The Academie

by Amy Joy

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “My bunkmate’s Shara. Have you met her yet?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “She’s taller than me, with straight, long, light-blonde hair. She’s real fair-skinned.”

  “I don’t think I’ve seen her yet.”

  “There are so many people in the dorm…”

  “Yeah, it’s nothing like college dorms. I miss having my own room.”

  “You were in college? Where?”

  “The University of Ohio.”

  “Oh. I hear it’s great there.”

  “Did you, uh, go to school?”

  “No, I got a job.”

  “Oh cool. What did you do?”

  “Waitress at Ben’s here in town.”

  “Oh yeah?” I tried to look excited for her. In truth, waitressing at Ben’s isn’t what I expected to hear—not that Ben’s was bad, it was just… It was sad… “So, how was that?”

  “Not bad. I made good tips most nights.”

  The instructor cleared her throat to let us know that we were about to begin. Stevie turned around in her chair and pulled out her notebook and pen.

  “I am Sergeant Prattle. Welcome to Basic Algebra.” She passed out books, then syllabi, and starting going through it word for word. Even so, Stevie appeared to be taking down every word.

  I tried to focus on the class so that I didn’t miss anything important, but my mind just kept wandering back to my conversation with Stevie. I had never realized how lucky I was. I took college for granted—never even considered the possibility of working after high school—especially not (I was afraid to admit it) at a job that I could have done while I was in high school. But I had options. I had parents willing to help support me to go to college. Maybe Stevie didn’t?

  Stevie and I walked to Remedial History together, and I watched as, once again, she took out a notebook and pen and jotted notes about everything the instructor said. It seemed like a good idea—to stay focused if nothing else, so I tried to follow her lead.

  After our last morning class together, I asked Stevie to join Ruby and I for lunch.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Of course not. Don’t be silly.”

  “So, did you ask someone about switching classes?” Ruby asked after I’d introduced Stevie.

  “Yeah, but it’s not going to happen.” I looked at Stevie, who looked at me curiously. “I was having some schedule problems, but its fine now.” I smiled and hoped Ruby would catch on. “Stevie’s in all of my classes.”

  Ruby got it. “Oh, that’s great.” She answered so genuinely; I was impressed.

  When lunch was finished, Stevie followed Ruby off to fitness—which they were lucky enough to have together—while I headed to Earth Science. There I saw many of the faces I’d seen in other classes that morning, and one that I didn’t recognize. He was blonde, tan, grinning like Stevie always did, and sitting in the center of the room. He smiled at me as I entered, but not feeling especially social, I took a seat along the far wall and looked down at my books while I waited for the instructor to begin.

  For some reason, the tan blonde made me think of Bryan. After we’d tried to meet at Dean’s Bagels, I didn’t hear from him for days. When I finally did, things were awkward. He said he’d been there. I knew he couldn’t have been. I told him I was there. I could tell he didn’t believe me. I didn’t know what to think. Eventually we put it behind us, but it took weeks for the uncertainty to melt away. I don’t think I really trusted his intentions toward me again until our first date. Of course, it wasn’t like most first dates, but I counted it anyway.

  I remember that I had recently learned of The Academie Expansion Act, and I was a mess about it.

  zxbfeie: I know just the thing to cheer you up. You need to go out. With me. Allie, will you go on a date with me?

  truth: when?

  zxbfeie: now

  truth: sure…

  zxbfeie: where would you like to go first?

  truth: on a date, with you?

  zxbfeie: yes. name the place—anywhere you like.

  How was he going to pull this off?

  truth: I don’t know. At this point, I’ll go anywhere.

  zxbfeie: good. my choice then.

  zxbfeie: how about Paris?

  truth: Paris, France?

  zxbfeie: you got it. Paris, France. We’ve waited long enough for a date, so why not make it spectacular?

  I smiled to myself. Even if he weren’t stuck in the Academie, we certainly didn’t have the money to do anything this extravagant.

  zxbfeie: are you up for it?

  truth: I guess so

  zxbfeie: ok then, picture this: I’m at home, getting dressed in tan pants and my favorite blue, button down shirt.

  My smile widened as I caught on.

  truth: meanwhile, I’m at home, pulling on my favorite pink dress. It’s strappy and cropped just above the knee.

  I didn’t own such a dress, not that it mattered.

  zxbfeie: I put on my dress shoes, say goodbye to my mom and dad—who say hello by the way—and take off in my DaLorean.

  truth: you have a DaLorean?

  zxbfeie: on this date I do

  truth: oh, right. of course :o) that’s perfect because if you can rig it to travel in time, then you can get to my house quicker.

  zxbfeie: now you’re thinking :o)

  zxbfeie: so a minute later, I arrive at your house.

  truth: and I just happen to be ready

  zxbfeie: your parents open the door, and as they do, I see you coming down the stairs, looking absolutely gorgeous.

  I blushed. We don’t have a staircase that’s visible from the doorway, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

  truth: my parents love you, of course, so they bid us a happy evening

  truth: “oh good, you’ve brought the time machine,” my mom would say. “Please bring her back before eleven then.”

  I chuckled at my cleverness.

  zxbfeie: “No problem, ma’am,” I’d answer, tipping my hat.

  I laughed out loud.

  zxbfeie: Then I show you to the car and open the door for you

  truth: should I stand back six feet so I don’t get hit by the door opening upward?

  zxbfeie: that may be a wise choice, but I’ll make sure you’re clear :o)

  zxbfeie: Now, would you like me to drive you out to the airstrip so we can take my private jet, or would you prefer to travel by flying time machine?

  truth: oh, by time machine of course

  zxbfeie: great choice

  The evening went on like this, and I found myself alternately laughing out loud and blushing bright red as he escorted me to one of the finest restaurants in Paris, and flew me to the top of the Eifel Tower and Arc de Triomphe—to which, of course, I had to add that he almost fell off.

  It was one of the nicest dates I ever had, even if it was just make-believe.

  And it made me long to meet him that much more.

  12. back to basics

  “So, how was it?” I asked Stevie when we met back up in Developmental Writing.

  “Fitness? Fine. A bunch of girls from our dorm are in my class.”

  Right, I thought. The normal class, where I could be making friends with people I live with—if only I wasn’t so challenged when it came to anything remotely athletic.

  “That’s great,” I said, putting on my best fake smile. “I’m happy for you.”

  In writing class I learned that we would spend the semester on my favorite past-time: diagramming sentences. This is the semester from hell. If I were still at college, I’d be in College Comp II by now, not to mention Intro to Philosophy and Sociology 102. Yet I couldn’t even vent about it because it was clear now that Stevie both really wanted and needed to be here. And not only her. As I looked around, I saw my bunkmate, Tina, once again seated in the back desk, next to the door. I smiled, and I know she saw me.

  She di
dn’t smile back.

  “Well, I guess I’ll see you at dinner then,” I said to Stevie as we picked up our books and headed for the door. “Are you going to join us again?”

  “Sure, if you want me to.”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll see if my bunkmate—Shara— wants to join us. You can meet her.”

  “That’d be great.”

  “Good luck in fitness.”

  I winced, and she smiled harder. “Thanks. I can’t wait until it’s over.”

  “Wow, small class, huh?” Jenny asked. I remembered her from exam day. She was the only other person who couldn’t climb the rope. “Guess we’re the only losers who couldn’t do well on the exam.”

  I tried to smile, but all I could think was: Am I a loser?

  “This was not supposed to be a co-ed class,” Fratelli's voice echoed through the gymnasium. “But then, this wasn’t supposed to be a class at all.” She paced, scrutinizing us again. I looked down to avoid her eyes. “In this class, my task is great. I have been asked to whip your butts into shape!” She stopped in front of me.

  When she resumed pacing, I looked at Jenny, who widened her eyes at me as if to say, What did we get ourselves into?

  "You might have noticed that this class is longer than others," Fratelli spat. "That's because you need it! And because you'll need a shower to save the world from your stench when I get through with you!”

  Jenny laughed, but the furrow in Fratelli’s brow remained set.

  “So what do you think?” I asked Jenny as we changed in the locker room an hour later.

  “It was hard. But maybe it’ll help me lose weight finally? I’ve tried all kinds of diets and nothing seems to work.”

  “Yeah, I guess I need to get into shape too.”

  She chuckled. "At least you're small."

  "But you saw me in the exam. I'm pathetic." Jenny chuckled again. "Hey do you think she's serious about teaching us fencing?”

  “I think she’s serious about everything,” Jenny said.

  “You ran laps?” Ruby asked at dinner. As promised, Stevie joined us and brought along her bunkmate, Shara.

  “Yeah, and we did push-ups too. Check it out,” I said, flexing my muscle.

  Ruby laughed and the others joined her.

  “Fine. Laugh now, but the way Fratelli says she’s going to work us, I’ll be buff in no time!”

  “We better keep on her good side,” Stevie said, smiling as always.

  “She might not want to know what we did in fitness,” Ruby said to Stevie.

  “What?”

  “Badmitten,” Stevie said.

  “Yeah, well, look out. Soon I’ll be able to kick your birdie swatting butts!” I caught Shara’s eye then and smiled. What an introduction. “So, Shara, how do you like The Academie?” I asked.

  “I am content wherever I am,” she said.

  Must be nice, I thought.

  “Shara’s got this Zen thing going,” Stevie explained.

  “I practice mindfulness and contentment.” She looked genuinely content as she said it.

  “Can you learn to be content?” I asked. “I thought you just are or you aren’t.”

  “That’s a myth. The so-called contentment most people experience is fleeting, based on physical pleasures. These things cannot bring us true happiness or contentment. Buddhists and those of similar philosophies believe that while life is full of suffering, we can learn to overcome it to find peace and happiness.”

  “So you're a Buddhist?” I asked.

  “No.” There was a pause and the rest of us looked at each other, trying to make sense of her. “I follow many traditions. I have incorporated pieces from various traditions into my philosophy and practice.”

  “Like what?”

  “She meditates,” Stevie said.

  “Really?” I was intrigued.

  “It’s part of my practice in mindfulness and contentment, yes.”

  “Where did you learn to meditate?” Ruby asked.

  “I read some books, listened to some recordings, and then finally, I found a retreat advertised on a flyer in a coffee shop, and I went and found myself awakened there.”

  “Wow, suddenly my life feels so shallow,” Ruby said.

  “Tell me about it,” I agreed.

  “I can teach you, if you are interested,” Shara said.

  “I’m in,” I answered.

  Prospects of fencing and seeking nirvana all coming to the horizon on the same day...

  Who would have known?

  Back in the dorm, I found Tina in bed again.

  “Thanks again for helping me out yesterday,” I said.

  She laughed, and it felt like she was laughing at me. "You find your way yet?”

  I thought about the strange room I’d entered by mistake, but I felt defensive now. Tina didn't seem to like me. "Yeah." I set my books on my desk and tried to think of how to be friendly. I couldn't live the next three years with someone who hated me. “How'd your classes go?”

  “As expected.”

  “I think we are in some of the same ones.”

  “Yup.”

  I searched my brain for ways to keep the conversation going, but drew a blank. “Are we done now? For the day, I mean.”

  “Did you see the schedule?” She pointed to the wall.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well there’s nothing after eight, so I guess we’re done.” She said it with a sassy tone, and I tried not to take offense....it wasn't working.

  “I suppose they think we are going to study now.”

  “I am going to study now.”

  “Oh.”

  “I don’t take my opportunities for granted like some people.”

  That stung. Maybe getting along is impossible.

  I turned and climbed the ladder to my bed.

  “That’s about right,” I heard her mumble.

  I pulled the pillow up over my head.

  13. andy

  The bed shook abruptly. I pulled the pillow off my head in time to see Tina walking to the bathroom. Now’s my chance. I climbed down the ladder and opened my drawer under the bed. Inside I fished around until I found a little, black book with a leather cover, held shut by an attached elastic band. My Christmas present from Grandma Marie.

  I grabbed a pen and climbed back up into my bunk. But when I opened the journal, I was surprised to find writing already on the first page.

  Pleese dont forgit me Al. I wil mis u.

  Oh, Andy. How could I forget you?

  Things changed a lot in my parents’ house after I went off to college and Matt went away to The Academie. Out of the three of us, Andy seemed to take it hardest. To compensate, my parents spoiled him like never before. This became obvious this past May, when I finished out my first year of college and spent the summer back home.

  “Alllliiieeeee!” I remember Andy calling. He scuttled barefooted to the door and leaped into my arms. I pulled him tight and twirled him around. As I set him down, it hit me: it wouldn’t be like this when I returned from The Academie. He’d be older then—way too big for me to lift—and he’d be different. At six, he was still young and sweet. Then he’d be…he’d be what we all become the longer we are in school: guarded. He would learn not to bounce around. He’d learn that it’s icky to hug your sister. He’d learn that’s not cool to hang out with family.

  I pulled him close again, squeezing him tight. Then I kissed him on his soft, little boy cheeks.

  “Allllieee!” he squealed, squirming away. I didn’t care. “Do you want to have a sleepover tonight, Andy?”

  “Really?” His eyes were wide with excitement, and the happy grin that showed his missing teeth spread across his face, revealing the dimples in his cheeks. Before we’d each gone off to school, Matt and I had sleepovers in the family room at least once a week. I’d grab the couch, he’d camp out on the floor, and we’d talk, eat popcorn, and watch old movies until we couldn’t hold our eyes open anymore. But being
so much younger and having an early bedtime, Andy had never been allowed to join us.

  I nodded. “I’ll talk mom and dad into it. You just think about what you want to watch.”

  He danced around as I watched with a sad happiness, the image of my future home still swimming in my brain.

  “How about a snack?” I said. Going straight for the pantry when I came home had been my routine I think since I was Andy’s size.

  “Okay!” He was already hyper from the attention. I followed as he ran off to the kitchen.

  “Hi mom!” I yelled. She spent much of her time upstairs in her office.

  “Hi!” she yelled back.

  Andy was already hidden behind the large pantry doors. I stood behind him, still able to see easily over his head. Looking into the cabinet, to my surprise, I found a box of S’mores Pop Tarts.

  “How did you get these?”

  Andy grinned.

  “We never had stuff like this before. I used to beg for them!”

  He put a hand over his mouth and started to giggle.

  That was it. The boy was obviously asking for it. I tickle-tackled him and he fell to the ground, squealing and begging for mercy as he tried to squirm away.

  “ALLLLLLIIIIIIEEEEEE!” he howled.

  “What’s going on down there?” mom yelled.

  “Nothing!” we sang back.

  “Fine then,” I said quietly, grinning at the happy little boy I had pinned. “So do you want to split a package?” I backed off, but he still lay there, red in the face with tickle-tears in his eyes.

  “Well, I don’t know…there aren’t many left…”

  “Oh you think so!” I said, lunging for him again. This time he was too fast, crawling under the table and running to hide behind the kitchen door.

  “HEY!” mom yelled again at the noise.

  “Okay,” he said, peeking around the side of the door. “We’ll share. But no more tickles!”

  “Okay. Truce for now?”

  He cautiously emerged, knowing that I’d tickle him once more for good measure—which I did—and then I grabbed the package and we made our way to the table.

  “What’s going on down here?” mom asked, coming down the stairs, a cup of coffee in her hand. She joined Andy and me at the table.