“Most are. They do give out one scholarship a year to a candidate who fits the criteria but whose family can’t afford to send her or him. One of the former graduates, who wants to remain anonymous, donates the tuition.”
“Walled in, high security, guards at the gate—probably makes it quite a curiosity to the locals. Piñon Pine Grove sounds like an exciting little city,” I said, reading from the description on the last page of the brochure. “Twenty-five thousand people, a few home building supply companies, other small factories, a mall and movie complex, and a senior citizens gated-home community with four thousand people. Wow. It’s overwhelming.”
“The students at Spindrift don’t have much, if anything, to do with the people in Piñon Pine Grove. There’s a sizable entertainment area in the school, with a big-screen movie theater and all the music you or anyone there would want. There’s a gym and an indoor pool. As you see, they even have an impressive telescope for astronomy. You probably wouldn’t want to leave.”
“You sure this really isn’t a mental institution?” I asked.
“Hardly, unless you call a place for developing your mind to even higher levels a mental institution,” Mr. Martin said.
“Very good. How do you just happen to know so much about it, Mr. Martin?” I asked.
“I have a good friend in the state education department who told me about it.”
“After you told him about me?”
“Exactly,” he said, and smiled. “No sense trying to put one over on Mayfair,” he told my father.
My father nodded and turned to me. “Well, what do you think?”
“Do I have a choice?”
There was no doubt in my mind that Julie was waiting for his call, waiting to hear that I was headed out of the house and especially away from Allison.
“Do you want a choice? Do you want to stay here in this school?”
I looked again at the brochure. “Spindrift,” I said. “From where we can look down on everyone else.”
“Which is exactly what you’ve been doing here,” my father said.
It stung.
I closed the brochure and looked out the window.
There were graduates of our school who had returned for visits from colleges they attended. They often gravitated to me because they could have a more intelligent conversation than they could have with other juniors and even seniors, not to mention many of their former teachers. We talked about the courses they were taking, the books they were reading, and the demands on their time for study and research. All of them always commented on how much they respected me for being so far ahead that when I went to college, it would seem like kindergarten. But many of them, especially the ones who were college freshmen, voiced some nostalgia.
“I wish I was a carefree high-school student again,” they might say. They’d look around and add, “I never thought I would miss this place, but I do. I had some happy times here.”
I didn’t, but I wanted to very much. I wanted to miss this place someday, too. Would I ever be nostalgic for anything anymore?
It was going to be easy to walk out of this building, out of this school world, but ironically, that didn’t make me happy. It made me feel empty. Oh, there were a few teachers I would miss because we had some good discussions, but those talks were too few and far between to amount to much, not enough to give me that sense of nostalgia those returning college students showed.
I had joined no clubs, had been on no teams, and had never been in a school show or the school band. I had no good memories of any social event. Probably, in weeks or even days after I left, I would be forgotten, and if I weren’t, I’d be remembered as some sort of freak or monster to which students could compare each other when insulting each other.
“You want to be another Mayfair?” they might say.
Or they might turn my name into a verb. “You’re Mayfairing me” or, simply, “You’re Mayfairing.”
Poor Allison. If she weren’t taken out of this school, she might suffer because of that, despite her current status as a little heroine. I hoped Julie wouldn’t go back on seriously considering finding her another school even though it might alienate her from some of her precious lunch friends. She could very well think that because I was gone from the school, Allison would be fine.
Maybe she would be, I thought. What did I really know?
“Well, then,” Mr. Martin said. “I’ll contact Dr. Marlowe today and get things arranged. They don’t have semesters like ordinary schools, so it doesn’t really make any difference when you enroll her,” he told my father. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and most probably you can head up there this weekend. It’ll be no problem getting the rest of her academic history to them.”
“Very good. Mayfair, any more questions for Mr. Martin?”
I looked at him. He wasn’t exactly riding me out of here on a rail, but he wasn’t wasting any time, either. “Will you miss me when I’m gone?”
He laughed. “You know I will,” he said.
We rose to go. He followed us out to the hallway and extended his hand to me.
“I want to wish you the best of luck, Mayfair. I know that people would say luck hasn’t anything to do with it in your case, but I don’t see the harm in wishing only the best for you.”
“Thank you. I wish you the same, Mr. Martin. You have your challenges, too.”
He smiled and watched us walk away.
“Is there anything here you might want, anything in a locker or something?” my father asked me.
“There’s nothing here I might want,” I said.
“This is for the best,” he said.
To me, he sounded more like someone who was trying to convince himself.
I didn’t have to be present to see Julie’s face when my father told her about the arrangements. I could easily imagine her look of joy, her beaming smile of relief. At dinner, she already showed a renewal of energy. She was back at gossip, opinions on some new vacation places, and thoughts about some home renovation work she was convinced they should now do.
I hated it, but even my father looked happier, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He laughed and smiled at many of the things Julie said. He really does like her, I thought. I’d study all sorts of insects and animals in my life, analyze human history from the caveman until now, but I might never come to understand men.
Too bad for me.
After dinner, I started to think about what clothing I wanted to take with me and what else I would bring. When I looked at the clothes Julie had bought me on that shopping spree, I thought about how my improved appearance had attracted male interest. Of course I was curious about what the boys at Spindrift would be like. They’d have to be very intelligent, obviously. Maybe there would be someone who was attracted to me, and I’d be attracted to him, and we’d enjoy challenging each other in many different ways. I decided I would take those outfits after all.
That I was actually leaving didn’t hit Allison until she saw my suitcases being taken out. Julie, trying to look like the good, concerned stepmother, had had my father find out what the school expected me to bring in the way of toiletries and the like. She’d then gone out and bought the items and packed them all for me.
I thought she was like a dog on a leash, panting with excitement. Soon she’d be released and could charge forward.
“Let’s have something special for dinner the night before,” she suggested to my father.
“Yes,” I said, “like a last meal on death row.”
She never enjoyed my sense of humor, and she certainly wasn’t going to enjoy it now.
Nevertheless, my father had live lobsters delivered. It was one of Allison’s favorite meals, not mine. Julie would eat only the tails, because it was simply too messy to get into the rest of it. She had gone ahead and ordered a chocolate cake with “Good Luck at Your New School” written in strawberries on the top.
What hypocrisy, I thought. She hated the idea of spending so much money
on this new school, but she couldn’t come right out and say that now, especially in front of my father. She didn’t want anything to prevent me from leaving. Somehow, even though I was leaving before my senior year had technically begun, she was making it seem as if I were going off to college. That was the way she wanted Allison to see it, but to her credit, Allison did not see it that way.
After everything that had happened, Allison appeared to be the one who was most upset and disturbed by my being sent away, even though both her mother and my father tried their best to explain how much better off I would be and how wonderful this opportunity was for me.
Allison came to my bedroom after dinner. I was sifting through my research papers, deciding what might be of any value at Spindrift, when she knocked and entered. She looked like she might actually begin crying.
“What’s wrong?”
“This is all my fault,” she said. “It is. I shouldn’t have broken my promise and told my mother things.”
“It’s not your fault. This would have happened eventually anyway, Allison.”
I saw that this wasn’t making her feel any better.
“Look, Allison, when you first showed me how upset you were after hearing Mr. Taylor talk about his engagement, I really believed he might have taken advantage of you, abused you.”
She shrugged. I still didn’t want to confess to reading her diary, but I thought she deserved to know more, to know enough to judge me more objectively in the years to come, when she was old enough to look back and understand more fully.
“The reason I would have believed it is that he took advantage of me.”
She lifted her head and widened her eyes. “Really?”
“Yes, really, but I blame myself more than I blame him now. I was vulnerable. You know what that means?”
She shook her head.
“I was in a state of mental and emotional turmoil that made me weak and blind, and he pounced like some fox that had the good fortune to have a plump chicken wander into his den. I didn’t watch out for myself. I could have prevented it all from happening, no matter how good-looking and sophisticated he thought he was. Anyway, when I saw the opportunity to hurt him back, I took advantage of it. I took advantage of you, used you. So don’t feel so sorry for me.”
I looked away and added, “You won’t understand how I could say this, but I don’t blame him now as much as I did. I’m not saying he was right or anything. I’m just . . . more understanding. When you’re older, you might understand what I mean.”
I turned back to her. “I didn’t do right by you. I’m sorry.”
“I thought we were really getting to be like sisters,” she said.
“We were. As much as I can be anyone’s sister. None of this is your fault. Okay?”
She nodded. “Can I give you a hug?” she asked.
As nice a gesture as that would be, she probably couldn’t have said anything that would have made me sadder. I nodded, and she came over and hugged me.
“I hope you’ll be happy there, Mayfair,” she said. “I won’t do as well in math, though.”
“You’ll do fine,” I said. “Really, Allison, you’re going to be all right now.”
She liked that, and so did I.
Afterward, I didn’t read. I didn’t go on my computer. I didn’t watch television or write anything. I just sat looking out the window at the stars and the occasional clouds that seemed to be tiptoeing across them.
I went to bed thinking of my mother again, picturing her face when she tucked me in or sat reading to me. I knew those images were always trying to come back, fighting to get on the screen of my memory, but I kept them from doing so because I knew what they would bring.
They would bring tears, and I always hated tears.
They reminded me that I was once, for a short while, at least, a little girl, and when I was a little girl, my mother died and left me frightened.
I vowed never to be frightened again.
Right now, try as hard as I could, lie to myself as best I could, put on the best face of bravery I could, I couldn’t help but admit that I was afraid of tomorrow.
And so, despite my hard attitude, I was trembling inside on Sunday when we set out for Spindrift. As we drove away, Allison stood at the living room’s front window. She waved quickly, as if she was afraid her mother might see her. I waved back, and she and the house disappeared behind a turn.
When the sign indicating that we were finally entering the city of Piñon Pine Grove appeared, Julie exclaimed, “Thank God!”
I couldn’t help but laugh.
She turned to defend herself. “Well, it was a difficult drive. Despite the way you explained it, who knew it would be like this on the freeway on a Sunday?”
“Most anyone else who lives in the state of California would know,” I said dryly.
“You didn’t think it would be this bad, did you, Roger?” she asked my father.
He just looked at her and smiled. She glared at everything out the window.
“It is pretty here,” my father said. “Sort of rustic, don’t you think, Mayfair?”
“Back to nature,” I said. “There’s your piñon pine,” I pointed out as we approached the hill. This route avoided the actual city of Piñon Pine Grove. “It grows well here because it requires little water. The nuts are edible.”
Julie glanced at me with her expression of surprise and amazement. She’s going to miss me, miss learning stuff, I thought.
The GPS took us to the road that led up to Spindrift. For a while, we could see only the very top of the building. As we drew closer, it seemed to rise out of the ground. The area around it was fenced in, just the way it was shown in the brochure. The long driveway led us to an iron gate at least ten feet high. Beside it was a security booth, and when we approached, a tall, stout man in a gray uniform stepped out, a clipboard in his hand. My father pulled to a stop and lowered his window.
“Mr. and Mrs. Cummings and Mayfair,” he told the security guard.
The guard’s top jacket pocket had a name tag that read “Edwards.” He nodded and tried to smile, but he had one of those sun-worn faces that looked leathery, with deep wrinkles, and eyes that suggested that he was much younger than he appeared. “May I see your license, please?”
“He’s kidding,” I muttered, but my father took it out to show him.
“Welcome,” he said after copying down my father’s license number. “You can park right up close to the entrance.”
He handed my father a blue plastic card with a black strip across the top.
“This is coded. Just insert it in the front door, and she’ll unlock for you. Give the card to Dr. Marlowe after you’re finished bringing in your luggage and things.”
“Thank you,” my father said.
Edwards returned to his booth and pressed a button that opened the gate.
“You have to prove who you are? Gates, special key cards. This isn’t what I call protected. It’s what I call locked away,” I muttered.
“Safety’s important in today’s world,” my father said. “Like Mr. Martin told us, there’s a lot of valuable property here, and I don’t mean just the equipment, books, and furniture.”
He drove us through and up to the building.
“What an interesting house,” Julie said. “I’m sure you can tell us about it.”
“It’s a Queen Anne, an architectural style popular in the 1880s and ’90s. Victorian. They’re not usually this big. It looks like a lot’s been added to it over the years, maybe recently, but it has the typical bay windows, balconies, stained glass, that turret, and the porch.”
“Maybe you should become a detective,” Julie said, smiling. She was so happy now she could burst, and she didn’t mind lavishing compliments on me.
“Any good student is a detective,” I said.
My father turned off the engine. He glanced at me and got out. I followed him around to the trunk to get some of my luggage. Julie even hurried to take a bag. Sh
e was that enthusiastic about getting me settled in and gone.
Perhaps I shouldn’t hate her so much after all, I thought. Maybe she and my father needed their space. She suddenly seemed more desperate and pathetic to me. I looked at both of them in a new way as I headed with them to my new home, my new world. My father had lost the love of his life and did struggle to keep us both afloat. Julie, for whatever reason, had a miserable start in her life, too.
Leave them be, I thought. Get on with your own life. Whatever that was.
My father inserted the key card in the front door, and we heard a click. He turned the handle and opened the door. The outside of Spindrift looked like an authentic old Victorian house, but inside we found an entrance lobby with very modern decor, beautifully laid cocoa-shaded tile floors, rich wood walls, and leather chairs and sofas.
A door was opened toward the rear, and an elegant-looking woman, with graying dark brown hair styled neatly around her face with well-trimmed bangs, entered the lobby. She looked about fifty, I thought, had a very nice figure, and, surprisingly, was dressed in a pair of jeans, a dark blue blouse, and a pair of sandals.
“Mr. and Mrs. Cummings,” she said. “I’m Dr. Marlowe. Welcome.”
“Thank you,” my father said, taking her hand. “My wife, Julie, and my daughter, Mayfair.”
Dr. Marlowe nodded at Julie and then turned quickly to me. She had intelligent blue-green eyes, and although she didn’t wear any makeup, not even lipstick, she was attractive. I sensed a quiet contentment about her, none of the tension, defensiveness, or caution that was common in the school administrators I knew.
“Hello, Mayfair. I’m sure you’ll have a million questions, so let’s get you settled in. While you’re unpacking your things, I’ll meet with your father and mother and get our paperwork completed. I’ll give your parents a tour of the school, too.”
I looked at Julie. She could finally be known as my mother if she wanted.
“Do you need help with Mayfair’s things, Mr. Cummings?”
“No, I think we can manage.”
“We’re going up a flight,” she warned. “I can call for help. I have two maintenance personnel.”
“I think we can do it,” he said, looking at Julie. She nodded.
Bittersweet Dreams Page 27
