by Bret Schulte
“This is an exciting time for all of us. You are the first group of students to pass through these halls. You will be the standard for all other students who follow. And we are the first faculty and staff to teach at Miller’s Grove Academy. We will be travelers on this grand new adventure together,” Principal Shepherd said.
“While many of you will be with us for several years, sadly you seniors will only be here for a single year. In that time we shall try our best to get to know each and every one of you and make sure you are fully prepared for the big wide world beyond-“
Thump. Thump.
Principal Shepherd turned from the crowd to face the source of the thumping noise coming from somewhere offstage. Sam swore she saw the Principal frown for a split second before returning to her big toothy grin.
“And now, I would like to introduce you all to our, uh, benefactor and the Dean of Futuro University, Dr. Alistair Futuro,” she said as she stepped away from the podium.
The whispering stopped the instant Dean Futuro appeared on stage.
Sam had never seen anything like this man before. Dean Futuro had to be over ninety years old, possibly a hundred. He was horribly hunched over, relying on a cane to move around. The cane was slim and black; it sparkled with many gems and made a surprisingly loud thump on the stage as he approached the podium. His dark blue suit hung loosely on his skinny body. Sam had never seen a suit jacket with tails in real life. Combined with the top hat that sat atop his wispy white hair, he reminded Sam of a circus ringmaster or an elderly, broken-down Willy Wonka. Although, judging by his beaklike nose and beady dark eyes, she doubted he had ever been nearly as nice as Gene Wilder or as gorgeous as Johnny Depp.
Principal Shepherd clearly didn’t know what to do. Part of her seemed to want to help Dean Futuro somehow and part of her wanted to stay as far away from him as possible. In the end she just wound up standing there with her arms out--ready to catch him if he fell--and then sat down when he reached the podium safely.
Dean Alistair Futuro surveyed the silent crowd from under his wooly white eyebrows. No one made a sound.
“Look at the person on your left,” he said in a cold, commanding voice. Sam looked to her left, as did a surprising number of the other students. “Now look to your right. One or both of these people will not make it to graduation.”
A murmur of disbelief and anger roiled around the auditorium. Sam saw one dark-haired boy three rows away who was smiling and nodding happily as he looked around at the other shocked students as if counting to himself which students were destined to dropout. He locked eyes with Sam. He smiled even bigger as he pointed at her and waggled his eyebrows. Sam looked away.
“You have been told that you are here because you are special, that you are exceptionally talented in some manner. You need to be aware that everyone in the world is talented in some way and that you in fact are not special. All you are, every one of you, is lucky. Lucky that we started this new school and needed a few warm bodies to fill it. From this point on, the world will not be beating a path to your door. From here on out you must fend for yourselves.”
Heads turned and mouths fell open across the room. As far as orientation speeches went it had to be the worst--not that Sam knew any others to compare it to, but still, it had to be way down the list. Sam half expected someone to get up and storm out. No one did, though.
Slowly, a stunned Principal Shepherd got up from her chair. “Uh yes, thank you Dean…”
Dean Futuro waved her off with his cane. Principal Shepherd sat back down, looking like a scolded child.
Dean Futuro continued. “I must also remind you that Academy students are not allowed to prowl around on University property without faculty supervision. I insist on the strictest of security and anyone found skulking about will be dealt with harshly. That is all.”
The auditorium was utterly silent except for the thumping of Dean Futuro’s cane on hard wood as he turned and slowly walked away. No one seemed to breathe again until he had finally disappeared offstage.
Sure, he was massively creepy and severely overdramatic, but he had raised an interesting point in his extremely brief speech. Everyone else in the room had been selected to be here because they were good at something, supergood, but Sam was here because her family had been good at things. Sam suddenly realized that she was officially the least talented person in the room. She often felt this way, but it was entirely different to know it for sure.
“Yes, thank you, Dean Futuro, those certainly were, uh, inspiring words,” Principal Shepherd said, now back at the podium.
“I want to assure all of you that we are here to help you become the leaders of tomorrow. Over the next few months I am sure there will be many things we will learn from each other, and I want you all to know that you are welcome to come to me, Vice Principal Hernandez, or your Resident Advisors about any questions, concerns, or problems you may have,” she said, eliciting a new batch of giggles and whispers from the crowd.
As frighteningly overcheery as Principal Shepherd was, Vice Principal Hernandez was the exact opposite. His unwavering steel gaze made sure that everyone in the room knew to stay away from his office at all costs. Sam figured she would have to be on fire and missing three of her four limbs before she approached Vice Principal Hernandez for help.
“Now then, I suspect that you are all excited to check out your rooms, unpack, and meet your new roommates. As you all, no doubt, have already discovered, your dorm assignments and class schedules are included in your information packets; as well as a map of campus, but if you have any questions please do not be shy in asking. Now if you will all kindly file out of the auditorium in an orderly fashion we can all get settled in,” Principal Shepherd said cheerfully.
Sam trudged along with the crowd until she got outside. The annoying boy who had locked eyes with her was standing in the middle of the stream of kids waiting for her. He had a confident smirk that made her hate him immediately.
“I guess they’ll let just anyone in here,” he said.
“What is your deal?” she asked coldly.
“Rude. I see you’re living up to your side of the family’s reputation.” His smile grew. He knew he had just thrown her for a loop.
“What do you know about my family?” she demanded.
“More than you do, cuz,” he said. “I’m Zack McQueen.”
Sam didn’t know much about the McQueens other than that they hated the Hathaways so much that they cut off all contact with her mother and never bothered to check on Sam after her parents died. She didn’t need to know anything else.
“Maybe I’ll fill you in a little sometime,” he said. “If you last long enough.”
He slipped into the crowd, leaving Sam confused and standing in people’s way.
Sam looked at the packet in her hands. The third page had a map and had her room number on it, but she couldn’t dare pull the map out in front of all the supersmart kids and let them know that she was lost. She casually made her way over to a bench next to a clump of perfectly manicured bushes away from the other students. Sam held the packet loosely and at a downward angle so that the first few pages appeared to accidentally slip out and fall onto the bench. She made a big show of being annoyed as she scooped up the loose pages, but she kept the map on the top of the pile so she could study it in secret as she collected the rest of the pages.
“Smile for the camera!”
She looked up to find two boys with a microphone and a video camera peering at her.
“What the heck are you doing?” she asked.
“Hi, I’m Sick,” the taller of the two boys, and the one with the microphone, said. “This is Wrong. We’re looking for people to interview for our new show. Would you mind answering a few questions?”
The other boy, Wrong, which almost certainly was not his real name, held the camera. He was also bopping along to some song playing through the earbuds of his iPod. Sam couldn’t tell if he was disinterested, rude, or just really go
od at multi-tasking.
“What show?”
“Oh, we are starting a new show for the school’s television station. The Sick and Wrong Show,” Sick said with a big dopey grin.
“Ah, well, that’s pretty cool then. When will it be on?” Sam asked.
“We haven’t really set that up yet,” Sick admitted with a shrug. “We need to put together our demo tape first. So you can be the first person immortalized on our show. Ready?”
Normally Sam would have passed on their offer in an instant. She really didn’t need to embarrass herself on television. But it occurred to her that maybe this would be a good chance to introduce herself to the rest of the school.
After all, you get bonus cool points just for being on TV, right?
“All right, ask away,” Sam said, hoping for the best.
Sick looked almost surprised for a moment, as if no one had ever agreed to be interviewed by him before. Wrong steadied the camera on his shoulder while Sick thrust the microphone at Sam.
“Okay then, uh, what is your name?” Sick asked.
“Oh, I’m Sam, Samantha Hathaway.” She stopped, not sure what to say next. But she kept her smile glued on.
“Right, uh, so tell us about yourself, Sam,” Sick said, clearly searching for questions. “Where are you from?”
“Presley, Illinois,” Sam answered. She nervously brushed her hair behind her right ear.
“So, Dean Alistair Futuro, pompous windbag, or creepy undead loser?” Sick asked.
Sam smiled as she thought about that. “Are those my only options? I’d have to go with creepy undead loser.”
“And what talent or gift has brought you to this fine establishment where your gift or talent is meaningless and you must fend for yourself?” Sick asked.
“I don’t really know,” Sam answered honestly. “Nothing really.”
“Good for you. You might be the only one here who isn’t hobbled by their own greatness,” Sick said matter-of-factly. “Well, let’s get to know you better. Any hobbies? Juicy gossip? Nasty break up stories?”
“Getting a little personal, aren’t we, camera boy?” a girl said next to Sam.
Sam hadn’t even known the girl was there until she spoke. She was a slim and tall African-American girl with her hair pulled back in long intricate braids that instantly made Sam jealous.
Sick made a great show of bowing as he spoke. “I humbly beg your pardon for any offense.”
“Um, that’s fine.” Sam said.
“You are too kind.” Sick turned his microphone on the new girl. “Would you like to be interviewed for our show too?”
“Check it out,” Wrong said, pointing over Sam’s shoulder.
A crowd of very excited students formed around the doors to the auditorium. Four very serious-looking campus security guards came out and shooed the students back, making room for someone.
“It’s Tiffany Summers!” Sick yelled.
It actually was Tiffany Summers, the younger sister of mega pop star Monica Summers. No doubt she was the one that arrived in the helicopter.
“Why is she here?” Sam asked. “I honestly thought I was the least talented person here. All she does is ride her sister’s coattails. Just because her sister can sing doesn’t mean she-”
Before Sam could finish her sentence Sick and Wrong took off towards the crowd, camera and microphone ready.
“Well, that got rid of those guys anyway,” the girl said, holding out her hand. “I’m Tasha, by the way. Or Natasha Beaumont if you’re really formal. Never Nat.”
Sam shook her hand. “Sam. Samantha Hathaway. Nice to meet you. Which dorm is yours?”
“Cooper Hall. You?”
“Really? Me too, that’s great,” Sam said excitedly. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to get there, would you?”
Tasha laughed. “I think so. It should be three buildings down and two over. Follow me.”
The first building they passed reminded Sam of a Greek temple, with its tall white columns; a statue of a woman in a toga wearing a war helmet with an owl on her right shoulder and a spear in her left hand stood guard in front as if the building could be attacked at any moment.
“This might be the weirdest place I’ve ever been,” Sam said.
“Oh I know,” Tasha said, pointing at a steel and glass building where every window was actually a transparent TV screen displaying a different famous painting. “I wasn’t really big on the whole private school thing, but it is already way cooler than the school back home. Plus it means I don’t have to work at my parents’ store after class anymore.”
“What kind of store?” Sam asked.
“They own a lumberyard back in Madrigal, Louisiana, where I’m from. It’s the biggest lumberyard in the area. It serves three whole counties. Oh, and it is the most boring place on Earth.”
The girls laughed.
“So I take it you don’t plan on following in the family business?” Sam asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Right now I’m just focusing on my gymnastics.”
“Going for that Olympic gold?” Sam asked seriously.
“Anything could happen,” Tasha replied, flicking a stray braid out of her face. “How about you? Your parents pushing you towards anything?”
Sam hated questions like this. Her answer always made people act different toward her.
“Not really, no. My parents died when I was nine.” There was the look of pity she knew so well. “My dad was an archaeologist and my mom was an anthropologist, but personally I don’t really find the idea of digging up a bunch of old pots that much fun.”
“I’m sorry. That must be rough.” Tasha’s eyes kept looking past Sam, not sure if it was safe to look at her.
“It is, but my godparents are pretty great.” Sam had learned over the years that this was the perfect response. Letting people know that she was part of a semi-normal family structure put people at ease.
“That’s good. ‘Family is family,’ as Grammy Beaumont would say.” Tasha said.
“I suppose so. They are the only real family I have left. Both of my parents were only children and my dad’s parents died before I was born.”
“What about your mom’s parents?” Tasha asked.
“Long story,” Sam said.
Tasha nodded her head in acknowledgement. And just like that, the topic was dropped. Which was good, because Sam wasn’t sure how she felt about this newly found cousin and didn’t want to talk about it.
“That’s not all bad. I have, like, six aunts and uncles on one side, two on the other. Twenty-one cousins last I counted.” She looked at the ground for just a split second as if she was still counting. ”Plus one brother.”
“Must be nice around Christmas time. Lots of presents.”
Sam imagined Tasha at one of those large family Christmases like in the TV commercials, with a big Christmas tree loaded with decorations, little kids sneaking away to shake the presents, and everyone retelling stories of Christmases past. It sure beat Sam, Helen, and Harold sitting around the apartment looking at their two-foot-tall plastic tree that came out of the box with the lights and decorations already attached.
“Are you kidding?” Tasha burst out. “More than thirty people trapped in a house with only two bathrooms. That is no one’s idea of a good time.”
Sam laughed. They had reached the dormitories.
Cooper Hall and Rosalyn Hall were on the east side of the complex. The two boys’ halls were on the west side, with the communal dining hall and lounge in the middle. The four dorms were identical, as far as Sam could tell. Each one was five stories tall and built of large red bricks. The cafeteria building was only one story high, but it was a stylish building lined with large bay windows.
They were going to have to weave their way through the buzzing swarm of students in various stages of moving in and parents saying their tearful goodbyes.
“I’m in room 320,” Tasha said. “How about you?”
Sam checked
her packet. “314.”
“Practically neighbors,” Tasha said. “It would have been funny if we’d wound up in the same room.”
“I know.” Sam considered. “You’re the only person I know here.”
“Likewise,” Tasha said. “Of course, we just got here.”
“Good point.”
“I suppose we should head up to see our new roomies,” Tasha said. “Besides, my parents are probably waiting for me to say goodbye again.”
Sam knew that Helen and Harold would have already left. They had flights to catch. But maybe she would run into her roommate’s family. That could be fun.
Sam tugged on the door handle. The door wouldn’t budge.
“You need your card,” Tasha said. “In your packet.”
Tasha swiped her card through the slot next to the door, and the door unlocked with a loud buzz.
“Like living in a hotel,” Sam said walking through the door.
“Hmm.” Tasha did not seem nearly as impressed. “I bet that thing keeps records of every time we open the door. So they can check on when we get in at night.”
That had not occurred to Sam, but it made sense. “I suppose so. They would probably get majorly sued if someone’s kid disappeared and they hadn’t been keeping watch.”
“I guess so.” Tasha eyed her keycard suspiciously.
Fortunately the dorms had elevators, so they could get to the third floor in no time.
They stepped out off the elevator into a wall of noise. Girls and parents were running everywhere, carrying boxes, TV sets, computers, reading lamps, and other essentials.
One of the girls in the room closest to the elevator was freaking out that she couldn’t find her favorite pair of shoes. Her very bored-looking father assured her that if she hadn’t brought them, he would send them to her. She didn’t seem at all satisfied with that answer, and she made sure everyone knew it by stomping her feet and sighing loudly and often.
“You don’t suppose it is going to be like this every day, do you?” Sam asked.
“Nah,” Tasha replied. “Once the parents are gone it will get really wild.”
Sam smiled at that, though inside she sort of worried if she would ever get a decent night’s sleep here. As an only child, she was not used to living with people who stayed up past Letterman. She needed quiet when she went to bed.
