by Chad Morris
Orientation
The history classroom looked normal—except for the full-sized pirate ship emerging from the front wall. The new seventh graders of Cragbridge Hall gasped in unison, their eyes wide and mouths open. Abby sat awestruck as the old wood soon surrounded her and the other rows of students, like a ghost ship. She had heard tale after tale about the amazing learning devices at the premiere school, but this was her first experience with living history.
Abby could hardly stay in her seat. She was finally seeing one of her grandfather’s inventions in action. Abby pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes and tucked it behind one ear. She didn’t want any distractions. She looked over at Derick. He no longer spoke with the boys sitting next to him. His blue eyes stared ahead, mesmerized.
The teacher, Mr. Hendricks, paced in his button-down shirt, slacks, and shiny loafers. “Welcome to orientation. Because history is your first-period class, I have the pleasure of helping to prepare you for the school year that begins tomorrow. But first, a little history.” He narrated as they watched. “You are about to see one of the most infamous villains from the past few centuries. His name was Edward Teach, a pirate in the early 1700s. The episode you are about to watch happened off the coast of North Carolina in late November, 1718. Teach caused great damage by ransacking ships, setting them on fire, and sinking them. He threatened many people’s lives, but he never killed his captives. He famously sailed a ship called the Queen Anne’s Revenge, but today you’ll see him in a smaller vessel—the Adventure.”
Abby instinctively rubbed the ring on her index finger, which turned on all the rings she wore on her fingers and thumbs. The virtual screen in her contact lenses flicked on. With a swipe of her finger, she set the screen to appear only in the upper left-hand corner of her vision. Each ring had a sensor that traced that finger’s movement. She could easily type, select, and change programs with them.
Abby virtually typed a few notes: Edward Teach, 1718, off the coast of North Carolina, The Adventure
How many of the students were actually listening to the teacher’s words? Part of her didn’t want to; it was hard to listen to a lecture with a pirate ship in the room. The other part of her knew she had to focus, had to learn.
More of the ship glided into view. It moaned and creaked under its own weight, swaying from side to side with the waves. The deck wasn’t crowded with pirates like Abby would have imagined. She estimated there were fewer than twenty. As she watched the straggly characters, one man caught her attention—he demanded it. A tall, broad-shouldered man with long, dark hair and a matching beard gazed intently in front of him. His beard was braided into two long strands that moved stiffly as his head swiveled to bark orders. He wore black boots that came up to his knees, and a long dark coat.
Draped across his wide chest was a leather sling holding two pistols in holsters. A third holster hung empty, the pistol in one of the pirate’s hands. His long cutlass was in his other. Jutting out from under his hat and along the bottom of his beard was a series of lit fuses. It was a fire hazard if Abby had ever seen one, but clearly the pirate wasn’t afraid of danger. Smoke curled up from the fuses, surrounding the man’s head in a dark cloud and making him look like some sort of demon. He was the most intimidating person she had ever seen.
Abby looked again at Derick. This time he whispered something to the dark-haired boy sitting next to him, then quickly looked back at the menacing pirate.
Derick and Abby had been at Cragbridge Hall for under an hour. From the time their parents had dropped them off at the great gates until now, they’d only had time to leave their suitcases with a supervisor at their dorms before coming to orientation. Yet Derick had already managed to make some friends. Abby had barely even said hello to anyone.
Mr. Hendricks continued. “Very few people know him by the name Edward Teach. You may recognize his pirate name: Blackbeard.”
A murmur of recognition spread through the class.
Before today, Abby hadn’t realized that Blackbeard was a real person. For all she knew, he was just a character from old novels and movies.
“Now!” Blackbeard yelled, and his crew lit fuses in bottles filled with powder. The fuses sparked and sizzled as they flew over the students’ heads, presumably to attack someone behind them. Explosions boomed, and then dust and smoke fogged over the classroom. Students shifted in their seats to look at the back of the room.
Blackbeard squinted, trying to make out details of something in front of him. A partial smile turned only one end of his mouth. “Ready the hooks!” he shouted. Several men grabbed long ropes with eight-inch iron hooks on the ends.
Another ship floated into view. It came from behind the class, drifting closer to Blackbeard and his crew. The hooks flew over the students’ heads, ropes trailing behind, and grabbed at the rails of the other ship, clawing into the wood. Soon the two ships met, filling the classroom. The ropes held them close together.
Blackbeard screamed and lunged over the side of his ship and onto the deck of the other vessel. He fired his pistol at the first movement visible through the haze. Ten men followed him, each shooting on the attack. But as the smoke cleared, only Blackbeard’s pirates were on the bow of the other ship. His head twisted in every direction, searching for his enemy.
Across the deck, the door to the hold flung open. Shots blared, and yells rang out throughout the history room. The marauding pirates had walked right into an ambush.
With swords raised and guns firing, the action paused. A ball hung suspended in the air about a foot from a gun’s barrel. Mr. Hendricks walked into the middle of the image. The pirates, the ships, the water were all frozen.
“The ship that Blackbeard is attacking, The Pearl, is captained by Lieutenant Robert Maynard. He’s the one in the uniform at the head of the men who burst out from behind that door.” Mr. Hendricks pointed him out. “Maynard hid more men there than Blackbeard had expected. This is the day that will put Robert Maynard into the history books.”
Abby had never heard of him.
Mr. Hendricks sent the scene rolling again with a flick of his finger. His rings controlled the images like a remote control.
Blackbeard pointed one of his pistols at Maynard and fired. The lieutenant fired back. Blackbeard’s shot buried itself into the banister behind Maynard at the same time as the pirate himself stumbled. Blackbeard had been hit at point-blank range.
He only staggered for a moment. Blackbeard’s lip curled, and he charged Maynard, his cutlass slashing in front of him. The steel of swords collided, anger and adrenaline fueling the fight. The two men attacked and defended in a deadly dance across the blood-stained deck. The other soldiers and pirates fought fiercely around them. Abby scarcely knew where to look, so she tried to look everywhere at once. Her head swiveled from one battle to another, but her attention always returned to Blackbeard.
His long arms wielded his weapon well. He was strong despite his wound. With a furious grunt, the pirate’s sword clashed against Maynard’s, breaking it in two. Several students gasped, and one girl even screamed. Maynard backed up quickly, desperately. He had no chance without his sword. Blackbeard lunged. Someone else’s blade slashed from the side—and the entire scene quickly faded away.
The class groaned in disappointment. Students’ questions filled the room. “What happened?” “Did he die?” “Who won?”
Mr. Hendricks shushed the class. “You know very well that Cragbridge Hall does not show gratuitous violence. This is as far into the battle as you can watch.” Their teacher stood tall and handsome, with short, dark hair tipped with gray. “The sword you saw save Maynard belonged to one of his men. Several others from his ranks also attacked Blackbeard. We don’t know which blow was fatal, but by the end of the day, the pirate had five gunshot wounds, and several deep gashes. This was the last day of the infamous Blackbeard the pirate.”
“You mean, he died?” a boy in the back row blurted out.
“I thought I heard somethin
g,” Mr. Hendricks said, motioning that the young man needed to raise his hand. “Though we are an institution with amazing and exciting learning devices, we must still keep order.”
The same boy lifted his arm in the air. “So Blackbeard died?” he repeated sheepishly.
“Yes.” Mr. Hendricks paced to one side of the room. “That is part of why I’m showing this episode for orientation. Blackbeard was a villain. He broke the rules. He stole and plundered what he had not earned and did not deserve. A person cannot live that way and get away with it forever.”
“But ...” another boy started, then caught himself and raised his hand.
Mr. Hendricks called on him.
“But he was so awesome,” the boy defended.
“He may have been ‘awesome,’ but he was also a villain. He should have been caught sooner.” Mr. Hendricks paused. “Much, much sooner. But at the end of the day, he was caught. Maynard threw Blackbeard’s body into the sea and hung his head from the bowsprit of his ship.”
Several girls winced. “Disgusting,” a blonde a few rows to Abby’s left whispered. Abby thought Blackbeard probably deserved what he got, but she was glad she hadn’t seen it.
“His head was later placed on a stake near the Hampton River to warn all pirates,” Mr. Hendricks continued, pacing up the row. “The message was that the pirates had to change, or they could expect the same fate. Which brings me to one point of our orientation.” Mr. Hendricks pointed to a digital poster on the wall with a three-dimensional image of Blackbeard. A few of the fuses under his hat still burned. His cutlass was raised in front of him, his strong arm holding it forward. But he was also weak, injured. Beneath his determination, Abby could see surprise, and maybe even fear.
“I keep this picture on the wall to warn you. You do not want to be like Blackbeard. Sometimes bright young people believe they are above the rules. They think they can take advantage of the system. At times, they even delude themselves into thinking they should. Believe me, you are not above the system. If you break the rules of this academy or the rules of this class ...” Mr. Hendricks didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he ran his finger across his throat.
Abby froze in shocked silence. No one in the class made a sound.
After several moments of tension, Mr. Hendricks laughed. “That’s sign language for suspension or dismissal,” he teased. “Did you think I meant something else?”
Abby exhaled, and several other students did the same.
Mr. Hendricks gestured for the class to stay quiet. “But I’m not joking about suspension or dismissal. You must keep the rules. And for you to keep the rules, I’d better make sure you understand them.”
As Mr. Hendricks went through the rules, Abby took copious notes. She knew most of them from the virtual orientation tour, but rewrote them to make sure they were seared into her memory. Breakfast was at 7a.m. sharp. Each of their seven classes began on the hour, starting at eight, with a one-hour lunch at eleven. Those in the higher grades ate at noon. If tardy or truant, students received two warnings before detention. After three detentions, they would be suspended. If the problem continued, they may be expelled. The highest penalties would be enforced against cheating.
The library, the commons, and even the gym and the fields were all open areas after school if not occupied by a team. Students had to pass through several levels of security as they entered, both to keep the students safe and because of the great inventions at Cragbridge Hall. This meant that students could leave the school grounds only with permission and on special occasions. Dinner was at 6:00, curfew at 9:00. All students had to be in their rooms by curfew. Lights would be turned off and doors locked at 10:00.
Abby looked over at Derick, who hadn’t even turned on his rings. She hated his excellent memory. He didn’t take many notes about anything. She had to read, study, and pound information into her brain, while her twin brother often glanced over the textbook the night before and still got the class high on a test. She never scored higher than he did.
“Any questions?” After Mr. Hendricks waited an uncomfortably long time, he continued. “That is it for orientation. You’ll return here for first period tomorrow morning, and I’ll go over another set of rules.”
Abby thought she could feel the class weighed down by the drudgery of the regulations.
“You will need to follow those rules meticulously when it is your turn to use ... the Bridge.” The general feeling quickly changed as excited noises spread through the room like wildfire. They were going to get a chance to control the world-famous device that had just allowed them to see a pirate battle.
3
Jacqueline
"So,” Abby said, seeing that Derick had finished his conversation with a few other boys. “What do you think?” She felt grateful to know one person in the room. At least she had someone to wait for.
“Incredible,” Derick answered. He waved good-bye to his new friends, and the twins walked out of the history room, into a great hallway. The ceilings were several stories high, and a long sunroof let in the twilight.
“Yeah,” Abby agreed. “I don’t think this place could be any more amazing.”
“Sure it could,” Derick said, one eyebrow cocked between his dark hair and blue eyes. Abby knew a joke was coming. “They could let us paint murals on the walls and give us all amusement parks, and x-ray vision... Oh! And pet dragons.”
Abby hit Derick—not a full-blown punch, but not just a playful kidding around hit, either. It was a hit only a sister could give and not be considered abusive. “You’re so weird,” she said.
They passed a series of digital images posted on the wall like paintings. Abby guessed they all portrayed Shakespearean plays—Romeo and Juliet, Julius Caesar. The last one showed a man in a large storm. Abby didn’t recognize it.
“But I’m right,” Derick responded. “I’d love a fire breather or a dragon that could become invisible and turn people to stone with its tail. You’d probably have a little pink dragon with rainbow scales that spit flowers and cried candy hearts.”
Abby hit Derick again. How could he come up with funny things to say so quickly?
“Always resorting to violence,” Derick said. “You’re lucky I don’t have my dragon yet.” There it was again. Did he even have to try to be funny? Abby could sometimes come up with something witty, but by that point she’d missed the chance to say it.
Derick pushed open the large doors, and they left the Hall—the building that housed the history classes, the commons, and the cafeteria. It’s official name was Cragbridge Hall and was the original building of the entire school. As the school grew, other buildings were added, but the entire academy kept the name. They walked down the steps and onto a path surrounded by grass fields and shrubs carved into a variety of shapes. One shrub looked like a bear on its hind legs, and another was trimmed to look like Abraham Lincoln.
“Well,” Derick finally said, pointing down the path to the left, “I guess I should head to the boys’ dorm—unpack and stuff.” He waved good-bye. “Try not to do anything too stupid. I’m your twin, so people assume things.”
There was something in his smile, or maybe in his eyes, that made Abby think he wasn’t completely joking. “Thanks,” Abby said. “Your confidence is inspiring.”
“I lift people,” Derick said sarcastically. “It’s what I do.” He headed down the other sidewalk.
Abby slowed her pace as she watched him go. She didn’t know how Derick could seem so casual about living away from home for the first time. They were at the premiere secondary school of the world—the pressure was on. He should be nervous. Then again, Derick succeeded at everything.
It wouldn’t have been so completely annoying if he wasn’t her twin. He hadn’t lived longer. He hadn’t attended a different school. She had no excuses. The truth of the matter was, they both had the same experiences in life—same family, same school, even the same vacations—yet he outdid her at everything.
Abby made he
r way to the younger girls’ dorm on the other side of the playing field and raised her hand at the scanner as she approached. She couldn’t feel it, but she knew it was doing its work. She didn’t even have to slow down before the doors opened.
Ninth graders were busily talking in the halls on the first floor. There were hugs and squeals as girls reunited after the summer break. They didn’t have to attend the orientation, so some were just arriving, suitcases dragged behind them. Abby looked at the smiles, braids, pressed skirts, beads, sandals, and boots. She suddenly became self-conscious about her jeans and fitted T-shirt. Abby saw every shade of skin, and guessed the girls came from all over the globe. They all looked so mature and ready for the world.
It took Abby a moment to reorient herself. She had only been in the building once before to drop off her luggage. She opted to take the stairs instead of the elevator chute. Sure, the chute would bring her to both her floor and then across to her room, but she wanted to stretch her legs and look around. She peeked out of the stairwell to look at the second floor—more of the same crowded hallways.
Abby continued up to the third floor, her new home. She tried not to think about the house she grew up in, which was less than a half-hour drive away, and Grandpa’s house, less than a mile away. She didn’t want to feel the pangs of homesickness, not on the first day.
She pushed the door open and stepped onto the third floor. It was different from the lower two stories. There were a few loud conversations, but the seventh graders were definitely quieter than the eighth and ninth graders. Abby imagined most of the girls would be like her, not knowing anyone else.
Abby had to turn on her rings to check her room number: 326. As she walked down the hall, she heard a girl speaking to her mother. Abby thought about using her rings to sync up to her mother’s rings to talk to her, but decided against it. She had only been gone for a few hours. Syncing up now would look wimpy. Out of another room came some sort of syncopated music. Whatever it was, the lyrics were not in English. Eventually she approached her room. The door was partially open. She figured her new roommate was inside. Abby paused and took a deep breath. She twisted her hair into a ponytail, then tapped her knuckles on the door as she entered.