The Academie

by Amy Joy

  The days became a blur. Wandering halls. Staring at teachers as they spoke, but never hearing. It was like a TV with the sound muted. I’d look at them and they would see me making eye contact and I’m sure they thought I was the best student in the world. But I was somewhere else, not even daydreaming anymore—just floating out there somewhere. Spending my days. Numb.

  It took me off guard when someone called to me in the hall.

  “Hey zombie girl!”

  The voice came from behind me, but it was distant in my head. Everything was. I kept walking. Nothing mattered. I woke up to these gray walls after a beautiful dream of Bryan. I was there with him, and he held me again, kissed me gently on the forehead, and then that damn alarm went off and blasted the image from my head.

  “Hey!” The voice was there again. Something caught my arm.

  I turned but didn’t look up. Maybe it will go away.

  “Are you…okay?”

  “Huh?” It wasn’t leaving.

  “I just wondered if you were okay, that’s all.” I finally looked up and saw gray-blue eyes staring back.

  “I’m fine. Thanks.” I looked away. I couldn’t remember how to smile—to pretend it was true so he’d stop asking and let me be.

  “It’s just that you used to speak up in class. At the beginning of the semester, you were bubbly and talkative and had plenty to add to the conversation. You were…I don’t know, different.”

  I glanced back up. He stood almost a foot taller than me. He might be in my History class, but I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t see much of anything anymore.

  He continued on uncomfortably. “You never talk in class anymore, and never seem to talk to anyone for that matter.” He paused, uncertain. “I just wanted to know if you’re okay.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I’d tried to disappear and thought I had succeeded. But here was this guy I’d never even talked to, asking if I was okay. I didn’t know what to make of it.

  “Do you want to talk?”

  I shook my head.

  “You’re going to be okay?”

  I nodded.

  “Fair enough. I’ll see you around then, okay?” He was smiling. At me.

  “K,” I answered, still a little shell-shocked.

  He turned to leave and then abruptly turned back around. “I’m Cayden, by the way.”

  “Allie,” I returned.

  “I know.” He smiled again, turned, and headed down the hall the other way.

  My brief interaction with Cayden left me feeling strange, and a tiny bit better for a while.

  But winter dragged on, pulling me down with it. I couldn’t remember another quite like it, though I imagined it wasn’t unique.

  In my memories, we’d have light snowfalls and then one or two massive snow storms that would cover the town in several feet of white stuff, causing the schools to close and the children to celebrate. In between there would be spells of warmness where the grass would begin to poke through and eventually most of the lawn, till there was just one small patch left—usually in some corner where I remembered my father shoveling and shoveling and creating a great pile that, as a child, tempted me to dig in and build a fort. As it melted, it became a sad little pile, reminding me of all the fun I had, or could have had, but was over now. We’d have a couple of warm days and then the snow would start to fall again, covering all the dirty residue left from earlier winter weather, dressing everything in perfect white and tempting children with the hope of new possibilities. This is what I loved about snow: how it changed the world around me, making it fresh and new, encouraging me to look at everything in life differently.

  But this winter was strange. The snow came early and just kept coming. The sun rarely peeked its head, and when it did, it seemed only for a matter of minutes. Once I caught a glimpse of blue sky, but it quickly turned white again and the snow resumed falling. The grass that in years past had mocked me by poking its head out of my perfectly white and wonderful world, never came to laugh at me this year, and I found myself actually missing it.

  Now and then even without the sun, the temperature must have risen enough to set the snow to melting. But unlike years past, I couldn’t really see the difference on the ground. The only real sign of change was the snow that fell off the cars outside and the long icicles that hung from the school roof that grew day by day.

  I began to look daily out the single dorm window to check on one particular icicle. I had never seen one quite like it: it must have been six inches across at the top, and it dared to reach the ground. I wondered if it might actually touch from roof to earth before the sun shone hot enough to break it off.

  It’s difficult to keep yourself happy at times like this. I thought of people in warmer climates and how they would be seeing the sun and taking walks outside. I supposed some had beautiful fantasies about what it’d be like to live in a snowy climate, just as I fantasized about living near palm trees. They probably viewed the northern states as a winter wonderland where everyone ice skates, skis, and sleds after school, where people snowshoe to work. Sure, there were people doing these things—except the snowshoeing—but they were the minority. Most of us simply tried to survive. For the first month or so it might even seem fun, since it gets you into the spirit of the holidays. But then the holidays are over and it seems the snow should go as well. But it doesn’t. Then the sadness starts to set in. Some say it’s the lack of sun, but I always thought it was the isolation. You begin to feel a prisoner in your own home and wonder if you might ever get out again. You remember times of walking in sunshine or lying at the beach, but these memories seem so far off, so distant, and so impossible as you watch the snow falling steadily outside your window.

  Knowing I wouldn’t be leaving The Academie for three more years did not help to lighten my mood. Neither did the fact that, in all the time that had passed, no one would tell me anything about what happened to Shara.

  By mid-February, I became certain that winter would continue as long as I remained at The Academie.

  And I was just as certain I’d go mad.

  29. a place to hide

  Naturally, The Academie did not provide us with any kind of a coat, since they saw no need for us to go outside in the wintertime. But for me the need for fresh air became so overwhelming that a few times I tried to go out anyway—in just my uniform. Despite the fact that I was shivering in minutes, I wandered around the little bit of yard we had, alone, in the silence of the winter, and I almost feel free. There was something about defying everyone that always made me feel in control again.

  Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. One day, during the lunch hour, I snuck up to the dorm, piled on a pair of sleep pants over my Academie pants, pulled on an extra Academie shirt, and doubled up my socks. Then I draped my extra pair of sleep pants over my head, tied the legs around my neck, and put two pairs of socks over my hands. There was a time I’d have been concerned about what people thought of me. But at this point, I felt so trapped from the confines of The Academie and winter, I didn’t care.

  I stomped outside, never looking up to see the reactions of those around me as I walked to the front door to the school. I always expected an alarm to go off when I opened the doors, but it never came. I supposed they had secret cameras watching me. Besides, I could feel the eyes of enough students following me as I made my way across the yard, it probably didn’t matter. They would tell if I never reappeared.

  I stomped through what appeared to be a foot of snow as I made my way around the building. Normally, schools would plow for weather like this. Apparently, The Academie saw no need. That’s when it occurred to me: how did the faculty get into the building this morning? The paths weren’t plowed now, and they didn’t show the signs of having been plowed before—usually an area that has been plowed will show a defined dip in the snow, even after more snow has come to cover it over—and there were no such spots to mark footprints from their having trudged through the snow. That was odd. I always figured
they came in through the front, but apparently, they had a back entrance.

  I made my way to the left side of the building and began to gasp a bit as I did. Despite the great shape Fratelli was kicking my butt into in Basic Fitness, the snow was high and the exertion of walking in it, coupled with the cold air filling my lungs, always had the power to wear me out quickly. Normally, I would have flipped my scarf over my mouth so that I could resume breathing warm air, which usually helped. I could have used a bit of the sleep pant tied around my leg, but not today. This was the first fresh air I’d tasted in what seemed like forever. I wasn’t ready to give it up yet.

  I walked out to the fence guarded by the hedge at the edge of the property. I had no intentions of leaving—though the thought had certainly crossed my mind—but this is where I felt I needed to be. I knew what I was looking for, even if it seemed silly: I was searching for Bryan. Of course I knew I wouldn’t find him there. This isn’t even the same school he’d left from that day we tried to meet, let alone the same hedge and fence. But I needed to be close to him, needed to feel connected to him again. And this seemed the only way.

  On this side of the building, there were few windows, and I was thankful for it. I didn’t care much anymore about what any of my classmates thought of me, but I didn’t want to arouse suspicion or get them worried enough to tell a Sergeant and get me in trouble. Technically we were allowed to be outside, but you never know…

  I found a small break in the hedge where the bushes hadn’t quite grown together, and I climbed into the small space and sat down, surrounding myself in the embrace of the bushes. It was strange, sure, but I felt safe, secure, and closer to Bryan than I had in the six months I’d been at The Academie. It was in a place like this that he had escaped to come be with me. He had risked who knows what so that we could be together—even if it hadn’t worked out that day. Being surrounded by the bushes, I could almost imagine him holding me again.

  “You probably know what these bushes are called, don’t you?” I whispered to no one, imagining he could hear. The cold wind blew and the branch to my right reached over and touched its snow to my nose. “I’m ridiculous,” I breathed to my green protectors. “God, I miss him.”

  I sat there for a long while before deciding that the lunch period was probably about over. Then I got myself up and retraced my steps to the front door. Giant flakes were falling now, but I felt a little less alone as I wandered back to my life inside The Academie.

  30. hide-and-seek

  I started making the trek outside part of my daily routine. The rest of my lunch mates thought I was crazy and no one volunteered to join me, but I was happy to have the time alone. I found these little adventures outdoors kept me feeling more alive than I had in months. I wanted to get up in the morning because I knew that once I had a break, I’d be out there again. I usually went out at lunch, since it was the only wintertime meal in the daylight hours. I had a system worked out now too, so that I could ensure dry clothes to wear to bed and to class the next day. And so far, I hadn’t seen any sign of Dorm Sergeant Garret.

  Of course, going at lunch also meant that I missed my time to eat, so I began grabbing something small on my way out the door, to take to eat in my hedge fort on the side of the school. This is where I was huddled, eating lunch and having imaginary conversations with Bryan one day, when I heard an unusual rustle. I stopped, mid-apple-bite, and my cold breath caught in my throat.

  Crunch, squeak-crunch, crunch, crunch.

  Someone was coming. I was far back in the hedge with my back against a bit of the fence. I tucked my partially eaten apple into my sandwich bag and crawled forward just enough to see outside my fort. A man.

  Fear flooded through me. Who could have come for me here? Why? Was I violating school policy? I had successfully ventured outside for weeks. Was my happy solitude about to be disrupted by a full inquisition of The Academie staff? My heart began to thump loudly in my chest and I was reminded of games of hide-and-seek as a child, where I had found what I was sure was the best hiding place in the world, but I feared I’d be found simply because I couldn’t quiet the noisy thumping of my heart. But this person didn’t seem to need any hints to where I was. They were following my footprints.

  As they drew closer, I still couldn’t make out who it was, but I could see enough to suggest that it wasn’t a member of The Academie staff. For a brief moment, I imagined it was Bryan, coming to take me away from all of this.

  “Allie?” The voice came from across the snow.

  Cruunch, crrrrunch, crrrunch.

  It wasn’t Bryan. I didn’t answer. If I don’t say anything, like in hide-in-seek, I thought there still might be a chance they would go away.

  He didn’t.

  “Allie?” the voice came again, now walking up to my hiding place. “Allie?”

  Cayden. The boy from the hallway. I felt the flush of embarrassment rush over me. I began to wish that I had dug a hole and dropped myself into it.

  “Are you okay?”

  I thought about answering, but my voice wouldn’t come. What would I say? What do you say to this? I’m a grown woman hiding in a hedge. Yeah, this was real normal. I simply looked at him in response.

  “I was worried about you. I noticed you’ve been coming out here alone for weeks now… I know you said you were okay before, but…I thought I should double-check.”

  He was so sweet. I wanted to be angry at him for invading my sacred place, but a part of me felt grateful.

  He held out his hand to help me up. I grabbed my sandwich bag in one sock-covered hand and his hand in the other. I was suddenly aware of how ridiculous I looked. There were sleep pants on my head. I started to pull them off, but he stopped me. “Don’t. You look adorable. Besides, it’s smart. You’re dressed for the weather. Your ears won’t turn red like mine.” I looked, and sure enough, his were turning red. “Do you want to take a walk?”

  I was still too embarrassed to answer, so I simply shrugged and followed his lead. He headed toward the back of the school building, sticking toward the hedge to lengthen the walk since besides the trek out to the fields, there really wasn’t very far that we could go.

  The snow was light now, and it danced around us as the wind blew lightly causing small swirls of snow that I knew would create light patterns on the new fallen surface as it continued.

  “It’s not actually that bad out here, huh?” He looked at me, and when I didn’t respond, he continued. “No one comes outside. I guess it looks worse than it is. Once you are out here for a bit, it’s really not that bad.”

  We were approaching the back of the school now, and I found myself suddenly interested in my surroundings again. I’d been meaning to come back here for weeks, simply out of curiosity because I realized that I’d never seen it before. The sports fields were off the other direction, so really students never had a reason to come back here.

  As we came around the side, I saw the parking lot I expected to see, along with the cars that I assumed were from faculty and staff as well. Like most schools, there weren’t tons of windows in The Academie, but I thought I had looked down on this parking lot once before, early on in my stay here. But what I didn’t understand was the giant wing of the building that protruded from the backside. It was evident that it was an addition, since it didn’t match the rest of the structure. In fact, it wasn’t anything like the standard kind of an addition you’d see on a building, where they had tried to match up the brick but it didn’t quite work. This was as if they made no attempt to make the two meet. From the old brick school building now protruded this massive windowless, warehouse-like steel structure. It was hideous.

  “What is that?” I asked, breaking my silence.

  “I don’t know,” he said, looking equally perplexed. “Maybe it’s the dorms?”

  “I don’t think so. No, it can’t be. Ours has a window. It’s small, but it’s something. And it’s on the third floor. No, ours is right above the classrooms.” We continued wa
lking toward it, until recognition dawned on me, causing me to stop suddenly. “They told us they were the dorms. When they were adding on to the buildings. I remember. They said it was the dorms.”

  “Yeah, I remember that. I remember thinking about how I was going to have to live in that windowless place for the next two years.”

  “Yeah,” I answered, but his response had caught me by surprise. Two years. I hadn’t realized that he must be older than me.

  I stared off at the mysterious addition, but couldn’t make any sense of it. What on earth could they be storing in there? Why were there no windows? Not even a windowed door. Absolutely no way to get any glimpse of what might be going on inside.

  It was a strange sight: a plain, cream-colored steel building adjoining the old brick, laid out behind a parking lot with a couple dozen snow-covered cars in a lot that didn’t look like it had been plowed in weeks. “The cars. The lot,” I sputtered. “How did they get inside? Where are the footprints? Why doesn’t it look like they’ve left?”

  “Huh?” He appeared lost in his own thoughts.

  “Look around. The teachers, the staff— they come and go each day, don’t they?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Then why doesn’t it look like it? It doesn’t look like these cars have moved in ages.”

  I watched as he scanned the lot and recognition dawned on him. “Well, they can’t stay here, right?” he asked, now confused.

  “I don’t know, but it appears that way.”

  “Where would they go?”

  “Maybe they live there?” I said, now pointing to the mysterious steel structure ahead of us.

  “That’s just too weird.”

  “This place is weird,” I said, happy to hear that someone seemed to finally be seeing things my way.

  We didn’t continue our walk the rest of the way around the building. Feeling now like we had trespassed and discovered forbidden knowledge, we turned and headed back the way we came.