to go to jail or be killed. Preference for being killed.
Is that sentiment shocking? It shouldn’t be. They planned to kill me. They did kill my eight older siblings and then my six younger ones along with 31 federal agents. They need to die before they hurt anyone else. As restricted as my life has been, we had a mostly practical upbringing. With me being the oldest for the past year, I’ve had to take on the mantle of slaughterer for our animals, so death isn’t unknown to me.
Killing the animals didn’t bother me. My parents were clear that they weren’t pets. We were to take care of them, but they weren’t pets to be loved and coddled.
Sort of like us kids, now that I look back on things. We were given enough to survive and grow, but not enough to flourish. Certainly no love. At least we got gifts for birthdays and Christmas, just not a lot of them. They usually gave us clothes that we needed and not a lot of that. Except for their rules about being naked, I’m pretty sure they would have had us just run around that way. No idea why they didn’t.