by Danielle
“Last one.”
Oliver's heart thudded loudly in his ears. He stared at the corndogs as an involuntary shiver crept slowly through his arms and legs. They rotated on their poles. Fat and oil bubbled and popped, coating the container with a thick grease.
"Your boy can't even get his food, got his hands all tied up."
"You know the rules, Jeb. Keep them tied up, especially this one." Oliver looked up sharply at this remark, his sudden movement garnering the attention of the officer and Jeb. The officer regarded him silently for a moment before walking over. His footsteps echoed on the grimy, tile floor of the convenience store as he approached.
"The corndogs?"
Oliver nodded, mum. The officer grabbed a plastic bag and cranked open the corn dog container. He speared two and walked back up to the counter. Oliver followed awkwardly behind him, wondering how he was going to eat the corn dog with no hands.
“Boy.”
Oliver stared at the gossip magazines near the front counter.
“I said, boy.” He turned to see the officer gesturing for him. The officer bent down and looked him right in the eye. Oliver could see his own reflection in his sunglasses, and he looked terrified.
“Now, I’m going to take these off so you can eat your dinner. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” Oliver looked sideways at Jeb, who eyed him suspiciously over the top of his Maxim.
When he felt the handcuffs unlock, Oliver rolled his wrists and sighed. The officer handed him his corndog and turned back to Jeb.
“Now, magazine isn’t as good as it used to be. I’ll tell you that.”
Oliver bit into the corndog, and despite the rubbery texture and burnt batter, it felt like a meal fit for the most precocious of kings. It wasn’t long before he felt the wooden stick beneath his tongue.
“You want to get your boy a magazine there, so he can have something to do? Idle hands are the devil’s playthings.” Jeb took a drag of his cigarette.
“A box for you?” The officer shook his head.
“I quit, but thanks. He’ll be at school soon enough.”
Oliver perked up. Was that it, then? He thought, heart speeding up quicker than what was probably healthy for a boy of his age. He was burning with questions, questions the officer knew the answers to.
What seemed like an hour later, the officer finally bid Jeb a goodnight, reattached Oliver’s cuffs and led him back to the van.
“Where will I sleep?” Oliver blurted out, increasingly aware of the deteriorating cushion beneath him. The officer said nothing, but turned around in his seat and smiled. Oliver lay down and curled up as much as he could. The cushion crackled beneath him. He clasped his hands together and closed his eyes, dreading the next day’s drive.
Chapter 4
All around him, green mountains rose to the sky. The van sped along, whipping the scene outside into a blurred, visual salad, but Oliver was able to catch the end of a sign that read: Welcome to Wynton, Massachusetts. The highway had long turned into a two lane road, and the cascading foothills into flat farm land. Tiny houses dotted the landscape before him, sitting far back from the road surrounded by an ocean of green land. The scene was peaceful, more peaceful than anything Oliver had ever encountered before in his life. He could imagine spending hours lying back on the grass, with his eyes trained towards the stars. This was a land of possibilities, far away from the strange realities that he had come to know. Oliver wasn't sure what he preferred, the fantasy of normalcy or the horror that was his reality.
The police officer had been quiet for some time, though occasionally Oliver thought he saw his head tilt ever so slightly towards the rear view mirror as if he were looking at him through his dark glasses. He drove on, his arms in the same 9-6 position they had been for the entire journey. Oliver wondered if the man was not a police officer at all, but rather an android of sorts charged with transporting children. But, to where? The calm green had hypnotized him, and Oliver realized that he forgot the most important thing of all---he had no idea where he was going. Panic flooded his senses in a sudden tidal wave, leaving Oliver confused.
"I want to call my mother." The words fell from his open mouth, as soon as he’d thought them up. The grass outside had taken on a sickly green tint, its presence causing near nausea for Oliver. The police officer tilted his head towards the rearview mirror, at which point Oliver was nearly certain that he was looking directly at him.
"That won't be possible." The officer's response was sharp and deliberate. Oliver felt his will power wilting under it.
"My mom put out an amber alert for me, I bet." His lip wobbled, and Oliver put his head down so the cop wouldn't see it.
The police officer made a noise that sounded strangely like a stifled laugh. "Boy, Amber alerts only go out when someone has been taken. You, you were given up willingly."
"My mother would never do that."
The officer whistled in response. "You know, that's the hardest part about this job. People never want to believe what's right there in front of them. The parents and the kids."
"I don't believe you." Oliver said.
"That's fine. You'll see for yourself soon enough." The officer's last word ended on such a tone that Oliver knew the conversation was over. He flexed his hands, which were throbbing from the handcuffs.
The van made a sharp turn and slowed down. Oliver pressed his face against the window in time enough to see the grass change from wild weeds to that of a carefully manicured lawn. A prim white sign sat in the middle of the lawn, surrounded by a bed of flowers. The Delafontaine School, it read. The van stalled for a minute before starting up a long driveway. At the edge of the driveway sat a large, brownstone building. The van pulled into the roundabout in the driveway, and as it shuddered to a halt, Oliver stared listlessly out of the window. The police officer hopped out of the van and disappeared into the building, leaving Oliver shaking. He wasn't sure whether or not he was shaking with rage, or fear. His eyes found the sign once more and noticed in small italics at the bottom that read Lux ex Tenebris.
Everything was so well manicured. If Oliver didn't know better, he might have suspected the place was a pleasant assisted living facility, but a dark whisper in his head reminded him that he knew better.
Several tense minutes later, a woman came strolling out of the front door. She wore a fresh suit, and her hair was tied back in a top knot. She reached the van and waited for the police officer to open the door. When he did, Oliver found himself face to face with her outstretched hand.
"Hello, Oliver. I'm Dean Tenbrook. Welcome to Delafontaine." Oliver stared at her hands for a moment, panic rising within him. Her smile, bright and practiced faltered and her eyes shifted down to Oliver's hands.
"Oh, I'm sorry. You're cuffed. We'll shake later. Let's show you around first. How was the drive? You know, I've always thought that was one of the most striking things about Delafontaine. Those green pastures…The only thing we need now are cows, I think. Delafontaine is very interested in starting environmentally friendly initiatives…." Dean Tenbrook spoke a mile a minute, and it was clear to Oliver that she wasn't looking for anything from him but listening.
Oliver stepped numbly from the van and followed Dean Tenbrook into the building. The front doors were grand and of cast iron. "These doors have been in the Delafontaine family for years!" Dean Tenbrook added as they swept through them. The doors banged shut behind him, echoing and final.
They stepped into the atrium, a high-ceilinged introduction to the building. A white diamond chandelier hung over Oliver's head, square in the center of the atrium. "Also been in the family for years." Dean Tenbrook remarked, her voice nearly gaining an octave.
The atrium floor of the entrance hall bore a smooth, glossy wood finish. The walls were a faint yellow and covered in portraits of past Deans.
“Feel free to look around. I need to speak with someone for a moment.” Dean Tenbrook smiled brightly before disappearing behind a door labeled
Admissions Office. Oliver walked slowly down the Hall of Deans, studying each portrait. He wondered how old each painting was, given that the style of clothing hadn’t seemed to change at all over the years. If Oliver didn't know any better, he would have thought they were all the same person. He peered closer at the litany of top knots and pressed suits.
“Oliver! Oliver!” Dean Tenbrook’s voice came ringing down the hallway, as breezy and light as the day outside. “Let’s continue with the tour. You’re going to love it here. Before we go, however, I’m going to have to ask you to give up any electronic devices you may have. Phones, game systems. Our students have access to a phone within the dorms, and this should be more than enough. If you have a watch, I’ll take that too. Guards, we can release this young man. There’s no need for that in his new home.”
A guard rushed forward, seemingly out of nowhere and undid Oliver’s handcuffs. Dean Tenbrook smiled and held out her hand. Oliver reached into his pocket and withdrew his phone. It had long since died, but having it had provided some comfort. He didn’t know exactly who he planned to call with it, but the option was there. He handed the phone to Dean Tenbrook at a glacial pace. Oliver then looked down at his wrist and to his own surprise, it was bare. He had forgotten that he’d slid it off in the cell, and he suddenly felt weirdly relieved.
Dean Tenbrook slipped the phone into her own jacket pocket. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Here at Delafontaine, we like for our students to focus on their work and on each other. Technology can cause so much interference, don’t you think?” Oliver nodded numbly, even though his disagreement could not have been stronger.
"Now, this is the main entrance. This, is Cathy." Dean Tenbrook pointed to a smiling receptionist who waved on cue. They took a left down a smaller hallway off of the grand hall. It boasted warm colors---the carpet was a fine, red shag and the walls were decorated with scenes from the American Revolution.
"That painting is one of Delafontaine's most prized possessions, you know." Dean Tenbrook mused. “Delafontaine is actually home to many pieces of priceless art. I’ve been advocating for an official art gallery for years!” She said, pointing to another painting on the wall. Oliver attempted to formulate a response, but it just got stuck in his throat along with years of other things he neglected to say.
Oliver fell into step besides Dean Tenbrook, as a rumble from outside shook the walls. “Summer storms. The best kind, I think. Sometimes, we all need a good cleansing.” Oliver walked for what felt like miles, the length perhaps exaggerated due to Dean Tenbrook’s mind numbing recollection of Delafontaine facts.
“Did you know that the Delafontaine School has been accepting students for 45 years?” Dean Tenbrook looked sideways at Oliver, who found himself nodding, if only to assure her that he was in fact listening. The effort was enough, and Dean Tenbrook continued to shower Oliver with facts and tidbits about Delafontaine.
They stepped outside, following a path along the well-manicured front lawn. The brisk New England air caressed Oliver’s face like a cold hand. “I would be lying if I said it doesn’t get much worse than this.” Oliver glanced sideways at Dean Tenbrook, holding his breath for the pitch he knew was coming. “Here at Delafontaine, we provide our students with top of the line winter jackets.” He exhaled softly, somewhat pleased at his own prediction abilities, though soured at being right in the first place. Oliver looked at the Delafontaine lawn, as pristine as could be. He couldn’t imagine that anyone had ever touched, let alone walked on it.
“….We also hold a number of activities out on the quad, mainly at the beginning and the end of the year.” Dean Tenbrook was saying, as Oliver tuned back in.
“For parents and students?” Oliver found himself desperately wanting his mother to see him, here. “Are there events for new students and parents to see the school, together?” He pressed, eyes locked on the dean.
Her smile faltered, though only briefly---a small cloud on an otherwise sunny day---and she pressed her lips together. “Many students here are independent, and prefer to stay that way. We like to say that our young men are resilient. Ah, here we are. You’re just in time for the annual Delafontaine Welcome Back Carnival. I hope we don’t get rained out!” Dean Tenbrook quickened her pace and rounded on the main quad.
Oliver stepped onto the quad behind the library and he felt his mouth drop open in surprise. Before him, there was a mini carnival. Everywhere he looked, Oliver saw carnival games. Dean Tenbrook moved through the crowd, and Oliver struggled to keep up. To his left, a boy wearing his Delafontaine jacket slung around his neck took a step back and then slammed his hammer down at Test Your Strength. The bell went up about mid-way before tumbling back down, and the carnival attendant shook his head before barking “Next!” The player walked away with his head down, disappointed.
“Every year, Delafontaine throws a Welcome Back Carnival for our students. It is important to us that our students have fun within proper settings.” Dean Tenbrook said, leading Oliver through the crowd. A group of boys huddled around the ring throwing station, leaning in as a boy wearing the Delafontaine jacket and a crisp pair of khakis leaned forward and threw the ring. The ring sailed past the bottle and the crowd erupted in a mixed chorus of “Aww man.” And “It was right there!”
Dean Tenbrook led Oliver past a funnel cake and cotton candy stand, to which his stomach growled audibly and angrily. “Go on, help yourself.” She said, smiling. Oliver didn’t need to hear that twice. He raced towards the stand and returned with a funnel cake in one hand and a cone of cotton candy in the other, uncertain of which one he should try first. He rejoined Dean Tenbrook on the other side of the floating ducks tent.
“Delafontaine prides itself on providing our students with the very best. We have a festival at the beginning and the end of each year to reward our students for their hard work in both academics and personal achievements. What do you think?” Oliver looked out on the quad and smiled. It wasn’t bad at all. In fact, he could get used to it.
“I like it.” Oliver said slowly.
Dean Tenbrook broke into a wide grin. “Excellent!” Now, I’m sure you’re hungry for some real food. Cotton candy is delicious, but it can’t take the place of a nice home cooked meal, now can it? Sadly, the dining hall is closed right now as it prepares for dinner. But let’s head in that direction, so you’ll have no trouble finding it this evening.” Dean Tenbrook set off at a brisk pace back across the main quad. When Oliver had caught up, Dean Tenbrook was still talking, as if she had not noticed that he had not been besides her the entire time.
“Now this, is the Dining Hall. You’ll spend many a meal here, eating with your peers. We believe in community dining here at Delafontaine. A supportive community is a great asset for struggling young men.” Dean Tenbrook remarked, cheerily, though her voice was an octave lower than usual.
“And what about that?” Oliver pointed to a small, plain building sitting square between the Dining Hall and the Main Building. Dean Tenbrook abruptly began walking again.
“As I was saying, the Dining Hall is the beginning of many long lasting friendships for our young men.”
“But, the building, over there.”
“Would you like to see if maybe the staff have some left overs? You must be famished. How long did it take you to get here?” Dean Tenbrook marched forward towards the wooden doors of the dining hall. Oliver followed, taking one last look at the nondescript building before stepping into the dining hall.
As he stepped inside, the arresting smells of bread, meat and pastries wafted towards him. The dining hall was large, with high ceilings, like the rest of the buildings. A small balcony ran around the top, where a few guards milled about. His stomach growled in response again, so loud and so definitively that Oliver felt it had developed a mind of its own. Dean Tenbrook disappeared behind the serving station and reemerged with a plate of steaming green beans and sliced turkey.
“Seems like they’ve got a few leftover. I hope you don’t mind?�
� Her smile was plastered across her face like that of a jack-o-lantern. As Oliver took the plate, he wondered if her smile was in fact carved onto her face. When he was finished eating, he bussed his tray and followed Dean Tenbrook from the dining hall.
"The gym is up next. I'm sure you've been wondering where. I bet you really like to get your exercise." Dean Tenbrook looked back at him, as he trailed listlessly behind her. The food had been his cherished oasis, but a strong, unpleasant feeling had risen in the place of his hunger, and Oliver wasn’t sure what could cure it. His lack of response elicited a frown, but she did not skip a beat.
"Ah, the gym!" From inside, basketballs thudded against the court, each thud reminding Oliver of his rapidly increasing heart rate. The hallway opened up wide to reveal a set of double doors. Dean Tenbrook threw the doors open in dramatic fashion. The gym was at least the size of a football field. Basketball goals framed each side, while polished black bleachers rose up on either side of the court. The group of boys within the gym turned to stare, their sudden lack of dribbling casting the gym into an eerie silence.
"Hi boys! We don't mean to interrupt. I'm just showing our new student around, Oliver Donovan. He'll be joining everyone later for dinner, once he's all cleaned up." The boys stared hollowly, not a single one attempting a wave or otherwise. Oliver's cheeks burned and he put his hand to his head for a quick salute. The boys nodded slowly in response, before promptly turning back to themselves.
"They like you already!" Dean Tenbrook piped up. Oliver felt the heat from his cheeks spread to his neck and beyond. He watched the boys play Horse, each lining up to shoot into the net. One boy shot and the ball flew clear over the basketball goal, then he languidly chased down the ball, which had rolled into a far corner of the gym.
He had to admit that it---the gym that is---was impressive. But the stare of the other boys made him uncomfortable, and he wasn’t sure why. He felt Dean Tenbrook studying his face, the corners of her lips turned up in a slight smile.