Spearwood Academy Volume Five

by A. S. Oren

  I look over my shoulders to see the eighth world wonder of this place—Zack—step out of hiding and into the hallway. “Yeah?”

  Elle places her hands on her hips. “Want to go outside?”

  He points at his room with his thumb. Deadpan, he says, “Sorry, I’m busy practicing my fire breathing.”

  She crosses one arm and counts to three with her free hand.

  Zack takes a deep breath, a sure fire sign he’ll cave under pressure. “Do you want to go outside, Emma?”

  I nod. “Mhmm.”

  “Looks as if we’re going outside, big guy.”

  Jeff scowls at him. It’s no secret he hates the cold. The keys hanging from Jeff’s belt loop jingle as he walks to Zack’s room.

  “Well, don’t just stand there,” Elle says to Zack. “Go get your coat.”

  He steps back into his room. Jeff makes his way in. Elle and I pass them on the way to our room before taking a seat on the edge of my bed.

  It’ll be nice to go outside again. Ever since the other day at lunch, Elle and Crystal have been at each other’s throats. Crystal does what she can to push Elle’s buttons, e.g., refusing to go outside when we all have to agree, which just so happens to be every day when the younger ones are in school.

  Elle should know better than to get on anyone’s bad side. Others always pay the price. Still, I love her all the same.

  I lie back on my bed and stare at the small, black pits in the cardboard tiles that cover the ceiling. No crown molding in this place. I wonder if normal people notice stuff like this. Do they appreciate their fancy ceilings?

  Elle lies down on her stomach and props her head up. “What are you thinking about?”

  “How lucky we are that Crystal’s at therapy. I’d hate to see you go after her in the snow. That is, if you could get her to go outside in the first place.”

  “Oh, please,” she says, rolling onto her side before twisting a strand of her choppy, black hair, “you’d cheer me on, and you know it.”

  I exhale through my nose. “I’d prefer my friends stay out of the hospital.”

  Elle laugh sarcastically. “Too late for that; we’re already in one.”

  “Not . . . technically,” I dispute. “We’re hospital adjacent.”

  She rolls her eyes. “A set of double doors to separate us isn’t much. I’d say we’re still a part of the hospital. We just happen to have a different name on the side of the building.”

  I shrug. “I guess you’re right. I just like thinking that we’re not. Before you came along, I used to have hallucinations. I was the girl on The Little Princess. Jeff would bring me fine linens and scones from Paris. I even had my sister with me, and we’d make forts and play games.”

  “What made the hallucinations stop?”

  I roll onto my side. “I told my therapist, and she upped my meds. I never had those hallucinations again.”

  She places her hand over mine. “You’d make a good princess. I wish you had a life like that—the good part of the movie, not the scrubbing floors and stuff.”

  My brows rise. “Feeling sorry for me again?”

  She bites her lip and rolls onto her back. “It’s hard not to, Miss Ward-of-the-State.”

  I sigh. “It’s not all bad. I get three meals a day, a place to rest my head, and toiletries.”

  “Oh, the toilet paper is divine,” Elle says in her best southern belle accent.

  “Sure, one-ply toilet paper that dissolves as you wipe is just what the doctor ordered.”

  She shakes her head. “That makes no sense.”

  I roll over and poke Elle in the side. “Made you laugh. That’s all that matters.”

  She scowls and pokes me back.

  “Ladies,” Jeff says, walking into our room.

  We jump up from the bed.

  “Did you wash your hands after taking a twenty-minute pump-a-dump?”

  I backhand her gut. “No class, Elle. No class.”

  She flips her hair over shoulders. “Well, duh, we did graduate.”

  We hip bump and high-five. Jeff rubs his forehead and exhales. He unlocks our closet, which is really more of a wardrobe/bookcase-looking thing. Elle grabs a coat and hands it to me before getting her own. Technically, they’re all hers. People stopped donating clothes to me years ago. If it weren’t for Elle, I’d be wearing a hospital gown.

  With all of her nice clothes hanging up, I’d think she has a nice family to go along with them. She doesn’t. She’s been in and out of this place for the past five years, and they’ve never visited—never.

  Every once in a while, they pull her out against the doctor’s wishes. She always comes back after a week or so, claiming to have severe depression. I think she likes the drugs and can’t stand her family. Why else would she want to stay here?

  Jeff locks the closet. When I step into the hallway, Zack looks me over. “Too many layers,” he says with a straight face.

  “Move along,” Elle says, stepping in front of me to block his eyes from mentally undressing me again.

  He spins on his heel. “So bossy.”

  “You betcha, Sasquatch.”

  “That is highly offensive to the Native American people,” Zack says.

  “Fine, Dragon Tooth. Keep it moving.”

  He looks over his shoulder. “That’s your comeback? I’m disappointed in you, Elle.”

  She huffs and walks up behind him. She pushes him forward with her hands pressing against his back.

  “I should just stop walking,” Zack says. He halts, and Elle’s feet slide out from behind her as she tries to push him forward.

  “Ugh! What do you eat?”

  “Same thing as you,” he responds.

  I walk past both of them. Elle drops her hands from his back and runs up to me. She sticks her tongue out at Zack, who walks at a leisurely pace behind us.

  We all step into the elevator just outside of the double doors that lead into the hospital. Jeff pushes the button for the ground floor. The doors open to a parking garage—so close to the outside world. If only a set of keys dangled from a steering wheel.

  I wonder how long it would take them to find me. I bet I wouldn’t make it out of the garage without wrecking a few parked car. Then again, I’ve watched plenty of TV: maybe I’d be a natural at driving.

  I wouldn’t mind sleeping in the backseat of a car if it meant getting to see the city. Of course, I’d get lost on my own: I’d have to let Elle in on my escape plan. (I’d never leave without her anyway.) I bet she knows her way around the city. She might even know how to drive. I’ve never asked her.

  We walk up a half-flight of stairs, and Jeff turns a key. He opens the door, and snow drifts in along with a cool breeze. And I thought it was cold inside! “Thirty minutes,” Jeff says. He closes the door behind us and walks toward the tiny shed to our left. It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s going in there to warm up by a mini-heater and smoke a cigarette, something he’s not allowed to do on hospital grounds. We don’t tell on him; in exchange, we get to do whatever we want out here. A few of the old residents used to pick a side of the shed to make out by, and he never said a thing. I bet he gets bored around us, yet he’s worked here for more than thirteen years. There must be something about the job he likes.

  Zack looks around the fenced-in area. “What do you want to do?”

  I run to the middle of the field and lie down in the snow. It crunches beneath me on impact and chills me to the core. My teeth chatter as I spread my arms and legs in and out. “Make snow angels.”

  Elle stands over my head. Her hair falls in front of her pale face. “Dork!”

  I shrug. “Oh, no. You made me shrug. I’m going to have a hunchbacked angel now.”

  “That or one without a neck,” Elle adds.

  “As long as you don’t turn into a weeping angel, we’ll be fine,” Zack says. I bet he gets a kick out of using Doctor Who references.

  Elle crouches down beside me and makes a snow angel of her own.
I suck in a sharp breath after a snowball hits me in the chest. “Zack!” I kick my feet up and launch into a standing position. Before I’m completely upright, Zack hits me in the back with another snowball. I’m going to look like a bruised banana by the time he gets done with me. I won’t go down without a fight though. I bend over and grab a snowball of my own. I throw it at him, but it breaks apart as soon as it leaves my hand.

  “You suck at making those,” Elle says. She gets up and runs after Zack with a sheet of ice—like a big freaking sheet of ice. She’ll do some serious damage with that thing.

  “Zack, watch out!”

  He turns toward me to see what I’m talking about. Elle throws the sheet of ice at the side of his face. It shatters as if it were glass. I wait for blood to seep out of his skin, but it doesn’t. He laughs and tackles Elle. He yanks off her shoe and tickles her.

  “Cold. Cold. Cold,” she says in between laughs. I push him off, landing right on top of him. His hands go to my hips. He grins. I stop holding my weight up and collapse on him. I rest my frozen cheek against his warm one. I linger, but I don’t care.

  “This is nice,” he whispers into my ear. “I’ve been waiting for you to admit that you like me.”

  I curve my head so that my lips glide over his cheek to get the feel of a kiss without puckering or having to admit how much I want to kiss him.

  I push myself up just enough to look at him. Pink and purple swirl in his eyes. My eyes go wide as his irises turn to a solid purple. I blink a few times. Yep, I was definitely seeing things. They’re just as crystal blue as ever.

  Hands clamp around my shoulders and yank me off of him. Jeff? He never cares about this sort of thing. I take a deep breath before facing him. “Elle?” Where did all of her strength come from? Why did she pull me off of him?

  “Bad girl,” she says.

  I dust snow off my forearms. “You’re worse than a jealous boyfriend. You know that, right?”

  She shrugs. “I’m just—”

  “Looking out for me. I know. You’ve been saying that for years.” I walk away from her, tired of her constant interference.

  She follows behind. “Are you mad?” I keep trudging through the snow. She grabs my shoulder and forces me around. “Emma, talk to me!”

  I get in her face. “Why do you keep getting in the way?”

  She steps back, probably shocked by my abrasiveness. “What?”

  I don’t want to yell at her. I cringe on the inside, but do it anyway. “With Zack? With every guy?”

  She bites her lip, slumps her shoulders, and drags her foot against the snow, making a small trail. “They’re not . . . right for you.”

  I laugh, unamused. I love her, but she needs to layoff. “Elle, you think they’re not right for me because they’re in here. Well, guess what? I’m in here too. I’m not any better than any of them. I’m just as crazy.”

  She shakes her head. “No, you’re not. You’re not crazy, Emma. You never have been.”

  Here she goes again. “Stop, Elle!” I tug on my braided hair. “Don’t mess with my head! Don’t tell me that my memories are real! That I’m not sick!”

  Her forehead scrunches together as she bites her lip. “Why do you want to think you’re crazy?”

  I look at the wooden privacy fence, which stands at least eight feet high and contains no gaps. Either we’re too dangerous for norms, or they’re too dangerous for us. I’m not sure which is worse. If it’s the former, so be it: at least, I have a place where I belong. At least, my family—if they’re alive—had a reason to give me up. No one could blame them for not wanting to raise a schizophrenic child. And if they are dead, well, this is what I’m left with. It’s not much, but at least it’s something.

  “Because, it’s the only thing that makes sense.” I turn away from her and lean against the wooden fence post, tears streaming down my face. I shouldn’t be so sensitive. My tear ducts betray me far too often. I wish Zack wasn’t around to witness it. I’d rather he only see me when I’m put together. Falling apart can’t be attractive.

  “I didn’t time jump. I’m not from the 1700s. I don’t have a twin. My family is gone, and I have no idea what happened. But I’m here, and I’m dealing with it. So, would you just let me deal with it, Elle? Okay?”

  Her hand touches my back. I move away from her. I don’t want her pity, and I most certainly don’t want her lies. I’ve listened to her say I’m not crazy time and time again, but she’s wrong. I’ve been diagnosed. I’ve been on meds that treat the symptoms for over a decade. The doctors know what they’re doing. She’s just a teenager.

  I still have episodes here and there; but I keep them to myself in fear that if I don’t, I’ll never get out of here. They need to believe I’m capable of integrating with society. Maybe I play my part too well—too well for Elle to see that I’m still the fragile girl they found in the snow with only false memories of a family and a life that never existed. Should I tell her I lie? Tell her what I really hear and see when I feel as if I’m not being watched?

  Zack walks toward us. I shoo him away. Elle looks at me the way she’d look at a dead dog: defeated, inadequate, pitiful. “Don’t, just don’t. I can’t think that the last thirteen years stuck in here were for nothing and that I’m not crazy; that I lost everything; that I lost my freedom, my family, my whole life. Don’t tell me I’m not crazy. It’s the only thing I have, Elle. If I don’t have this, if everything’s a lie, then what’s the point? Am I just going to be stuck in here forever . . . with nothing? I can’t. I need you to understand just this once. Please.”

  She nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  I hug her. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I don’t know where all of that rage came from.”

  “I do. You never stand up for yourself. You’re too nice.” She squeezes me. “You should try yelling more often. It’s a vital skill you’ll need to use one day.”

  “Yelling makes me sick to my stomach, but I’m glad you forgive me.” I end the hug. “Okay, I’m going to go talk to Zack.”

  “I won’t stop you, but I don’t like—”

  “Elle.”

  “Okay. Go.”

  I walk up to Zack, who’s leaning against the shed, probably trying to give Elle and me space after I shooed him away.

  He stands up. “Hey, Emma. You okay?”

  I bite my lip and nod. What do I do from here? Tell him Elle is going to back off? That may be a bit presumptuous.

  “Come here,” he says, offering both of his hands. I place my hands in his and close the distance. My heart beats at the base of my throat. I’ve never gotten this close to him on purpose. “No Elle to stop me?”

  My lips curls into a grin. My hands shake against my sides. “She’s going to leave us alone from now on. We had a talk.”

  He licks his bottom lip before biting it and letting it jut right back out. I swallow hard, my nerves on edge. “You made her bend to your will? Impressive.” His hands go to my hip. My stomach tightens. I want to embrace him so much, but I don’t have a clue what I should do. Hands, where should I put my hands? On his hips? Too feminine. On his chest? Too intimate. I touch the shed. Awkward. He laughs and places my hands on his neck. They fit perfectly, still shaking. “Are you aware of what I’m about to do?”

  I swallow hard. “I think so.” If I’m wrong—if he doesn’t want to kiss me—I’m going to be morti—

  His warm lips press against mine, slaying my thought. My whole body sparks and closes the distance between us. His tongue teases my lips. I part them, allowing him entry. My body sparks again as I share in his kiss, my hands trailing down his back.

  “Time to go,” Jeff says.

  Zack pulls away, but I don’t want to. My body gravitates toward his until our lips meet again. His hand trails up my back to the nape of my neck. The high of it all dizzies me. I grip his bicep to steady myself.

  “All right, love birds,” Jeff prods.

  He doesn’t get it. I’ve talked myself out o
f trying to start a relationship with Zack for years, all the while fantasizing about kissing him. Now that I have, I don’t want to stop.

  We won’t be able to do this inside. We’d be separated. I might have to threaten Crystal if she tries to avoid coming outside tomorrow. I have to have this again. I have to have this again with Zack.

  When I Was Four

  I look at the red canopy above my four-poster bed and hold my favorite red velvet blanket with embroidered flowers up to my chin. I love the flowers in the garden so much that I asked my mother if I could bring the flowers inside. She said no, but made me this blanket to make up for it.

  She made Aria a navy blue one with silver stars. Aria doesn’t take care of it the way I take care of mine. She drags it throughout the castle and even outside. She dirtied it quite a bit today. Our lady, Boggs, washes it in a silver bucket by the window. She’s only a few years older than us, ten at most. “Princess,” she says to Aria, “you need to keep this inside.”

  “But I like it,” Aria says.

  Boggs smiles and shakes her head. My mother walks in. “Boggs, what are you doing?” Boggs doesn’t answer. My mother walks up to the bucket and pulls out the blanket. “Again?” She says a few words and the blanket cleans itself and dries all at once. She pokes her finger through one of the holes. “Aria, dear, you are a rough one.” She turns to me. “It’s your turn to go first, Emma.”

  I climb down the small ladder at the end of my bed. I love it when mother gets my ready to sleep. Boggs already bathed Aria and me, so all that’s left to do is our hair. Mother could use magic to rid our hair of tangles, but she never does.

  I follow her into her chambers, picking up the hem of my night gown so it doesn’t get dirty. The big doors to her room close behind us. She lifts me up and places me in her golden vanity chair. I feel like a true princess in it, especially with the glass table and gold-rimmed mirror in front of me.

  I run my little fingers over the floral perfume one of the fairies made for her. She picks up a silver brush, like the ones the mermaids use, and brushes my hair. I tilt my head back. I love it when she brushes my hair. It always puts me to sleep.