by C. L. Stone
“What does all that even mean?” Lake asked. “Family first? My family sucks.”
“It means your Academy family, or who you choose to let into your family,” the older girl said. She looked back at Mrs. Rose.
Mrs. Rose nodded in confirmation but I was the one with the question now. “How long have you known about them…um…I’m sorry, I forgot your name already.”
“Carla,” the girl said. “I’ve been on their radar for two years, but this is the first time I’ve been invited down.”
“But not everyone gets into the Academy,” Lake said. “I was told that.”
“That’s true,” Carla said. “You might not be a good fit. I mean, not you specifically but...”
“I know what you mean,” Lake said, although in a grumble.
Mrs. Rose signed and I spoke. “She wants you to keep going explaining the rules, or what you know of them,” I said. I wanted to know, too. I knew some but was happy to just interpret and learn from other people’s questions for now.
“Okay,” Carla said, handing the map off to her friend, who took the lead. “To talk about the first one, you need to know about the third one. Family first means when you’ve picked the family for you, you’re to be loyal to them and focus your energy on making their lives safe. Not easier, not try to do things for them. Simply put them in a stable position so they can better themselves, or that could mean they stay where they are and live their lives.
“This could be your Academy family, or if you adopt someone, like your sibling or parent. Adoption means that you want to protect them and make sure they are happy and safe.”
“How do you adopt your own mom?” someone asked amid a chorus of giggles.
I was wondering that, too. What about Marie? Or even my dad or my step mother? Did joining the Academy mean I adopted them?
“Once you’re in the Academy,” Carla continued, “you get to pick who you want to adopt. It just means they get put on a list, and the Academy will help you make sure they have a job, a house, and are healthy and safe. You might not be able to include everyone you want because they might not accept help. That’s what the adoption process is for. To see if they’re willing to accept help.
“Once they are taken care of, you get to work outside your family and help us help other people. If your family gets into trouble, though, you have to stop what you’re doing and focus on family. That’s why there’s the rule about family is first. Once your family is safe, we move on. When your home life is stable, you’re able to focus.”
The girls behind us gathered closer as we walked. “What’s the other ones?” one of them asked. “The rules?”
“Family is a choice,” Carla continued. “It means you get to choose your teammates. No matter what, you can pick who you are with. You also choose who you adopt so it can be anyone. Simple enough.”
I absently fiddled with the zipper on my jacket as I thought about her words. You could choose. It was a rule. Could it be that simple, though?
Before I could ask her to elaborate, she moved on. “But the first one is trust your family.”
One of the girls spoke, “I don’t understand that one.”
“It means, you have to be as honest as possible with your own Academy family, and tell them everything. Every tiny detail. There should be no surprises between you.”
I swallowed. I wasn’t a very good Academy person. I had secrets. The boys were holding out on Kota about a big one. I had taken their direction on it before but there was a conflict between trusting the others with doing the right thing, and trusting Kota to tell him.
“Why?” someone asked. “I was told the Academy was a secret, but they want our secrets? Why do we have to tell anyone?”
“Because...” Carla paused and then looked back at me.
“Uh...” I said and looked to Mrs. Rose.
Mrs. Rose smiled and then paused as she walked. Everyone else did, too, and made a circle to look at her.
She signed, and I translated. “I have a secret,” she said. “When I was younger, I had a voice. I used to be able to sing.”
I swallowed hard. I wasn’t sure why, but I’d assumed she was born mute. Her eyes glittered when she spoke, but there was something dark hiding in there—I suspected it was pain.
She moved her hands to speak, but in some areas, I had to fill in some words as sign language was simple, and she was telling a story and I was doing my best to share. She continued. “I was a child of the state, and back then, they didn’t have the regulations as we do now. I never knew my parents and was never adopted. I was in a foster home with other children who were forced to work. I worked every day with bleach to clean clothes and floors. Day after day, I smelled nothing but bleach. Because I breathed it in every day, my voice eventually faded, until I couldn’t even whisper. It had eaten through my vocal cords.”
Everyone was quiet. I couldn’t believe her story, and had trouble remembering to translate what she was signing because I wanted to absorb the story.
“It was hurting my lungs, too,” she continued. “One day, when I poured the bleach into my bucket and breathed it in, I began to cough up blood. My foster parents tried to tell the hospital that I must have tuberculosis, but tests came back negative. Even then, doctors wanted to send me back to the foster home. The doctors gave me medicines, but I knew my foster parents would put me right back into scrubbing the floors.
“They said I must have gone off to smoke with some older boys. But I hadn’t—I knew what was making me sick.”
“I wanted to tell the doctors. They were the only adults that I thought could save me. Only I couldn’t tell them what was really happening. I’d lost my ability to tell them.”
“It was a young Dr. Roberts who saved me. Back then he was just an intern, but he knew. He won my trust by bringing me candy and would tell me funny stories, and never minded that I couldn’t talk back. Then one day he handed me paper and pen and asked me to tell him everything that had happened to me back at the foster home.”
I was so happy that someone would listen. I begged him to save the rest of the children in the foster home. Maybe it was too late for me, but I hoped he could at least save the others from this fate.”
Her bright eyes darkened as she went on, her smile losing the glimmer she’d had before. “Forty-seven children in a three bedroom house, all forgotten by the state. But after I told my story to Dr. Roberts, the Academy took over. I eventually joined and with Dr. Robert’s and my team’s help, I made sure every single one of my foster siblings—all forty-seven of them—found a decent home. They are all—to this day—protected by Academy adoption.
“We tell our Academy family everything because they can help us with everything. If there are no surprises, there won’t be anything they can’t do for us. And once you’re family, you’ll want to know so you can help your family, too.”
Once she finished, I realized my throat had closed up. Two of the girls standing with silent tears trailing down their cheeks. No one spoke. No one moved. We stood together, absorbing this story, with trees around us, the blue sky above, and the silence of mid-winter.
Mrs. Rose continued signing and I had no choice but to translate. “We need to talk about the third rule some more.” She waved her hand, urging us to continue walking toward the trail. “Academy second.”
We started walking again. “It means you work on your family first,” Carla said, although her voice was softer than it had been before. “And...”
Mrs. Rose signed. “If there is a family emergency, while completing Academy work, family comes first. However, there’s a second level to that same rule. If you do have an emergency, you rely on the strengths of your family first. Only turn to the Academy if you can’t do it yourself.”
“I thought the Academy helped others,” one of the girls said.
“It’s true,” Mrs. Rose said. “But we don’t offer training and assistance only to have you ask us every time something happens. Always, always come
to us if you need us, but we encourage self-reliance. This is why there is a favor and banking system in place. It’s to give you specific goals and train you while ensuring Academy resources don’t get depleted.”
I was relaying this information when something ahead caught my attention. There were figures in the woods on our left side, skirting around trees, but I could clearly see it. I panicked—thinking about Mrs. Rose and her talk of bears when I realized I could spot bright red through the branches of the low bushes.
It was hard to focus when I was trying to interpret but in the moments when Carla or one of the other girls spoke, I continued to look for it.
Was someone following us?
There was a break in the discussion as we got to the trail. This one was a red clay mixed with sand dirt path. It was bright and obvious, marked with a freshly painted “Hiking Trail” sign. I recognized Gabriel’s handiwork. We didn’t cover it last night, so he must have done it this morning.
“We don’t know how far this trail stretches out,” Carla said. She’d taken the map back from her friend and was looking at it. “The trails aren’t marked, just the main roads.”
“We didn’t have time to hike all the trails and map them out,” I said. “This camp is really big.”
Mrs. Rose checked her gold watch on her wrist and then began signing instructions, which I relayed: “It’s nine-thirty. Let’s assume twelve-thirty is lunchtime, so we’ve got three hours.”
“We could follow the trail for an hour and a half,” Carla said. “And if it doesn’t twist around and bring us back to camp by that time, we can just turn around and follow it back.”
“That’s a very smart answer, Miss Carla,” Mrs. Rose replied. “Very Academy.”
FOLLOWING THE TRAIL
The girls chatted about the trail as we started out until Mrs. Rose brought us back to the Academy and what that meant.
“Your training—this week and beyond—will help you to help yourself and your family situation, both Academy-chosen family and your adoptions.”
The way she said this, and with the way other girls nodded, it made me realized that what I’d suspected before might have been right. They were troubled teens. I didn’t know their backgrounds, but I sensed they were eager, hopeful that the Academy was something much better.
“So it isn’t a school?” someone asked.
“It’s not a school like you’re used to,” she said. “But it’s still an education. We train you according to your needs—both educational and so you may support yourself.”
“You get us jobs,” Carla said. “In fields we like.”
“We create opportunities. The Academy has very smart, very connected people who can help you reach your potential. But it comes at a cost.”
“I knew there was a catch,” Lake said. “You’re going to have us give you all our money once we get jobs.”
“No,” I said, even before Mrs. Rose could shake her head—I knew it wasn’t like that though I wasn’t exactly sure how it worked.
Mrs. Rose continued. “This is where the favor and banking system takes place. That’s what I call it. I think their terms have changed over the years but I’m still thinking in old terms. Old bird that I am.”
“Oh yeah, we’re birds, aren’t we?” one of the younger girls asked.
“But what about the dogs?” another girl asked. “The boys?”
As Carla tried to explain that birds mean girls and dogs mean boys and it was just Academy slang, I caught a glimpse of the red streaking through the bushes on one side of the trail.
Someone was following us.
I studied our surroundings. There were trees on either side, mostly uninteresting woods. There was no reason why I someone would follow us here other than to spy on us.
There was no telling who it was, either. I had some suspicious, though. There were times the boys followed me either in school or at other times, and it seemed similar. I wondered if it was practice…or if there was a reason.
Mrs. Rose went on as we continued our hike. “We don’t take any money. You keep what you earn. However, internally, the Academy does have its own cash system. We use these funds collectively to start charities, to which we donate funds that go to our families in need. As our numbers grow and our needs increase, we occasionally hold additional fundraisers.”
I thought about the fundraiser at Thanksgiving. I nodded and said, “So when we donate money to the fundraisers, that’s when we’re adding money to...”
She shook her head. “No,” she signed to me as I spoke aloud for everyone else. “Let me explain.” She paused, clearly trying to think of how to say what was next. “When you join the Academy, you’ll be given an indirect ‘fund.'” She did air quotes. “However, you do not have access to it. It’s money you’re provided with to help your situation and can only be dispensed with Academy approval. Consider it like a credit card. Do you all understand credit cards?”
“You charge money to an account,” Carla said, “but you have to pay it back with interest.”
“We don’t charge interest,” she said. “But we do need you pay it back. When you start out, you’re given a debt in the beginning, usually ten grand.”
Jaws dropped around me. “Ten thousand dollars?” one of the younger girls asked. She lifted her hands up and shook her head. “I don’t have a job yet. How am I supposed to...”
Mrs. Rose shook her head and lifted up a palm.
“Let her finish, please,” I said. The girls looked to me, eager for an explanation. I realized they might be thinking I was some sort of leader because I was Mrs. Rose’s voice.
Mrs. Rose continued. “Your Academy ‘credit’ total per individual right now is thirty thousand. Ten thousand is deducted the moment you get access. The money is used for your education and training. It’s actually a real bargain.” She smiled. “Colleges these days, that won’t get you in the first year.”
The girls chuckled, but there was still confusion on their faces.
“Anyway, you never pay any of this money back in cash,” she said. “You must pay that debt back through the jobs you complete for the Academy. Jobs for your own family, helping your family, don’t count. Helping your family, or your family helping you, that’s always free.
“A job you do for the Academy might earn cash for the Academy. That cash is poured into your ‘credit card’”
“When can we spend the money?” Carla asked.
“You can only spend it when your family needs it beyond what you can afford for yourself,” she said. “Or if you wish to use it to better your family. As an example, say you lost your non-Academy job, and you’re short on funds for bills. The money is used to pay until you’re able to get another job.”
“And then we pay it back?” she asked.
“Not in that sense. With Academy work. This is our way of boosting you up without having a constant debt owed to the Academy. It keeps our accounting simple, too, and under the radar.”
“Because we’re secret,” someone said.
“Why are we secret?” someone else asked.
“While that’s a long explanation, the simple answer is: people would try to exploit and take advantage of our system,” Mrs. Rose said. “We are very selective of who we invite into the Academy and you should be very careful not to talk about it.” She paused and shifted her bag on her shoulders as she looked around at the group. “Would anyone like some trail mix or water? I forgot to ask before we started. We should stay hydrated.” She looked right at me.
I hadn’t realized, but my stomach was growling. Two bites of burrito and a candy weren't going to last me through a three-hour hike.
Mrs. Rose opened her bag to pass out water to anyone who didn’t have any. The girls who’d brought cinch bags offered their own bottles they’d brought along, too, along with bug spray and packets of crackers. Mrs. Rose had trail mix and she handed me a small bag.
When everyone had items in hand, we continued on the walk and Mrs. Rose signe
d to me that we’d take a break while I was eating.
As we walked, some of the girls talked but I concentrated on eating and the occasional streak of red zipping from tree to tree. I began to think there were two of them, the way my attention was drawn to different spots.
I glanced at the other girls, but they hadn’t seemed to notice as they ate and chatted.
I remembered how Mr. Buble was adamant to the new teens about not being peeping toms, and I sincerely hoped it wasn’t new boys who were spying on girls and would get kicked out. However, it didn’t really make sense, either. Why us? We were just hiking and learning more about the Academy.
Then I remembered new people were probably in groups like this, so it shouldn’t be them. So it had to be older Academy people who would know better, and that made me wonder why anyone would follow us at all.
Once I was finished eating, I let Mrs. Rose know I was ready to continue. She gave me a nod and began signing. “I also mentioned another half to our system. Favors.”
“You earn favors from the Academy,” Carla said. She was still in the lead, looking ahead at the trail, but spoke over her shoulder. “When you do jobs.”
“But you also spend favors,” Mrs. Rose signed. “And like the cash system, you begin with a debt.”
“Don’t tell me it’s ten thousand,” someone said.
“No,” Mrs. Rose signed. “It’s only ten favors out of a total of thirty.”
“That’s easy, then,” someone said. “Thirty favors?”
“Not as easy as you think,” she said. “This isn’t asking someone a favor like babysitting for a night or mowing a lawn. Favors mean you’re taking part in something big that could mean a life change for someone else, even if you might not see the result. Think of it like if you volunteer to build a house for the poor. It took effort and time and for that, you’re rewarded a favor.”
“How do we know it’s a favor?” someone asked.
“When you’re recruited to help,” she said. “And you’ll also know ahead of time when something costs you a favor as well.”