Everly Academy

by V. B. Marlowe

  One of the cooks entered to refill a pitcher of orange juice, and the angry girl Molly assumed to be Isleen held her plate up. “Tabitha, I need a new plate. This food is cold.”

  Ms. Bea stuck her spoon into her oatmeal. “Tabitha will not be fixing you a new plate. You know very well what time breakfast is served, and if you choose to be late, that is your fault. The kitchen staff will not do extra work because of your self-centered shenanigans.”

  The girl glared at Ms. Bea like she hated her. “I will not eat this cold food, and Tabitha will make me another plate right now!”

  The other girls stopped eating and looked on. Molly looked to Bea to see what she was going to do next. She wondered how she would be expected to handle such an incident, and Molly wasn’t exactly sure what she would do. “She will not,” Bea replied calmly. “Tabitha, I apologize for her rudeness. You may return to the kitchen.”

  Tabitha nodded. “Yes ma'am,” she said before scurrying from the room, probably happy to be dismissed from this tug-o-war of power.

  Isleen, still holding her plate, dropped it onto the beautiful oak table, making all the dishes shake and sending food in several directions.

  “Come on, Izzy,” said the redhead. Isleen ignored her, scowling and folding her arms over her chest.

  Just then, strangled screams traveled down the hallway. What now? Molly thought. Everyone went back to eating as the screams got louder and louder. Clearly this was also a regular occurrence. Molly was suddenly wondering what she had gotten herself into. Isleen, not worried about her cold food anymore, seemed to take notice of Molly for the first time. “Oh, the new teacher’s here. Don’t worry. That’s just Allison. She’s insane.”

  “She’s not insane,” said the doll-like girl with the golden curls.

  Isleen rolled her eyes and pointed in the direction of the noise. “What would you call that?” She looked at Molly again. “Clearly, the girl is mad.” A man dressed in all white wheeled a screaming girl into the dining room. She was in a wheelchair and constrained with a straitjacket. A lump rose in Molly’s throat. Was this a school or a mental health facility? She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  The man in white wheeled the screaming girl to the empty place with no chair. She gnashed her teeth at the girls sitting on either side of her, but she couldn’t reach them. They calmly went about eating their food.

  “Not to worry,” Ms. Bea said. “She’ll be just fine after she takes her medicine.”

  Isleen scoffed. “Please. Allison is never just fine.”

  The screaming girl’s wild blond hair was a tangled mess, and her eyes were wild and aimless. Molly couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. A woman from the kitchen staff brought out a tray with a glass of water. The man in white pulled an orange bottle from his pocket and poured some pills into his hand. Then he held Allison’s head back, tossed the pills into her opened mouth, and forced the water down. Molly was afraid the poor girl would choke. She waited on the edge of her seat for someone to stop the madness, but it went on.

  Allison continued to scream and writhe for a few more moments, then a calmness seemed to take over her. The man in white removed her straitjacket and the cook brought her a bowl of cereal. The tan girl with the long braid helped feed her while the girl in the bikini smoothed down her hair. Molly wanted to eat the rest of her breakfast, but after all that confusion, she could only manage to push the food around on her plate.

  Ms. Bea pushed her plate away and stood. “Well, breakfast was eventful as usual. Ms. Dillinger, will you come with me and Ms. Halifax to fill out some paperwork? Girls, you will meet Ms. Dillinger in the main study in thirty minutes. Be on time and on your best behavior. We don’t want to scare her off on her first day.”

  “Yes, Ms. Bea,” the girls replied before rising to leave the table. The girl in the bikini wheeled Allison away.

  “Let’s go to my office,” Ms. Bea said.

  Her office was located on the first floor. It was just as stunning as the rest of the house with its tall ceilings engraved with intricate details. On her walls were gold-framed paintings of each of the girls. Ms. Bea sat behind her desk and gestured for Molly to take a seat in the chair in front of her desk. Ms. Halifax rifled through a metal file cabinet.

  Ms. Bea opened the top drawer of her desk and handed Molly a red file folder. “Standard new employee paperwork. We’ll also need a drop of your blood.”

  “Blood? Why?” Just the sound of the word was enough to make Molly squeamish.

  “Your physical,” Ms. Halifax answered even though Molly hadn’t asked her. “We will test your blood to make sure you’re healthy. It’s for everyone’s safety.”

  Molly had never had to give blood for a job before, but then again, this job wasn’t like any other, so she figured it was okay. Ms. Halifax slid her hands into a pair of blue latex gloves and grabbed Molly’s right hand. She stretched out her fingers and then pricked Molly’s middle finger with a needle so tiny Molly had barely seen it. She thought it was a thumbtack. She jumped at the tiny pinch and then closed her eyes as a few drops of her blood were pulled up into the short syringe.

  Ms. Halifax wrapped her finger with a Band-aid. “See, nothing to whine about.” She handed her a pen, and Molly filled out her paperwork.

  The two women watched Molly as she worked, making her feel a bit uneasy. Once Molly had gotten through the paperwork, she realized there had been no mention of pay. “I should have asked this before, but what’s the salary?”

  Ms. Bea raised an eyebrow as if she were surprised by the question. Molly wondered if she had asked in the wrong way. How else was she supposed to say it? Then Ms. Bea smiled, and Molly relaxed.

  “How much would you like to make?”

  Molly had done her research, and she knew the average starting salary for a teacher in Pennsylvania was forty-six thousand dollars a year. Her father had always taught her that when she was negotiating her salary that she should start off with asking for more than she wanted. “Um, fifty thousand a year.” As soon as the words had left her mouth, Molly wished she could take them back. She was being greedy, especially since her room and board were already taken care of by the school. Ms. Bea would probably scoff at the number.

  Instead, the headmistress scribbled something on a notepad. “Fifty thousand. You got it.”

  Molly’s jaw dropped. “Really?”

  Ms. Bea nodded. “Yes. I think that’s fair.”

  Molly sat back in her seat, pleased with herself.

  By the time she was done, she had to meet the girls in the great study, and Molly was more nervous than she had ever been.

  Ms. Bea seemed to know exactly what was going through her mind. “I know this is probably not the situation you imagined, but I promise you it’s not as bad as it looks.”

  “Well honestly, I wasn’t expecting a girl who climbed on rooftops or another in a straitjacket, but it’s not anything I can’t handle.” Molly didn’t believe those words at all, but she knew they were the words she and Ms. Bea needed to hear. She needed Bea to believe that she could handle the job. “Is there anything else I should know?”

  Ms. Bea thought for a moment and then shook her head. “Everything you need to know you’ll learn from the girls themselves. They are very honest and outspoken. Despite how crazy things may seem right now, you will love them. I promise.”

  Molly believed that as she left the office and made her way to the great study. This was going to be her first real one-on-one interaction with the girls, and it could very well determine how the rest of the year went. Molly thought back to everything she had learned in her college classes—things like “Don’t smile until December. You have to put your foot down on the first day or you will lose their respect.” Molly had decided to put all that to the side. She was going to talk to the girls as if she were their friend. She realized that might end up being a big mistake, but she thought it was the best way to bond with them, and once she had their trust, she could teach them anythin
g.

  As Molly walked, she thought about her first semester of law school. It didn’t work out because Molly wasn’t a shark. She wasn’t sure what she was—she was still figuring that out, but she knew she wasn’t a shark. She did know that she loved teaching and nurturing young people, so this was a job that she couldn’t screw up.

  Molly paused with her hand wrapped around the cold doorknob. From inside came the murmur of voices, but she couldn’t make out anything that was being said. She wondered if they were talking about her. What had been their first impression of her from breakfast? She must have looked like a deer in headlights. She couldn’t do that again. She had to be bold and assertive. It was bad enough she looked the same age as the girls, but she had to find a way to be their friend and establish her place as their superior.

  “Molly, you can do this. On the count of three. One, two, three.” She forced herself to push the door open and walk inside.

  The room fell silently immediately as all the girls turned their attention to her. Molly closed the door behind her. The great study wasn’t what she had been expecting at all. She thought she’d see desks in straight rows although that had been silly of her. Ms. Bea had already warned her that this was an untraditional school.

  An armchair sat at the front of the room, but the girls were scrawled across comfy sofas or they lay on beanbags scattered on the floor. Molly loved the relaxed atmosphere. Her students weren’t confined to chairs set behind desks in straight rows. She remembered how Ms. Lowell, her second-grade teacher, had always let them lounge on the carpet during story time. That had always been her favorite part of the day. The walls in the study weren’t filled with bulletin boards lined with apple borders and decorated with cliched motivational posters. Instead, there were paintings in large words in different languages that Molly would have to look up later. She settled into the armchair and took a good look at the girls. “Well, as you know, I’m Ms. Dillinger, and I’ll be your new teacher. Today we’re just going to talk and get to know each other.”

  By that time, Allison was seated calmly on the floor in front of the sofa. The tan-skinned girl sat behind her, brushing her hair. The others sat up, watching Molly expectantly. “So, let’s start with your names.”

  It had always been Molly’s fear that she would have trouble memorizing the names of thirty students per class period, but there would be no excuse for her not being able to learn the names of ten girls. They went around the room taking turns introducing themselves. The girl in the tiara who had caused the production at breakfast spoke first. “I’m Isleen Mancotti.”

  “Yeah, but we call her Izzy,” the redhead interjected.

  Isleen narrowed her eyes at her. “I hate that name.”

  “That’s why we do it,” said the doll-like girl. Isleen pouted and looked as if she were going to say something else, so Molly decided to defuse the situation before it actually became a situation.

  “Isleen is a beautiful name. It’s nice to meet you.” Then she focused on the redhead. “What’s your name?”

  “Scarlett Rodgers.”

  “Nice to meet you, Scarlett.” Scarlett had a medium build and height. She wore an olive-green shirt underneath a brown vest, a pair of ripped jeans, and brown boots that appeared to be for hiking.

  The girl with the long brown hair and high cheekbones spoke next. “My name is Jolie. It’s French for pretty.” Jolie wore a short red jumper with wedge sandals, showing off her long legs.

  “Hello, Jolie. I would say you were appropriately named,” Molly said. Isleen groaned, but Molly ignored her. She predicted she would be doing a lot of that. The girl in the bikini introduced herself as Marina. Molly wondered why the girl was dressed for a day at the beach. If the headmistresses had said nothing about it, clearly it was allowed, but she had to ask. “Um, why are you wearing a bikini?”

  Marina studied the glittery aqua polish on her nails, which matched her bathing suit. “I swim all the time. It’s my thing so there’s no point in changing in and out of my clothes all day.” She raised an eyebrow. “Does it bother you? I can throw a t-shirt over it when I come to class if it does.”

  Molly shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I was just curious.”

  The girl in the pink fancy dress and long intricate braids was seated beside Isleen on the couch. “I’m Tress Barrett.” She had the lightest, sweetest voice Molly had ever heard.

  “Hello, Tress. May I say that I love your hair?” It made Molly miss her long hair for a second and then the feeling faded.

  The girl blushed and ducked her head. “Thank you.”

  The girl with the round face was named Gretchen. The floral-printed shift dress she wore fit snugly on her body. Gretchen introduced Allison even though Molly already knew her name. Although Allison was calm, her bright blue eyes stared off at something in the distance. She wore wrinkled pajamas with tiny unicorns on them. Molly thought it was a much better look than the straitjacket.

  “My name is Oriana,” said the doll-like girl. “It means golden sunrise. You can call me Ori.” It was only fitting that she wore a pink-and-white polka-dotted baby-doll dress.

  “Oriana,” Molly repeated, “another beautiful name.”

  “I’m Drusilla,” said the girl with the mahogany skin and the bright eyes. “Everyone calls me Dru.” Dru looked like she was ready for a day in the sun in a simple yellow tee, a pair of denim shorts, and gold flip-flops. Her t-shirt read, Never trust an atom. They make up everything.

  Molly grinned at the pun on her shirt. “Nice to meet you, Dru.” She looked at the tan-skinned girl who was brushing Allison’s hair. She was also dressed simply in a sky-blue spaghetti-strapped top, white jeans, and no shoes. “And last but not least . . .”

  The girl stopped brushing and looked at Molly. “Lily. My name is Lily. Now that we’ve got all that out of the way, it’s time for you to tell us who you are, Ms. Dillinger.”

  5

  The girls stared at Molly, beautiful and wide-eyed. This was her make-or-break moment. What she said next might make the girls want to get to know her, or might turn them off completely. “Okay. My name is Molly Dillinger. I was born and raised in southern Pennsylvania. I graduated from Fennington University a few months ago with a degree in Secondary English Education and a minor in Math Education.”

  “You just graduated, so this is your first teaching job?” Isleen asked.

  Molly knew that wasn’t the type of thing a teacher wanted to broadcast. Some students might see that as their opportunity to take advantage of a rookie teacher, but she’d been asked and she didn’t want to lie. She would never gain their trust that way, and she hated being lied to. “Yes, it is.”

  “How old are you?” Marina asked. “You look young.”

  “I’m twenty-three.” The girls nodded, and Molly wondered what they thought about that. She was only five years older than some of them.

  Marina crawled closer to Molly and took her hand, which still brandished a fresh Band-aid. “You’re not married?”

  Molly shook her head. “No, not yet.”

  Marina frowned. “Why not?”

  “Well, as I said, I’m only twenty-three. I’m still finding myself and trying to get my career on track before I think about settling down with anyone.”

  Marina looked dumbfounded. “Where I come from, you would have been married years ago.”

  “Years ago?” Molly figured Marina couldn’t have been any older than seventeen. “Where do you come from?”

  Marina opened her mouth to answer, but Isleen cut her off. “If you’re not married, then surely you have a boyfriend. Tell us about him.”

  Although Molly was new to this job, common sense told her it wasn’t a good idea to start her first day off with a grim story about how her ex-fiancé had cheated on her with her ex-best friend. “I’m not dating anyone right now. Just focusing on my career.”

  “What happened to your hair?” Tress asked.

  Self-consciously, Molly ran her fingers thro
ugh her short curls. “Nothing happened to it. I just decided to cut it short. I needed a change.”

  “Is that why you don’t have a boyfriend?” Tress asked. Even though the question sounded rude, Tress’s tone and facial expression were quite innocent. She was honestly asking.

  Before Molly could tackle that question, Jolie asked another. “Where did you get your dress? I really like it.”

  “Oh, from the mall near my house.”

  The girls sat up straighter. “The mall!” Drusilla said, her voice dripping with eagerness. “Tell us more about the mall.”

  The girls stared at Molly as if she were about to drop the juiciest tidbit of gossip. What was so special about the mall? Molly wondered. These were teenage girls. Surely they spent plenty of weekends there. Still, Molly answered Dru’s question. “Okay. The mall in Wellington is my favorite. There are three floors, and there’s even a movie theater. All the stores where I get most of my clothes are there as well as the nail shop where I get my manicures. I suspect I will be spending a great deal of time there once I get my first paycheck.”

  Isleen coughed as if something had gone down the wrong pipe. “At the mall? You think you’re going to the mall?”

  Molly frowned at the strange question. “Sure. When I have time off on the weekends. Why not?”

  The girls grew quiet and exchanged looks, leaving Molly to wonder what she had said wrong. What was wrong with going to the mall? “What is it? Am I missing something?”

  Isleen gave Molly a half smile and shook her head. “She hasn’t told you, has she?” She even looked a tad bit sympathetic, but Molly had no idea why.

  “Who hasn’t told me what?”

  “The old woman. She hasn’t told you the truth about this place.”

  Now Molly was slightly frightened although she did her best not to show it. She assumed the old woman Isleen referred to was Ms. Bea. “What are you talking about?”