Stolen

by Elizabeth Gilpin

  I laughed and sat down next to her. “Give me some of that,” I said.

  For a whole two minutes we got to sit there like life was normal, eating pizza and looking at the stars.

  “Can you believe those are the same stars we’d see if we were back at home?” she said. “That it’s the same sky our friends might be looking at right now. I wonder if they still think about us. If they ask if we’re okay.”

  “I hope so,” I said. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

  “We have to.” Charlotte looked me directly in the eye. “Do not let this awful place win.”

  That night I thought about our conversation. I knew she was right, of course, but I couldn’t find the motivation to care. Especially when I was back inside the glass room.

  My next task was totally humiliating. I had to go around the entire school and ask every staff member and student to list two things they liked about me and two of their harshest judgments. If Carlbrook taught me anything at all, it was this: When someone calls you a pathetic whore, any compliments they might throw into the mix don’t mean very much at all.

  I was getting used to all the insults. It wasn’t that they had stopped bothering me completely but more like my body had figured out a way to shield me from their impact. I stored them in my bones and muscles like hundred-pound weights so that I could at least go on living without being consumed by negative thoughts.

  There was only one person I truly didn’t want to ask for judgments, however, and that was Luke. Just thinking about it made me nauseous. It wasn’t like we had some torrid romance going on, but we were there for each other in small ways that, taken altogether, felt like a kind of support I rarely got at Carlbrook. Even just a smile in the hall that felt like sharing a secret was enough to get me through an afternoon. I felt safe around Luke. He was nice to me—or at least he wasn’t openly mean.

  I guess the bar’s set pretty low when a boy refusing to call me a slut counts as chivalry, but hey, that was Carlbrook. They didn’t make it easy in groups, but Luke managed to avoid pointing out my weaknesses and doubling down on things I was sensitive about. Even if he secretly thought those things about me, just like everyone else, we both got to pretend he didn’t.

  That is, until I was forced to press the issue. I avoided Luke all week and made my way through the rest of the school. I didn’t want to turn him into just another boy who didn’t respect me. I was scared that once he gave me judgments there would be no going back. Finally, I had no choice but to face my crush. I walked right up to him, holding my red binder and a pen like I was signing people up to save the whales.

  “Hi.” I tried to sound as casual as possible. “Can I please have your two harshest judgments of me?”

  I was smiling, but I could feel tears welling up behind my eyes.

  “You forgot about the compliments,” he said. “How about I just give you those and you can make the other things up?”

  Luke told me that he liked me because I was smart and he respected me because I was a fighter. It was exactly what I needed to hear, and I think he knew that. Then Luke leaned in and whispered in my ear:

  “Don’t worry. This place isn’t forever.”

  I returned to the glass room just a little bit lighter. My muscles and bones could relax ever so slightly from the pressure. It was barely anything, but I could tell the difference.

  My program lasted about two months, which wasn’t very much time at all compared to what Brittany, Charlotte, and Lina were saddled with. It was, however, long enough to serve its purpose—Randall used me and my friends to send a message to the school. It was enough to fuck with my psyche once again. I had gotten used to being a shadow. Which didn’t mean I liked it, only that a strange half existence was my new normal. It shocked my system to suddenly be off bans and expected to participate—even communicate—like a full human being.

  There was a general shake-up of school structures in the aftermath of Kristen’s escape. For a lot of us, that meant swapping advisers. I was taken off Catherine’s team and handed over to Monica, which was its own sort of punishment. Monica was notoriously harsh, which was probably why she ended up with nothing but difficult kids on her roster. Lina and Brittany were already on her team and now she was stuck with little old me.

  Interacting with Catherine felt a little bit like dealing with my mom. She wasn’t especially confrontational, and as long as I was reasonably pleasant and well behaved, I could keep her off my back. Monica, on the other hand, was a lot more like my dad. She was totally no-nonsense and even militant at times. There would be no sneaking out in pants that were slightly too tight with Monica’s eagle eyes trained on my every move.

  Monica was trying to mold her little band of outcasts into perfect examples of reformed Carlbrook students. I was to wear my J.Crew with a smile and do my therapeutic work without hesitation. I was expected to buy in completely, and if Monica saw anything other than total compliance, she’d have another program ready to go.

  There was one perk to being on Monica’s team: She came with an adorable three-year-old son named Aidan. He was a cheerful little kid with a big, sweet smile, and he played happily with anyone who’d have him. I was always torn when I walked into an appointment and saw little Aidan. Carlbrook was no place for a toddler, and we were a poor excuse for child care. Selfishly, I loved getting to entertain him. It made me feel normal, even happy. I just hoped that all the weirdness of the place didn’t rub off on him somehow. It wasn’t like he was sitting in on group or carrying around an egg to keep alive.

  I wasn’t thrilled to have my new adviser, and I still felt shell-shocked about my entry back into school society. On top of that, I was consumed with guilt every time I walked by Lina and her pickax, forced to tack index cards to her that listed every single thing she hated about herself. Seeing Charlotte with her toothbrush and half-frozen bucket of soapy water made me want to disappear.

  Really, there was only one thing keeping me from descending into full-on despair, and that was Luke. He’d been away on his home visit for the last few days and was set to return at any moment. In fact, we had an appointment scheduled for that very night. It wasn’t like we got to hold hands and kiss or anything, but it still felt like a schoolgirl crush. I was looking forward to an hour of feeling something other than dread and maybe even smiling in his presence.

  Our last appointment had been so nice and distracting that I was actually disappointed when the hour was over. Mostly we talked about Luke’s upcoming home visit—the boating trip his dad had scheduled, all the restaurants he was planning to hit. Luke was excited to have his own room for a few days where he could listen to music and just be alone. When we set our next appointment for the evening he returned, it felt a little like he was asking me out on a date.

  All day, vans had been shuffling back and forth between the school and the airport. Kids trickled back in looking exhausted from their home visits, but none of them had been Luke. When everyone was gathered in the commons for appointments, he was nowhere to be seen.

  I figured he had a late flight. Or maybe it had been delayed. But when Last Light arrived and he still hadn’t appeared, some part of me knew he wasn’t coming back. I looked around at everyone smooshing and felt sick to my stomach. If he’d found a way out of all this, he was gone for good. Luke hated Carlbrook so much that he didn’t care if he had to sacrifice his high school diploma in order to be free.

  Free he was, diploma be damned. Alan gave his standard “today was a beautiful day speech,” but it ended on a serious note, confirming what I already knew.

  “I have some news,” he said. “You may know that Luke went home for his visit. Well, he didn’t come back. As far as we can tell he never boarded his flight. We’re in contact with his parents, but for the moment all we can do is keep him in our thoughts and hope he’s okay.”

  If Luke didn’t get on that flight, then he was gone for good.

  No more Luke. There goes my last vestige of hop
e.

  Deep down I understood that he was just saving himself. He might have even been trying to tell me something the day I asked him to give me his harshest judgments. When he told me that Carlbrook wasn’t forever.

  Chapter 25

  FOR THREE WHOLE hours, we thought Carlbrook was about to be shut down. Alan called a special meeting for that night and emphasized that every student and staff member was required to attend. To the best of our knowledge, this had never happened before. Everything was always discussed at Last Light. Housekeeping issues, new students, the fact that my crush had missed his flight and was never, ever coming back to Carlbrook. No topic ever required a special meeting of its own.

  We’re free. We’re fucking free! My knight in shining armor has come at last.

  “Okay, guys,” Alan said. “Quiet down.”

  The air in the commons felt charged and everyone chattered, unable to stop.

  “Seriously, that’s enough.”

  I closed my mouth and crossed my fingers.

  Please, please, please.

  “I have something kind of big to share with you. It’s about David.”

  David? Did HE get the school shut down?

  “I know David’s been a big part of life here at Carlbrook,” Alan said. “Both in workshops and in groups. A lot of you probably consider him a friend or even a father figure.”

  Wait. Is David dead? Is that what this is about?

  “And I have no doubt that he feels just as close to all of you. But unfortunately some things have come up…in David’s personal life…and we’ve come to a mutual agreement.”

  So David’s not dead. And he didn’t get the school shut down. Then what the fuck?

  “We’ve decided to part ways. David will no longer be a member of the Carlbrook family. We wish him the best, of course, and have no doubt that he has a bright future in front of him.”

  I could feel the energy deflate all at once. Alan continued to talk about David’s departure for a little while, letting us all know that we could come to him with any feelings we might have. He was still there for us. With open arms and an empty lap.

  I assumed Alan’s diplomatic story about a “mutual parting of ways” was total bullshit.

  It’s not that David was just such a good guy or anything—because he definitely wasn’t. David was an asshole, through and through. He berated us in workshops, yelling the most horrific things until we were broken down and sobbing. He would target certain kids.

  I remember one group, early on, during which David latched on to Luke and wouldn’t let up. His wrath seemed to come out of nowhere. He swore and taunted Luke mercilessly for the better part of an hour.

  His behavior was horrible, no doubt, but it wasn’t any worse than what I’d experienced from other Carlbrook staff.

  David’s sudden and mysterious departure struck me as oddly similar to Benjamin’s. Carlbrook’s rules had always seemed so arbitrary, its boundaries ever-shifting. It was a strange comfort to think that not even the staff was immune to the chaos.

  Chapter 26

  SOMETHING STRANGE HAPPENED right before the next workshop. I stopped having nightmares because I’d stopped dreaming completely. Animus, like the previous two workshops, had a theme. It wasn’t anything as tangible as integrity or friendship. Animus was concerned with “passion,” as modeled, absurdly, by Don Quixote. The night before, we watched Man of La Mancha, that musical adaptation with the famous song about the “impossible dream.” Clearly, my subconscious had taken those words much too literally.

  We filed into the dismal trailer once again. Alan looked us over and grinned, as though this workshop was a treat and we were lucky to be there.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “You’ve made it to Animus.”

  Great. How long do I have before you call me a whore?

  Like always, the workshop began with honor lists. Only this time we had to do them out loud. We stood in a circle for hours, going around and around, confessing our sins. Reaching Animus meant that after about eight months at Carlbrook, I was about to become an upper-school student. As such, my peer class and I were expected to be extra accountable for our bad behavior. Each time we confessed we had to come up with a punishment that fit the crime and would get us back into standard.

  I borrowed a pen from someone I was on bans with. I will go on bans with the entire school for a day to get back into standard.

  I talked about wishing I was eighteen so I could leave. I will make appointments with lower schoolers on programs who are struggling.

  I ate a piece of pizza while taking boxes to the dumpster. I will run crews for a night and be on cleaning duty in the dining mod.

  I wore pants knowing they were too tight. I will go on bans with boys for a week.

  We circled around again and again until there was truly nothing left to say. We had exhausted every possible infraction, copped to every rule that could be broken. Regardless, the staff and student supports still weren’t satisfied. They began to rail on us for lying, hurling accusations in every direction.

  “Hey, Lindy,” Alan said. “You’re looking really skinny these days. Are you throwing up again? Worried the boys won’t think you’re pretty if you get too big? Just like your dad always said would happen?”

  I looked at Lindy. She seemed to weigh what she always had. If anything, she’d gained a few pounds, another victim of the Great Starch Conspiracy.

  “I want to talk to Dash and Levi,” Monica said. “Pretty convenient that you’re right next to each other. Aren’t you always together, though? What’s that about? You aren’t plotting to run away or anything. Are you?”

  The boys shook their heads.

  “No way,” Levi said.

  “Well.” Monica was smirking. “Maybe there’s something more intimate going on. Is there any news you’d like to share with the group?”

  Monica called Conrad a thief. Alan called Rose a bitch. It went on like that for a while until everyone had a brand-new insult of their very own.

  When the exercise started losing steam, Alan switched gears. Music that I could describe only as triumphant played on the stereo.

  “It’s time to learn just what we’re fighting,” Alan said. “Is your life what you imagined? Are you everything you want to be? If you’re here, I’d say the answer to that question is no.”

  And to that, I’ll add “no shit.”

  “Let’s be knights,” Alan said. “Pick up your swords and fight for your lives.”

  He meant it. He actually wanted us to hold out imaginary swords.

  “Maya,” he said, “what are you fighting for? Yell out what you stand for.”

  “I stand for living,” she said.

  “Is that all you have? Louder!”

  “I STAND FOR LIVING!”

  Rose stood for being strong.

  Levi stood for honor.

  I stood for having a purpose.

  I’m not sure why I said that. I didn’t have much purpose at all. I was a lost kid with no direction and no dreams at all. Maybe deep down I longed for something to be passionate about, even if it meant tilting at windmills like Don Quixote.

  Suddenly, the door opened and a group of older students ran in. They seemed energized and excited to be there.

  “All right, Knights,” Alan said. “It’s time to battle. This is FIGHT NIGHT!”

  Alan went around the room giving everyone a fighter’s name. Charlotte was “Sucker Punch,” Conrad was “the Bomber,” and Maya became “Body Shot.”

  I was Elizabeth “Fights the Good Fight” Gilpin.

  More like Elizabeth “Ready to Give Up” Gilpin.

  Alan instructed us to lie on our backs. The supports handed everyone a towel. Fight Night was structured like a boxing match with three rounds lasting three minutes and fifty-eight seconds, the amount of time it took for “Eye of the Tiger,” from the movie Rocky, to play. There was no jabbing or throwing left hooks, only a pointless, incredibly painful exercise.


  It went like this: As soon as we heard those first notes kick in, we’d put the towels in our mouths. We simultaneously bit down and pulled up, creating tension like our jaws were about to pop out of their sockets. Of all the physical exercises we’d done, this was the most baffling. At least the Circle of Exclusion had a plausible metaphor to justify the violence. This was pain for pain’s sake.

  It was really fucking excruciating.

  The older kids were our “trainers.” They moved around, yelling at all of us one by one. Instead of advice or motivation, they were just assholes. Of course, Beatrice was leading the charge.

  “You call that a good fight, Elizabeth?” Beatrice said. “Pathetic. You might as well just give up now.”

  I pulled harder just to get her to leave me alone. Alan was really in his element. After three rounds he decided Brittany and Dash hadn’t tried hard enough so he made them do the exercise a fourth time. Halfway through, Dash sat up and promptly vomited on the floor.

  A look of absolute misery fell across his sweet face. He slumped over and put his head between his knees. Alan hunched down next to him. He put his hands on the boy’s thin shoulders and squeezed.

  “This is a breakthrough,” he said. “You should be proud.”

  Dash wasn’t proud, he was miserable. He was slumped over, totally defeated. He looked the way Don Quixote should have looked, if he hadn’t been such a goddamn fool.

  “It’s all part of the purge.” Alan was rubbing Dash’s back. “Your trauma was ready to move on, and pain leaves the body any way it can.”

  Alan didn’t waste any time getting started the next day. We were fighting for our lives, after all. Staff separated us into pairs for the next exercise, which was as simple as it was cruel. We were supposed to make statues out of our partners’ bodies, freezing them at their lowest point, the place they’d end up if they ignored the lessons of the workshop.

  We could put someone behind bars, we could hang a noose around her neck, we could stage a rape. The choice was all ours as long as it was something awful. Then we gave the statues corny names like “Falling Star” and “Snow Day.”