by Lisa Lee
“Oh? Is there a special hell for royalty?” Brother Adam asked.
“You make no sense,” Gideon concluded. “Just tell me the rules. I thought you were supposed to instruct me on the rules of this place.”
“That is the first rule: treat everyone well,” Brother Adam stated.
“Ok, got it,” Gideon said as he turned away from Brother Adam, shaking his head, too aggravated to take a nap.
“The specific rules are written on the wall over there,” Brother Adam finished.
“What?” Gideon looked, and sure enough, on the opposite wall in large print were the seven temple rules. The first rule was not exactly as Brother Adam stated. It was “Love Everyone As You Love Yourself.”
“What if you don’t love yourself?” Gideon muttered under his breath and closed his eyes. He only meant to close them for a moment, but he slipped into sleep and a vision. A woman sat in a chair, slightly turned away from him so he could not fully see her face. She wore a pink dress, and her hair fell in dark gold ringlets down her back. Though her body was still, he could see her hands were knitting a red scarf. The unused yarn lay in a bundle beside her on the chair. Gideon recognized he was in the dream in the same room as she, but she didn’t acknowledge him. Finally, when the scarf was almost complete and there was little unused yarn left, she spoke.
“Go,” she said. “Be brave.”
“Private Li,” said a demanding voice, interrupting his dream.
“What now?” Gideon groaned as he came awake, propping himself on his forearm.
The man in front of him was tall and massively built, his face a dark brown and his hair completely shaved. Gideon had never seen the man smile during his year of military service after high school.
Gideon sat up fully and said, “Captain, it’s been a while. What’s going on?”
“By order of His Royal Highness, King Li, you have been ordered to resume active duty in the Seahorse Island Military,” the captain said.
“Why did you call me private?” Gideon asked. He had ended his military service as a second lieutenant.
“You’ve been demoted, and I’ve cleared your leaving with medical here,” the captain replied. “I’m sorry about your nephew, but my orders were to get you on a base and active as soon as possible.”
“My nephew?” Gideon asked as he stood, noting the four soldiers who stood ramrod straight behind the captain.
The captain grunted. “Your nephew was born this morning but didn’t live long.”
Gideon reached for the captain as he swayed at the news. Remembering himself, he dropped his hands and slowly held himself upright. Feeling as though he was held together by frayed twigs, he opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He took a breath and tried again. “I’m ready, sir.”
The double doors to the infirmary blew open as Luke and James came running in. Both men came to an abrupt halt as they took in the soldiers.
SEVEN
Eden, Halfway There
“I can’t believe we’re in the upper classes now!” Kaitlyn practically bounced on my hard bed in her excitement. Her hair was sectioned off with big rollers designed to grip hair without pins. With all her bouncing, the rollers were losing their grip and starting the inevitable slide.
Bethany just rolled her eyes and continued with her manicure.
It was the night before our third year officially started. The three of us were sitting in my cramped room, talking about the new school year and getting ourselves ready for the next day. Kaitlyn had a green detoxifying mask on her face that was still wet enough to allow her to talk freely. I was combing my long tangled wet hair into smaller sections, applying hair oil, and then braiding it. The oil application and braiding would cut down on the frizz so I could take my hair down in the morning and place it in a relatively smoother ponytail bun.
For early September, the air was hot and humid, but the sky was blanketed by ponderous gray clouds that signaled heavy rain to come. I had opened the window to let in some air, but rivulets of sweat continued to pour down my face and body, making my scratchy nightgown stick uncomfortably to my skin. It would have been better to open my door to get more air circulating and alleviate the almost overwhelming smell of leave-in conditioner, nail polish, and Kaitlyn’s green-apple-scented facial mask. The closed door, however, prevented other girls on the floor from hearing our conversation. I kept my fingers crossed that miniature cameras or recorders weren’t hidden in our rooms. As third-years, we had been moved to slightly bigger rooms on the fourth floor.
“What’s so exciting about being in a higher grade?” Bethany asked. “We’re still in the same place, and we’re one step closer to having to share a bed with some old-as-dirt croaker or some other pervert who can’t get a woman except by buying her.”
I winced, but I couldn’t deny the truth of Bethany’s words. Our first two years at the school, we had spent hours thinking of reasons why someone would pay two hundred thousand dollars to marry a girl when there were plenty of nice marriageable girls around without the huge price tag. Why was finishing this high school a requirement?
Bethany and I could see no similarities among the girls at school, who ranged from short to tall, from pale white to deep brown, from a little scatter-brained to scary smart. But we knew there had to be a reason for us to be at the Joseph Hyde School for “Exceptional” Girls. Otherwise, why did it matter that Rosemary had switched with someone else?
I had an underlying nagging feeling that we were unaware sheep being groomed for some horrific slaughter. How could I be sure that marriage was the actual plan for me or any of the other girls? Alumnae did not come back to visit the school, and staff were very mum on what happened to girls once they left. I agreed with Bethany that the true reasons for us being at the school, whatever they were, weren’t cause for much excitement.
Kaitlyn disagreed. “You don’t know that our future husbands will be horrible people. Anyway, we’ll find out this year, right?”
Starting in their third year, girls whose bios had secured them an intended husband started exchanging letters with said intended in hopes that such correspondence would lessen the weirdness of going from being a schoolgirl to being a wife for a heretofore unseen male. Kaitlyn found the idea of letter writing to her intended hugely romantic. Bethany hated the whole idea. She said she wanted two more years of peace before she had to deal with a husband. I was in an even stranger position. Apparently, I had an intended, but he didn’t want to correspond until I was close to graduation.
I remained ambivalent about the whole marriage thing. I wanted to eventually get married and have children, but the lack of choice chafed more than a bit. Seriously, how could I love a man who chose me based on my interests as a homeschooled middle schooler? Could I respect such a man? I persisted in fantasizing of an escape to another country with my parents and aunt. I wanted a happy life. The uncertainty of life after school sometimes loomed like a dark abyss, threatening to smother any glimmer of contentment in the here and now.
“Are you ok, Eden?” Bethany asked, a small frown line appearing between her eyebrows. Kaitlyn looked worried too. I must have dropped out of the conversation and into my own thoughts, a habit I’d been trying to overcome.
“I’m fine,” I said.
I understood their worry. On Christmas Eve of my sophomore year, I finally cracked. Before then, my daydreams of either escaping from school or being home with my parents and old friends got me through the silent gaps in the day when my mind was not focused on schoolwork. When I wasn’t daydreaming, I forced myself to focus on my studies so I wouldn’t ruin any slim chance of being reunited with my family.
But on Christmas Eve, the horror of the prior Christmas Eve pressed upon me like a crushing stone boulder. No amount of positive affirmation or prayer could lift the boulder. I cried for hours on end. The pain of not being with family was like someone reaching inside my soul and squeezing it until it liquefied and ran down a dirty street drain, never to be seen
again.
Kaitlyn and Bethany tried their best to cheer me up, even though they missed their old lives as well. All the girls did. So far, I didn’t know anyone who got visitors, which made me think the change of plans in my case happened to everyone. I knew my sorrow was probably no greater or no less than anyone else’s. I’d heard more than one girl crying at night. Even so, my grief had me in shackles, and I couldn’t summon the will to care about anyone else.
To help me, the school nurse gave me three different types of pills to take daily. She also prescribed a one-hour walk each day. The pills made me so groggy and sleepy that I could barely walk half a mile without feeling exhausted. Without telling the nurse, I began flushing the pills down the toilet. Gradually I felt less lethargic and more like normal.
I no longer prayed as I used to do about my many blessings and the troubles experienced by other people. Instead, I prayed over my own troubles, listing a litany of my worries, fears, and uncertainties. Happiness remained elusive, but through God’s grace, I could get through my day-to-day life without completely breaking down. If there was any possibility of reconnecting with my family and living a normal life, I didn’t want to take away that possibility by being, well, not normal. Nonetheless, my breakdown caused people to look at me more closely, as if to reassure themselves I wasn’t about to go off the deep end again.
“I’m really fine,” I said again. “Mrs. Flint arranged for the new language teacher so I can learn Sorean.” I was excited about learning a new language.
Bethany looked at me, an odd glint in her eye. “Why did Mrs. Flint do that?”
“I don’t know,” I said, cleaning up bits and pieces of shed hair now that I was done with braiding. “I think she knew about my interest in doing missionary work and thought I would be interested in learning a new language.”
Bethany asked, “Is anyone else taking classes with you?”
“I don’t think so. Mrs. Flint said something about learning the language in the side room in the library since I would be the only student,” I replied.
Bethany and Kaitlyn exchanged a look, Bethany with one delicately arched ebony eyebrow raised and Kaitlyn with a slight head tilt.
“What?” I asked to their unspoken inquiry.
“Nothing,” they both replied, but neither one would meet my eyes. They started gathering their stuff to leave.
“Is there anything wrong?” I asked, confused.
Bethany and Kaitlyn exchanged another silent look. Finally, Bethany said, “We thought for sure you would be taken from the Jade Vine House when you had your problems last year. Kaitlyn was crying, she was so upset. We were happy they decided to let you stay.”
“You’re not happy anymore?” I asked, even more confused.
“No, that’s not it,” Kaitlyn said. “It is just that before you came, two other girls had breakdowns, and they were immediately removed from the house. Everybody noticed that you were not removed. We thought it was just because we had Mrs. Flint instead of Mrs. Stout. But now you have a private tutor in something, just because you’re interested in it?”
“And you don’t have to get shots like the rest of us,” Bethany added.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, thoroughly confused.
“Candace, one of the fourth-years, overheard Mrs. Flint telling the school nurse to make sure you received no shots, just the vitamins and the pills,” Bethany said.
I hadn’t realized that other girls got shots and I didn’t, so I just stared at Bethany and Kaitlyn.
“What are the shots for?” I asked.
Bethany and Kaitlyn shrugged. “We don’t know. They said it was to help our development,” Kaitlyn said.
I was puzzling over this new information when Bethany said, “I think your sponsor is arranging your special treatment.” There was an odd note in her voice.
“Special treatment? Taking boring language classes is special treatment?” Kaitlyn asked, incredulous. “Special treatment is a shopping trip!” Since her face mask had set, Kaitlyn’s mouth didn’t have its usual range of motion, so her words sounded very off, almost like a bad ventriloquist.
Bethany and I laughed, but after our laughter died, it seemed no one knew what to say.
“I’ll ask about the shots and why I’m not getting them the next time I go to the nurse’s office,” I offered tentatively.
Both Kaitlyn and Bethany nodded in agreement. I wondered briefly why they hadn’t just asked themselves, but perhaps they figured I had more standing to ask since I was the one missing out on the mysterious shots. In any event, my offer had set the mood in my room back to normal.
“Where is Sorean spoken?” Bethany asked.
“On Seahorse Island,” I replied.
“Where is that?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Just south of Sri Lanka,” I replied, not sure if that was information I was supposed to share. I learned about geography at home, but it was not covered at school. For goodness sake, we didn’t even know where the school was located!
“Oh! Is that the island that appeared overnight?” Kaitlyn asked, her mouth mobile again. She had wiped off the facial mask.
“I think so,” I said slowly, trying to remember what I wasn’t supposed to say about the island. My father had said that while the island did form superfast, it certainly wasn’t overnight. He said no one knew it was forming because of budget cuts at one of the universities. Apparently, a number of positions were cut due to budget shortfalls, but one of the positions cut was responsible for monitoring underwater plate movement. The monitoring technology in place had recorded for years that an island was forming, but no one was around to interpret data. Thus, everyone was surprised when an island the size of Texas appeared so quickly after the submersion. Was I supposed to know about the submersion? I wondered to myself. I was pretty sure we hadn’t covered it at school.
“I heard the people on that island have the best skin,” Kaitlyn continued. “The humidity keeps their skin so soft they don’t need moisturizers.”
“Well,” I said. “Good to know I can forgo moisturizer if I take a mission trip there.” We all laughed.
Bethany asked, “How can an island appear overnight? Doesn’t it take, like, years and years for an island to form?”
“How would we know?” Kaitlyn replied back. “It’s not like we take science here.”
After Bethany and Kaitlyn went back to their rooms, I lay wide awake for a long time on my narrow bed, listening to the rain and thunder outside. Every now and then I could see flashes of lightning illuminate the bars outside my window. Eventually, I fell asleep to the thunder.
The next morning, I woke to a bright sun shining through my window. I lay unmoving for a few moments. The storm had chased off the heat, so the air felt less heavy and more like a pleasant breeze. I could hear birds chirping outside and the sound of others getting ready for the day. I finally slid from the warm bed and got myself ready.
As a third-year, I didn’t have the option of skipping the beauty room. Putting on makeup for me was like my Art of Conversation class, not easy. I inevitably got powder from blush or foundation on my uniform, my eyeliner was always a little crooked, and my lipstick looked half-baked since I tended to bite my lower lip a little when I was thinking. This morning, however, I was able to do a passable job. As I looked in the mirror to inspect my work, I noticed my face wasn’t so round in the cheeks. I had grown a little taller, and my breasts were noticeably bigger. I scrunched up my face in the mirror. My body was becoming more like an adult’s, despite my mind’s protestations to the contrary.
“Are we ready to go? We should be there a little early to make sure we get three seats together,” said Kaitlyn. We were third-years now, so we sat at the upper-class table.
When we got there, I noticed a few new girls at the lower-class table. They had the same shell-shocked look I had when I first arrived. None had bruises. I felt a treacherous shiver of happiness that Giovanni was dead. Appalled at my thoughts and la
ck of real remorse over such thoughts, I said a quick prayer, asking for forgiveness in my head, and forced myself to engage in conversation. I found that Mrs. Flint’s gaze lingered on me for shorter periods of time when I was talking with someone.
“I’m glad it’s not so hot today,” I said to no one in particular.
“Yes, me too,” an olive-skinned, dark-haired fourth-year named Annalise replied as she spread apple butter over a thick slice of whole wheat toast.
“I wonder if the hot weather we experienced is typical for this area,” Bethany said.
“I wouldn’t know, but considering that those of us who traveled in the shortest time to get here all lived in northeastern areas, I would say the hot weather is atypical.” This statement came from a petite honey-blond girl named Jaelle who usually never said a word unless forced to in the Art of Conversation class.
Bethany paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. Her blue eyes narrowed as she looked at Jaelle. I knew what she was thinking. How did Jaelle know where we were from? Other than Bethany and Kaitlyn, I hadn’t told anyone where I was from. No one had shared with me where they were from.
Bethany looked around casually. Seeing no teachers within hearing distance and that the girls at the other end of the table were not listening to our conversation, she asked, “How do you know where we’re from? Did you see our records?”
“I haven’t seen anyone’s records,” Jaelle replied, a tad condescending. “I just put clues together. For example, Bethany once described how she loved picking avocados as a kid and making avocado fruit juice shakes. Since avocados only grow in warm climates, I know she isn’t from anywhere around here.”
Bethany started to say something but stopped as Mrs. Flint approached our table.
“Good morning, ladies,” she said, smiling.
“Good morning, Mrs. Flint,” we all dutifully replied.
When Mrs. Flint moved on, Bethany leaned in slightly and said, “That’s great, Jaelle, but what I really want to know is why I’m in this place to begin with and how can I get out.”
