by Lisa Lee
“Mrs. Stout, you’re wanted at the Jasmine House,” said a stern voice, surprising us both. Mrs. Stout turn around, her displeasure obvious.
“I work at the Jade Vine House. This house.” She practically bit the words out.
“Not anymore, you don’t. Mr. Hyde says you’ve been transferred to the Jasmine House.” This statement came from a woman practically half the size of Mrs. Stout. She was pale white with salt-and-pepper hair cut short and gray eyes that looked hard as flint. Deep grooves bracketed her mouth, and lines radiated from her eyes. She wore a tailored navy skirt, with nude hose, navy flats, and an ivory blouse with a pin decorated with a flower at her collar.
“Why did I get transferred?” asked Mrs. Stout, one plump hand on a bulging hip. Her eyes were hard.
“Why, I have no idea. Why don’t you ask him?” the other lady replied. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a house to run.”
I glanced at Mrs. Stout. Her hands were clenched into fists. I had no doubt that if she thought she could get away with it, she would’ve physically assaulted the smaller woman. I shuddered a little at the thought. After a tension-fraught silence, she stepped around and stomped down the steps. I could feel a tension headache developing.
The other woman spoke, “Good morning, Miss Edwards. I’m Mrs. Flint. I’m now the head of the Jade Vine House at the school. You’ll learn all about the different houses and school rules at orientation. I won’t bore you with the details now. How was your first night?”
Now, how was I supposed to answer that question? I struggled to find an answer that wouldn’t offend.
“It was fine, ma’am,” I eventually managed to say, but it came out more like a question than an answer.
“Really?” she queried, one black eyebrow raised. “We’ll talk more later. You’d better get down to the dining hall.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, and she walked on. I wondered what was at the end of the long hallway, and then I belatedly realized I didn’t know where to find the dining hall. I hurried down the stairs, figuring my nose would lead me in the right direction. I ran into Bethany and Kaitlyn at the bottom of the stairs where Kaitlyn was retying her shoelaces and Bethany was both tapping her foot in impatience and biting her nails.
“Good, you’re here,” Kaitlyn said. “What did Mrs. Stout say?”
“Nothing to me. Mrs. Flint told her she got moved to one of the other houses, the Jasmine House,” I replied.
Both Kaitlyn and Bethany looked at me with wide eyes, and then Kaitlyn laughed. “Well, what do you know. Mrs. Stout is out.”
I thought I saw a small smile by Bethany, but it was so fleeting I could have been imagining things. I wondered why it was so great that Mrs. Stout was out.
“Let’s talk later,” Bethany whispered.
We had arrived at the dining hall. The smell of hot food made my stomach realize it had not eaten in a while. At the same time, I felt nervous when all heads turned toward the three of us. I lowered my gaze and let Kaitlyn and Bethany hurry me over to one of the tables.
There were two long tables parallel to each other which were packed with girls, maybe forty or so at each table. They were all quiet and sitting with their backs straight, looking composed. There was a third table on the other side of the entryway to the dining hall which sat on some sort of raised platform. It seemed to be where the adults sat. The wall behind the adults’ table had three ceiling-to-floor posters of the school logo, the shiny seahorse with mesmerizing metallic colors and hair a glossy blue-black against swirling sea-greens and blues. The image was surprisingly hard to look away from. The center of the rug and ceiling had duller replications of the seahorse in their respective centers, surrounded by interlocking patterns of black, gray, and white squares. The wall that faced the outside of the building had four sets of slender side-by-side heavy black doors that were open so fresh air floated through. I could see the greenery outside.
I tried not to let my nervousness show as I looked around. The girls at the other table seemed slightly older than the girls at my table. Grandmotherly-looking ladies in uniform black knit dresses served us a breakfast of freshly squeezed orange juice, spinach cheese omelets, cubed potatoes, red grapes, and buttered whole wheat toast. After Mrs. Flint said grace, everyone started eating and talking. The food was delicious in my mouth but settled uneasily in my stomach.
These girls were not like the girls I knew. They seemed to be without flaw. There were no pimples, braces, or awkward hairstyles. They gleamed with something I did not have. They were also polite. No one stared unduly long at my bruised face. If anything, the glances were sympathetic, but no one seemed surprised.
At home, everyone would have exclaimed in dismay and offered ice packs or something. I felt homesick for the comfort of knowing I belonged, that my world was settled. I was not sure I could ever possibly fit in here. And something tugged at the back of my mind, something else that worried me, but I couldn’t bring it to the forefront of my mind, it being so crowded already with worries.
A bell rang, announcing the end of breakfast. Mrs. Flint stood to make announcements.
“Good day, ladies,” she began.
“Good day, Mrs. Flint,” everyone responded except me, but I hoped no one noticed my mistake.
“Mrs. Stout will be working with the Jasmine House from now on and will no longer be in the Jade Vine House. Unfortunately, we were not able to have a proper goodbye party for Mrs. Stout, as she needed to start right away at her new house,” Mrs. Flint continued. I noticed a few of the girls seemed to be fighting smiles. No one seemed sad she had moved on.
“Also, I would like to announce that Eden Edwina Edwards has joined us today. Eden is a first-year student. Please give her a warm welcome.”
Everyone clapped and smiled at me. I felt my cheeks flush and my throat constrict as I smiled back.
Another bell rang, and the girls around me began to get up to go to their first class. On her way out, Kaitlyn whispered that she and Bethany would try to catch up with me during the free hour. I nodded in agreement, even though I didn’t know what time free hour started.
As I tried to figure out how to find the Mrs. Grey with whom I was supposed to have orientation, I saw one of the few remaining teachers stand and walk over to me. She seemed younger than the other teachers. Her light tan skin was still smooth, and her demeanor was less stern than the others.
“You must be Eden,” she said, smiling and holding out her hand for me to shake. Her voice had a slight accent which I couldn’t place.
“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, surprising myself by smiling back.
“I’m Mrs. Grey. Let’s go to my office, and we’ll see what needs to be done.”
Her office was larger than I expected, with space for a small round table, bookshelves on one wall, and a warm chocolate leather sofa. There was a tall, clear vase of pink roses on her desk and a round, squat vase of yellow roses on the table. Pictures and drawings of flowers had been framed and hung here and there.
Instead of sitting at her desk, Mrs. Grey indicated that we should sit at the round table. Mrs. Grey sat with her legs crossed and her upper body leaning forward, placing a small electronic notepad on the table.
“Eden,” she began, “first, welcome to our lovely school. I know that the journey here is always miserable, but it is for the best, is it not?”
I nodded in confused agreement. How was this arrangement for the best?
Mrs. Grey smiled at me and picked up the electronic notepad. While she was engaged with it, I looked around her office, noticing how nicely decorated it was in comparison to my room. I wondered if the teachers lived on campus and what their rooms were like. I hoped my thoughts were not envious.
“I know,” Mrs. Grey said, startling me. I hadn’t been aware she was observing me. “Your rooms are dreary. But the school feels the Spartan rooms make you girls more appreciative of your new homes once you leave the school.”
“Don’t we go back home?” I as
ked, tilting my head to the side.
Mrs. Grey’s fingers started tapping the table. “Eden, you do understand what we do at this school, don’t you?” she asked.
It’s a school. It’s not that hard to figure out. “You educate girls so they can be in the ten percent who can attend a university,” I stated, but with a questioning lilt at the end, rethinking my assumption as I spoke it.
Mrs. Grey just looked at me for a moment and then asked, “Is that what you’d like to do, go to a university?”
“Yes, ma’am. I would like to major in world languages,” I replied. Learning new languages was not hard for me, and I enjoyed reading books in their original language if I could. I had always imagined doing missionary work when I grew up, and I knew speaking multiple languages would be helpful.
“Ok. I see you have some misunderstandings,” said Mrs. Grey. “You are correct that only girls who score in the top ten percent on the college entrance exam can attend the women universities. All the other girls must be matched by their pastor if they haven’t found someone on their own. Why do you want to be in the ten percent who don’t have to be married by eighteen?”
“I would like to do missionary work.”
Mrs. Grey just continued looking at me, waiting for me to expound. I didn’t. I just looked down at my hands.
“Do you want to be married?” Mrs. Grey asked.
“Of course,” I said, looking back up.
“You do know that to take the entrance exam, a woman has to be sponsored by a home inspector and someone from their city or town council?” she asked me gently.
I did not know this. “Are you sure? I thought everyone just did the test,” I said, not wanting to believe that my path to college could be hindered by the same Inspector Brown that was the reason for my presence here. But I realized that wasn’t the most important issue. “Why don’t we go home after we leave here? Wouldn’t my family want me back home?” I asked.
“Eden, the reason you were very publicly kidnapped in broad daylight was to get you out of the clutches of your chief home inspector without suspicion being cast on your family. Your Aunt Adeline is paying for your education with us.” Mrs. Grey paused and then continued. “You are off the radar now, and that’s a good thing. The bad news is that you will not be able to leave this campus for at least another four years. You will not see nor contact your family during this time. All electronic communications are monitored. Do you understand?” she asked.
I couldn’t speak for a moment. I wanted to throw myself on the floor and have a big temper tantrum, something I was never allowed to do at home. Mrs. Grey’s calm and sympathetic gaze just made me even angrier. I knew I had to rein in my emotions. I clenched my fists and jaw tight to hold everything in.
Finally, when I thought I could speak civilly, I said, “My mom said they—my parents—would visit me.” The quiver in my voice was slight, but I was sure Mrs. Grey noticed. I also remembered that my mom said no men were allowed at the school, yet Giovanni seemed to be an accepted presence.
“Yes, well, the school did a little digging into your situation, and we discussed with your parents that no contact would be better for your safety. They agreed.” Mrs. Grey did not look at me as she delivered this news.
The dam inside of me burst. I put my face in my hands and cried. Mrs. Grey sat patiently, and when my tears subsided, she handed me some delicately scented tissues. The scent made my nose twitch, and I started sneezing. Eventually, I recovered myself and looked at Mrs. Grey with watery eyes. I pressed my lips together firmly to keep from blubbering.
“I know this situation seems pretty dire, but what are your alternatives? If you stayed at home, your virtue would be taken by Inspector Brown, you’d get blamed for it, and your parents would have to kick you out of their home. You would eventually end up in Untouchable City. You can’t go to university. No one would sponsor you.”
My cheeks burned at her words. I hated how cavalierly she’d laid out my lack of options.
“But let’s look on the bright side,” she continued. “You’re blessed to have a family who pulled every string and every dollar they had to get you into our school. We consider ourselves a high school, which means you typically need to be fourteen to start, but based on your academic record, we think you can start now. You’ve only missed a little over a week of the school year. The school hopes that at the end of your four years here you will get married. If that happens, we will help you put together a good cover story for the last four years. If you are so unfortunate as to not secure a marriage proposal, then you will be placed as a companion to men who desire your company. This school graduates soon-to-be wives or companions. Not one of our graduates in our entire history has ever gone on to university. Ninety-five percent do get married, so it’s not a bad deal. And if your husband allows, you will finally get to see your family again,” she finished.
“How can I get married if I never leave the campus? Are there boys here?” I asked, thinking the question was stupid as soon as I asked. I couldn’t see my family for four years, and I was asking about boys?
“No, the marriages are arranged. The price for the arrangement is about two hundred thousand dollars plus expenses, so the men who marry our graduates are wealthy, if not rich. We only take girls for whom we are confident we can place in marriage. We already have several interested parties for you. All you have to do is study hard and do well, and everything should fall into place.”
“How would they know about me?” I asked, confused.
Mrs. Grey pushed a folder across the table to me. I opened it, to see a picture of myself sitting on a blanket at Sunny City Gardens while reading a book. There was short bio with my height, weight, blood type, and other information. I was described as a shy Christian girl.
I wasn’t sure I could contain my breakfast. My tension headache was throbbing, my lips pressed tight together, and I struggled not to embarrass myself any further.
“Tuition is only fifty thousand dollars for your entire four years with us. However, the cost per student is thirty-eight thousand per year, so the two hundred thousand dollars is how we recoup our cost. Once we receive the two hundred thousand dollars for you, we will reimburse your aunt for the tuition she paid.”
“What if I fail my courses?” I asked.
“Then there’s no reimbursement,” Mrs. Grey replied.
“I meant, what happens to me if I fail? Do I get sent home?”
“Actually, no. If you fail, there are no good options. You would be sent to one of the other houses,” Mrs. Grey replied. “However, I am sure you will do wonderfully well with us. There are a number of rules, and all of them are included in your orientation folder.” She pushed a glossy maroon folder across the table to me. “We expect all the Jade Vine girls to behave with discretion, decorum, self-respect, and exemplary behavior. Any breach of the rules can be grounds for expulsion from the house and reassignment to another house. Do you understand?”
“Not really. If I were to be expelled, why would I be sent to another house? Wouldn’t I just go home?” I asked.
Mrs. Grey’s smile tightened as she replied, “The Jade Vine House is the best house, the best option for girls like you. The other houses are strictly to prepare girls to become companions. Under no circumstances are you to associate with or speak to girls from those houses. The consequences for doing so are severe. They know, of course, not to speak to you as well.”
I didn’t know how to respond, so I just sat in shocked silence.
Mrs. Grey continued, “With respect to not speaking, it is also advised that you not speak of where you are from. The main asset of this school, besides you girls, is that its existence and location are completely secret from most. The teachers who work here are all sworn to secrecy. This is all, of course, to give you girls a new start in life. You can’t have a new life if you let everyone know all the details of your old life. Do you understand?”
I nodded, thinking I had already told Bethany
and Kaitlyn I was from Sunny City. Would that cause a problem? I wondered.
“Of course, I’m sure you will do well,” Mrs. Grey continued. “You’ll take Domestic Arts, The Art of Conversation, History, Household Budgeting, English, French, and Spanish. Domestic Arts is a two-hour course every day, Monday through Friday. The rest of the courses are between sixty and ninety minutes. You take the Art of Conversation on Saturday. Every other Saturday, you visit with a beauty specialist to help you learn the art of always looking your best. Quiet Bible study time is from five to six every evening.”
“We don’t go to a church?” I asked, my mind not focused on the class list.
“It’s against the law for women to teach biblical principles but not against the law for you to read the Bible yourself. Eden,” Mrs. Grey continued with just a hint of impatience, “we’ve been doing this for years. Trust me; we know what we’re doing.” She gave me a confident smile.
Mrs. Grey went to her desk and handed me an electronic notepad for taking notes. “The notepad is already set up with the books you’ll need for class. You can start tomorrow. If you need any more supplies, please don’t hesitate to ask me. Right now, I want you to go to the infirmary and have your bruises looked at. Mrs. Stout and her son, Giovanni, can be a little heavy-handed at times, yes?”
When I slowly nodded, she continued. “Lunch is optional today, but starting at dinner, you must attend every meal unless you’re excused by the nurse.”
At the infirmary, a brisk and efficient nurse applied salve to the bruises on my face, telling me I could apply it to other parts of my body myself, and gave me some medication to take for my headache. She offered her sofa if I wanted to take a nap.
I lay down more out of habit, as I was used to obeying. I didn’t think I would sleep. I must have been more tired than I thought, because I woke up almost three hours later and urgently had to use the washroom.
