by Cody Wagner
Sadly, our romantic cruise ship crashed into a gargantuan iceberg about three weeks into rehearsals.
The morning of the Titanic crash, Cassie stood at the sink, like normal, in her red shirt. She’d been practicing her loud Red Shirt Brigade voice and was getting better. Except for the fact it woke me up.
“Really? Now?” I said. When I saw she was putting product in her hair, I added, “You’re gonna get your shirt dirty.”
She shrugged. “Seems appropriate.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I was too tired to ask. Instead, I hit the snooze button until she left for breakfast. Then, I climbed down, and like a million times before, got dressed, grabbed my bag, and headed out.
October had arrived, and I swore I could smell fall leaves right under my nose. The mornings were also getting cooler, so I shoved my hands into my pockets, wishing I’d taken a hoodie. After a few deep breaths, I half jogged to the Classroom Center.
Roze sat at her desk—smiling in her red shirt—when I walked into Geometry.
“Why are you so happy?” I yawned, plopping into my chair. “It’s too early to be that happy.”
She straightened. “I just recruited a couple more Brigade members.”
“Yeah? Congrats. Have you noticed a difference?”
“So so.”
That was all she said, so I stared at the whiteboard, thinking. I wasn’t sure what to make of the Red Shirt Brigade. I guess I figured it would either explode out of control or shrivel into nothing. Instead, it sat somewhere in the middle. I’d definitely noticed an improvement in Geometry, where six students now wore red. But I heard other classes didn’t have a single member.
As if reading my thoughts, Roze said, “Give it time.”
“Anything for you.”
Apparently, Roze hadn’t expected such a nice response because she didn’t have a retort ready. I smiled and settled in for another day of oh-so-exciting math. Unzipping my bag, I took out the previous night’s homework and read it over until Ms. Meeks walked in. Not one to mess around, she immediately went to write something on the board.
That’s when a TV, bolted to the ceiling in the corner, flickered on.
The entire class jumped. I think most of us had forgotten televisions were even in the classrooms.
Ms. Meeks dropped her dry erase marker as her head flew to the screen. “Oh! I guess we have some news.”
She went to her desk, sat down, and faced the TV. I noticed her eyebrows came together in worry.
Suddenly, Ray Joseph appeared on the screen. I felt my chest tighten, and I clasped my hands on the desk as if I were in trouble.
I hadn’t witnessed anything significant regarding Senator Joseph since the night I’d watched the news with my parents. Seeing his stupid perfect face on TV again made me wince. The fact he was still glowing purple about gave me a heart attack. A line of people stood behind him at attention, hanging on to his every word.
I glanced over at Roze. I don’t know why. Maybe I secretly hoped she saw him glowing, too. That was ridiculous. Other than being as surprised as everyone else, her gaze was more curious than scared, so I turned back to the TV and tried to mimic her expression.
“My point is this,” Senator Joseph was saying. “If you want to live your life in sin, that’s your decision. But I think people trying to do the right thing deserve their fair shot.”
“What does that mean?” someone from the small audience asked.
Senator Joseph smiled. “I’m glad you asked.”
“Yeah, like that wasn’t planned,” Roze muttered.
I nodded but didn’t respond.
“Regardless of where you stand on an issue,” he said, “shouldn’t you have the right to fair play?”
Several people cheered. Others booed. I guess the crowd contained a mix of supporters and opponents. For some reason, it made me even more nervous that he’d invited liberals to the conference.
“If you don’t want to be cured of your sin, fine,” he said.
“Why don’t you just say gay?” someone shouted.
That obviously wasn’t scripted. A few people in my class nodded.
Senator Joseph smiled, amused. “You say potato.”
Some of the TV crowd laughed.
A girl in the class muttered, “What an ass.” Ms. Meeks didn’t scold her for cussing.
Senator Joseph adjusted his suit coat. “What about those people who want to be cured? The ones who yearn to be rid of their sin. If it’s their decision, shouldn’t we at least let them try? Whether it works or not?”
At that, Senator Joseph focused on someone in the crowd. “I’m asking you, Senator Milkins.”
The camera switched focus to a clean-cut man in the front row. Senator Milkins was an openly gay politician who staunchly defended gay rights.
Milkins studied Joseph for a few seconds, apparently thinking he was being tricked. When Joseph didn’t say anything, Milkins straightened in his seat. “Those people should be loved and taught to love themselves.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Senator Milkins.” The camera went back to Joseph who was studying Milkins. “I’m simply asking about a person who wants to be cured. If it’s his decision, does he have the right to try? Yes or no.”
The camera went back to Senator Milkins, who was wearing a poker face. “It’s a free country. But our youth deserve some of that freedom. Too many of our young people are bullied by their parents into believing something that simply isn’t the truth.”
The camera focused back on Senator Joseph, who was now grinning. “Senator Milkins himself just graciously said the key word I want to focus on: truth.”
Senator Milkins tried to interrupt, but Senator Joseph wasn’t having it. As it was his show, Senator Joseph gestured for the camera’s focus. When Senator Milkins’s voice faded out, Senator Joseph became serious and said, “What if I were to tell you there may be places out there—healing camps and seminars and schools—that are lying right to our faces.”
I gasped out loud and looked at Roze. She covered her mouth with her hands. Ms. Meeks stood and went closer to the television. A few students gaped at each other. Without thinking, I began chewing at a fingernail. It was finally happening. I didn’t know what it was, but it was bad.
The TV audience was just as shocked. Several people audibly demanded to know what he was talking about.
Senator Joseph held up a hand to silence the audience. “Easy,” he said. “I’m not the bad guy here. If anything, I’m just the messenger. I’m only relaying to you what I’ve heard.”
“And what lies have you heard?” Senator Milkins asked.
Senator Joseph went back behind a podium. It was clear he was making everyone wait, so the news would seem more shocking. Finally, he said, “I have it on good authority that there are locations that don’t provide healing whatsoever. In fact, these locations provide a refuge for sinners.” He focused on the camera before saying, “They’re actually encouraging clients—who have paid hard-earned money for healing—to live in sin. In other words, they’re encouraging their clients to be gay.”
The audience went nuts. Senator Joseph simply smiled and let them react. I shook my head. How was he so well-spoken and composed? It’s as if he weren’t under control at all. How powerful was the Siren that she could so deftly control someone? That raised another question: how much of what he said was his own opinion versus the Siren’s?
When the crowd finally quieted, Senator Joseph said, “As Senator Milkins, a supporter of the gays, has said, it’s a free country, and these people deserve the truth. Instead, they’re being misled. It’s as simple as that.”
The camera went back to Senator Milkins, who was looking around, embarrassed. The most innocent of words had been turned back on him. Suddenly, it was as if he himself was supporting Senator Joseph’s statement.
“Where are these places?” someone shouted.
I put my hands flat on the desk and pushed against it as hard a
s I could. I knew exactly what he was about to say.
Or at least I thought I did.
“I don’t know for sure,” Senator Joseph said.
I inhaled as the entire class let out a relieved exhale. Everyone except Roze. She stared at me, her face just as confused at mine. The Siren knew exactly where Senator Joseph’s freaking “location” was. In fact, the Siren had to have been the one to tell him all this in the first place. Why would she tell him a fake healing school existed without naming it? I shook my head thinking, What the hell is going on?
“So, what are you going to do?” someone asked, and I focused back on the TV.
Senator Joseph shrugged. “The only thing we can do: try and find the location or locations.”
“How?” someone else said.
Senator Joseph rounded the podium and smiled. “Zimmerman’s Zealots are going to assist. Together, we’re going to conduct surprise visits to prominent healing locations around the country.”
“Oh my god,” I said. Roze reached out and grabbed my arm. I nodded without looking at her.
“This is ridiculous,” Senator Milkins said.
Senator Joseph smiled. “Not at all. We just want to make sure people are getting the treatment they seek. That their hard-earned money isn’t going to a lie. That they, as you so eloquently put it, are being told the truth.”
“And exactly how are you going to learn if the location is legitimate?” Milkins asked.
Senator Joseph clasped his hands together. “We’re going to conduct rigorous interviews with clients and their instructors. Furthermore, we’ll examine records and other documents to ensure validity.”
At that, Senator Milkins went to interrupt again, when Senator Joseph held up a hand to stop him. “Only if given permission, of course. There will be nothing illegal about this. We’ll look only at records made available to us and interview only clients who give us permission.” Senator Joseph put on a warm smile. “We’re only verifying people aren’t being lied to. Nothing more.”
“Where will all this start?” Senator Milkins asked.
Senator Joseph held up his hands in mock surrender. “That is the one thing I won’t tell you. We can’t give these places advanced warning. Groups of Zimmerman’s Zealots will start appearing at locations around the country next week. Rest assured, we are going to be very open and honest about what we find.”
My desk was wet with hand sweat when the TV finally went off. I hung my head on the verge of crying. I’d been so caught up in Timothy world, I’d invested virtually zero effort in the Siren. I guess I thought I had time, especially because everything had been so quiet.
Now it had come back to bite me. Big time.
I peeked at Roze, and her jaw was clenched in anger. I wish I felt the same way. But I was consumed with guilt. I couldn’t help but think this was my fault. If I’d only tried a little harder, maybe I could have prevented this.
Suddenly, the class erupted, pulling me from my thoughts.
“What a complete douche bag.”
“We’ve never let anything leak.”
“There’s no way they’d come here, right?”
At that one, Roze and I looked at each other. Or course they were coming to Sanctuary. Probably tomorrow.
The school obviously knew, too, because at that moment, the bell started ringing in quick bursts.
“What’s going on?” a girl asked.
Ms. Meeks went to her desk and grabbed a briefcase. “Principal Wolcott is calling a school-wide meeting.”
“What does that mean?”
Ms. Meeks headed to the door. “It means we all need to proceed to the auditorium.”
Ten
Straight Lessons, For Real
The scene was incredibly tense as the entire school made its way to the outdoor auditorium. The sky was cloudy, and it smelled like rain. I hoped it wouldn’t, though. That would feel super unlucky given the situation.
Most people were silent entering the rows of red chairs lined in arcs around the plain, elevated wooden stage. Principal Wolcott stood onstage, hands behind his back, at a portable podium, complete with a microphone and giant speaker. Chairs for the other teachers lined the stage just behind Wolcott.
“Blaize!”
I turned to see Cassie hustling over. She and Roze exchanged serious looks that were then directed at me. I simply nodded, and we entered a row near the front. We didn’t want to miss a single word.
It was then that I caught sight of Timothy. He gave me an encouraging half-smile. Without thinking, I turned away. It was purely involuntary, brought on by the guilt coursing through me. What was I thinking playing my stupid little flirting game over the past month? I had more important things to worry about than goofing off with some cute guy. Images of Jimmy bleeding flashed through my head, and the guilt intensified. I sat and gripped the chair.
“Are you OK?”
Looking over, I saw Cassie studying me.
I nodded at her, said, “We know what this means,” and watched her bite her lip.
When the auditorium was full, Principal Wolcott turned on the microphone and walked closer to the edge of the stage. Before he could speak, a Junior in the front row yelled, “Are they coming?”
Apparently, Wolcott expected the question as he simply held up a hand and flashed a thin smile. “I certainly hope not. But I don’t know where Senator Joseph’s information is coming from, so I can’t say for sure.”
I gaped at Cassie and Roze. The statement was a bald-faced lie. They knew exactly where Joseph’s information came from. Even if they didn’t know Senator Joseph was under control, the Siren was obviously behind this. Of course, there was no way Wolcott could admit that, so I couldn’t really blame him. Besides, he would need to remain positive for the student body.
A few students started asking questions, and Wolcott calmly held up his hand again. His presence was so smooth and commanding, even under pressure.
“Let me speak first,” he said. “I believe I’ll address everyone’s concerns.”
Wolcott started pacing slowly, back and forth across the stage. “First off, I don’t want anyone here blaming themselves, no matter what happens. Every student has been amazing when it comes to keeping Sanctuary’s true purpose hidden. That’s why we’ve been around for so long: because of you.” He smiled and continued. “Something wonderful happens when groups of people come together under a common cause. United, we forget our differences and work together. I couldn’t be prouder of how far everyone has come. Even our new students.”
Then his tone became serious. “With that said, we all have to accept the gravity of the situation. We don’t know if Sanctuary will be a target, but we can’t give Zimmerman’s Zealots any reason to launch an investigation here.” He looked around at all of us. Like always, his gaze seemed to pierce through me. “I give a speech at every orientation about how important it is to keep Sanctuary’s true purpose hidden. We are going to have to go even further. That means new school rules.
“Normally, Sanctuary encourages same-sex couples to meet and even date. But for the next few months, we are officially banning all public displays of affection. That includes kissing, holding hands, and hugging. Everything.”
I heard some grumbling around the auditorium. A guy behind me shouted, “Why so soon?”
“A fair question,” Wolcott said. “And easily answered. If Sanctuary is visited by Zimmerman’s Zealots, it will be too difficult to remember all this in the moment. You all have good intentions. But after getting used to, say, holding hands with your boyfriend, the habit becomes instinctual. I guarantee that even with this ban in place, some of you will slip up unintentionally.” Wolcott walked closer to the edge of the stage. “I’m sorry to have to do this, but we must start breaking those habits now. For your own protection.”
My heart beat faster as I realized it would only take one student to ruin everything. I suddenly pictured myself running up and awkwardly kissing Timothy right in front of
Senator Joseph. It sounded like something I’d do, and the idea made me cringe.
“Additionally,” Wolcott said, “all text messages, instant messages, and other forms of communication regarding relationships or anything that might harm Sanctuary will cease immediately. Just use common sense here, folks. If it feels incriminating, it probably is. And I don’t care how in love you are.” He stared around at us again. “Will you risk the well-being of every person here just to send a heart to your boyfriend or girlfriend?” The comment was kind of funny, but no one laughed. I’d never heard Wolcott more serious.
“Finally,” he said, “I’m sorry to say this, but all pro-gay activities around campus are immediately canceled. This includes the current theater production.”
A string of protests erupted. I turned around and found Darrin. While he didn’t look happy, his expression wasn’t surprised. I guessed he’d already been informed. Wolcott confirmed this by saying, “I’ve already talked with the heads of the theater group, and they agreed to do a standard production of Auntie Mame. It calls for the same number of leads, so you’ll still get the chance to be stars.” He smiled but his eyes weren’t happy.
I scanned the audience, and without thinking, locked eyes with Timothy. He shrugged as if saying, I don’t care what show we do. I tore my gaze from his, feeling guilt creep in again. Part of me screamed that our friendship—or whatever it was—had to stop. The idea hurt my stomach, and I actually grabbed my ribs.
Wolcott walked back to the podium, lifted a water bottle, and took a drink. “It’s not going to be easy, but please know we are all in this together.” Wolcott gestured back at the teachers. “Even our couples on staff will be abiding by these rules. And some have been together for years.”
That seemed to have an impact as everyone went quiet.
