The End Defines the Beginning : A Boarding School Coming of Age (Harlow Academy Series Book 1)

by Sarah Appleby

  “Well,” Emily tried to be nonchalant, “Guess I’d better get going through security. I’m sure my little airport helper will be waiting for me.”

  Marie’s hands seemed to shake. But she held it together for her daughter.

  “Yup,” she said, “Early bird gets the worm.”

  Marie knew it had been a strange choice of words, but she was at a loss for them. Now two of her children would be gone within two years. Words, thoughts, feelings. They all came to her like a tsunami and left nothing but a mess. She had to clean up this storm. For Emily.

  Grandpa hopped up from the table first.

  “Come on sweets, let’s get you off,” he said.

  Emily could tell none of them were in a hurry to shove her off shore. Not even Pepper. He had been very quiet almost all morning.

  They all walked silently over to security where there was a member of staff waiting to accompany Emily through the metal detectors and to her gate.

  She said hello to the short man in a suit. Then, she put down her bag and went to give everyone one last hug.

  “Now don’t go missing me too much,” she said, embracing them one by one.

  Pepper.

  “Keep your grades up. Don’t go slacking. We’re counting on you being the president one day.”

  Emily smiled shyly. She knew it was his way of supporting her.

  Grandma.

  “You’d better call me once a week and tell me how much fun you’re having.”

  “I will, Grandma,” said Emily.

  Grandpa.

  “Oh Sweets. I’ll miss our chats… come back with lots of stories,” he said, hugging her tightly.

  “I will, Gramps. They might be even more interesting now,” Emily said with a smile.

  And Mom. There was a pause in the momentum. Marie knew that once she hugged her daughter, she would turn around and leave… so she held her Emily’s arms, and looked at her from arm's length.

  She knew the day would come. Just not so soon. Emily could see the shimmer of tears building up in her mom’s eyes.

  “Don’t cry, Mom… I’ll be back…”

  Marie just shook her head, showing that she knew this. Then she took a deep breath and shook off the sadness. She pulled Emily close and gave her a deep, long hug.

  Emily loved that she hadn’t gotten as tall as her mom. It meant that every time her mom held her, she still felt like a baby. It was a secret pleasure that no teen girl would want to admit. Emily wrapped her arms around Marie and could hear her mom’s heart pounding.

  Marie caressed Emily’s hair and then whispered in her ear, “This is the best thing for you. I know it is. You’ve got this, honey. You’ve got this.”

  Emily pulled back from the hug and with her arms still around her mom she asked, “You ok?”

  Marie’s lip quivered and water pooled in her lower lids.

  “Yeah, course honey. Go and take the world by storm,” she said.

  Emily pulled back, not wanting her mom to cry but mostly thinking of the future. She wasn’t heartless, but her mind had long ago moved into a dorm room in New England.

  “Ok, well, guess this is goodbye til Christmas,” Emily said, heading back over to her airport escort, “I’m sure it will go by in a flash.”

  And at that, she turned around.

  Marie’s floodgates opened and silent tears welled up in her eyes, slowly flowing down the gentle hills of her cheeks. Marie saw, through blurred prism, a young woman that never looked back. And she knew this was the right thing.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE THREE-HOUR flight had been pleasant. Emily felt amazing. Choosing her food, chatting with strangers. She felt that she was bursting into adult life at full speed.

  But when she stepped off the plane and onto the jet bridge, for the first time since leaving her house that morning, she felt a bit intimidated.

  Luckily, she joined up with another airport escort to take her down to luggage, her next step. It was a woman slightly taller than Emily, around her mom’s age, who spoke with what sounded to Emily like a Jamaican accent. She seemed happy to see Emily, and the pair started walking toward baggage with the herd of other passengers.

  “It’s nice to see a young lady traveling. I usually help older passengers. What are you doing in Boston on your own?” The escort asked.

  “I’m heading up to New Hampshire… going to a boarding school up there,” Emily replied, feeling proud but trying not to sound like she was bragging.

  “Ah… so are you naughty or are you smart?” The lady asked, jokingly.

  Emily laughed and appreciated the joke. It took her mind off her nerves.

  “Do you think if I was naughty I’d tell you?” Emily replied, smiling.

  The lady burst into big, loud laughter. Finally she said, “Ah, I can see you are smart, then!”

  The rest of the walk was pleasant, and the woman’s small talk was comforting. She told Emily about her family and about how she had two kids younger than Emily and what they were up to. She talked about when she was on the track team in high school and about the exceptional Jamaican Olympians she loved to watch.

  She had a lot of national pride but also loved New England and said there were a lot of fantastic things about living here. She painted pictures of the amazing autumn leaves and the way the icicles formed on trees. She told Emily to make sure she ate some lobster one day, and that it was good everywhere on the East Coast, not just in Boston.

  With all the chatter the time passed quickly and the next thing Emily knew, her trolley full of luggage rolled up next to a minivan parked in the valet area of a short stay car park. She was about to be passed off to a man who was about fifty with a bit of a belly and salt and pepper hair.

  “Well, you take care of yourself, young lady,” said the escort, “Don’t be getting into no trouble just because your mother isn’t looking.”

  Emily laughed.

  “I won’t…”

  And she walked off. A short man with a potbelly greeted Emily.

  “Hiya… I’m Frank and you must be Emily,” he said, holding out his hand to shake.

  “Yup, that’s me,” she replied. She took his hand and shook it. She asked herself if she had ever shaken a stranger's hand before. It was so civilized.

  “Well, you’re the only pick up today so let me pop your stuff in the trunk and we’ll set off.”

  It was mostly highway on the way up to Harlow, and Emily zoned out a bit. She suddenly felt her five am start caught up with her.

  As her mind drifted in and out of concentration, she thought about her first day at Edison. She had been so full of nerves back then, going into middle school, a sprawling building she would have to navigate all on her own several times a day. Now here she was, ready to live at school a million miles away from home. Her stomach tingled at the thought.

  She remembered Andy’s words back then.

  “Em,” he had said, “You’re going to be alright. All the other sixth graders are going to be in the same boat. Everyone is a bit nervous. And you’ll get around fine, too. I didn’t do all that orienteering with you this summer for nothing… Plus, you’re my sister. And my sister is a winner. All right?”

  Andy hadn’t been nice to her very often. But he had always been kind when it mattered most. His words made her smile. She had him to thank for much of the courage she now possessed. As the highway whizzed by in a blur, she wondered if she still would have applied to Harlow if Andy hadn’t died. She wondered if he would have been proud of her right now.

  “Weah in New Hamshah now,” Frank said.

  Emily turned her attention back to the outside world. The here and now.

  The signs came by periodically and Emily studies them all. Woburn. Andover. Lawrence. Salem.

  “Salem,” thought Emily, “like the witch trials.” Emily imagined that the old courthouse that might still be intact from as far back as the sixteen hundreds. The rest of the journey she her imagination conjured up images of
pilgrims and smallpox blankets and puritan hats. She noticed the names of all towns on the exit signs: Hampstead, Kingston, Haverhill… the names were all so different from back home where towns borrowed Native American nomenclature. It felt so refined and sophisticated here. Almost dizzy from watching every detail on the roadside, she finally caught the name she had searched for on every sign: Henley.

  Moments later, they turned off the highway.

  Within minutes, they were in Henley, a quaint little town with a population of only fifteen thousand it was bursting with east coast architecture and beautiful old oak trees. The buildings were mostly brick fronted, and they passed a gazebo in the town center. It was nothing like Minneapolis. Nothing like any town Emily had ever been to before.

  “Weeah just abowt ta turn into the main street through campus now,” said Frank, with his thick, Boston accent.

  Her heart skipped a beat. This was it. She was home.

  Suddenly, one of the most beautiful buildings that she had seen so far appeared before her. It was the Academy building on the Harlow Academy campus. She had studied so many photos of the campus before coming she felt as though she could name every hall, every gym building and every dorm. With an enormous bell tower and a giant clock, some railing thingy and a flag, it was absolutely incredible. She knew she wasn’t in the Midwest anymore.

  “Awlright,” said the driver, “I’m gonna take you to yoah dorm and someone will be by to pick you up at two.”

  It was 1:30. Not much time to chill. Not that she wanted to.

  They turned left off the main road and onto a wide path running past other campus buildings. Emily knew that most of them were dorms. Before long, they were parked up.

  He handed her a large envelope.

  “Heah’s yoah itinerary foah the next coupla days,” he said as they pulled up in front of a brick and ivy building, the one Emily knew must be Graves Hall. Her dorm.

  Hopping out of the minivan, the pair of them each grabbed suitcases, and he helped her to her third-floor room. Number 333. A magical number if there ever was one.

  The driver tipped his non-existent hat, and he was off to ferry someone else around.

  She opened the large envelope and found maps and timetables, information she would need for these few days of Gateway. Her key was also in there. It was an old-fashioned thing, what she would have called a skeleton key. She suddenly wondered if that was the right word. In New Hampshire, it was probably just a key.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the door, and there was an enormous bedroom before her. On the left-hand wall there was a doorway, with a door, that lead to the room where her roommate would live. There was a single bed, with sheets lying folded and pressed on top of the mattress. The large sash window let in beams of sunshine. There was an enormous desk with drawers and a dresser. It surprised her how big it was. Much bigger than her room back home.

  She rushed to the window and looked outside to take in the view. Her room overlooked a lawn and about a block away, she saw one of the multiple buildings that made up the sprawling athletic facilities.

  A knock at the door pulled her out of her dreamworld.

  She turned around and there was a tall boy standing in the doorway. He wore a Harlow t-shirt that read “Harlow Lacrosse” and a baseball cap pulled tightly around the sides of his face.

  “Hey, I’m Bart. Are you Emily?” he asked and let himself in the room.

  “Yeah,” she rushed over to him and shook his hand, “Hey.”

  “So I’ve been sent to get you, but I’m a bit early. Are you cool to head out or do you need some time?”

  “No, I’m cool. I’ve been sitting for a pretty long time. The plane ride, then the car ride,” she said.

  “Oh so you like, just now arrived,” he asked.

  “Literally just,” she said.

  “Well, no time like the present. Let’s motor,” he said, and he, with manners that surprised Emily to no end, extended his arm outward through the doorway as if to say ‘ladies first.’

  “So, where did you fly in from,” he asked as they walked in the sunshine among the bricks and trees.

  “Minneapolis,” she said, “Ever been?”

  “Nope,” he said, “Is there anything worth seeing?”

  She wondered what to mention first. The Mall of America or the sculpture garden. One was very teen-ish and basic, the other was taking a stab in the dark as to whether to not Bart was the sophisticated type.

  “Well, there’s a sculpture garden,” she said, “I know that might not sound that great, but one of the sculptures is pretty cool. A giant spoon with a cherry. Very modern.”

  They walked toward the closest dining hall. There were two, and Emily’s nearest would be Oak Street. On the way they passed another dormitory and the epic architectural beauty- the campus library.

  Then Emily stopped dead in her tracks.

  “But, I suppose not as much impresses you when you have that in your backyard.”

  Bart noticed Emily look up and slow her pace as she marveled at the sight of it. It was the largest secondary school library in the world.

  In. The. World.

  And Emily would study there for the next four years. Having late evenings. Burning the midnight oil. Maybe meeting some boys there to “study.”

  “It is pretty incredible, isn’t it,” Bart said, “I mean, I’ve been here two years, on my third, and I still don’t get bored with looking at it,” Bart said.

  She shook her head in agreement and beamed from ear to ear.

  Oak Street wasn’t far from Graves Hall. Bart told Emily that he had done the Gateway program in his first year, he had entered as a lower, a second-year student, and that he thought it was helpful.

  “It really calmed my nerves,” he said, kindly.

  And because he remembered how great it was to meet a few people before things really kick off, he volunteered, now a senior, to come to school early and help the new kids.

  “Well, thanks for that,” Emily said, “hopefully it will do the same for me. But I mean, I know this probably sounds big-headed, but I’m not really too nervous. I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

  “That’s great,” said Bart, “I think the kids that get most nervous are the ones that don’t necessarily want to be here. I mean, like, their parents kind of force them to come. Most people like it in the end I think… I’m sure you will, anyway.”

  Emily could not believe that anyone could be forced to attend a school like Harlow. That’s like being forced to eat cake. Or ice cream. It’s a delight. A treat. Extras.

  They walked into Oak Street, again Bart being a gentleman and opening the door for Emily. She couldn’t help but crush on him a little. She had never been treated that way before by a boy. Maybe it was because he was older than the boys she had been around. Maybe it was because he was a Harlow boy, a Harlowite. She didn’t care why; it made her feel special.

  There were about twelve other students that had come early for Gateway standing inside the foyer of the dining hall. Of the twelve students it appeared to be symmetrical: about three preps, three lowers, three uppers and three seniors. Emily had expected more students at Gateway. Was it possible that every other prep for the class of 2019 had already seen the campus?

  It didn’t take long for Emily to realize that this was mostly this year’s intake of scholarship kids. Because they were the only ones that couldn’t afford an extra flight out.

  “So, I’m going to leave you with these guys for a bit and grab lunch with the other volunteers,” said Bart, nodding toward a table inside where Emily could make out a few older looking students, tall and mature looking.

  “Sure, of course,” she said, not meaning it. She wished he would stay and keep his security blanket around her.

  Knowing that she had already been labelled as a poor kid made her suddenly feel uncomfortable and out of place.

  “I’ll be walking around with everyone when we do the tour though, so if you have any q
uestions, I’ll be around to help.”

  Bart walked off to the hot buffet. It was the last time she ever talked to him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE GATEWAY STUDENTS were ushered inside the actual building and a delicious scent of sautéed onion, tomato sauce and Italian herbs got Emily thinking that today might be lasagna or spaghetti. The smell of garlic bread was unmistakable. Welcoming and warm, she was happy to be only a short while away from eating. Emily hadn’t eaten since being on the plane and her stomach told her it was time. It was making those embarrassing gurgling and rumbling noises. She hoped no one would hear.

  Oak Street dining hall reminded Emily a bit of the buffet, “all you can eat” restaurants that she and her family went to from time to time. In Oak Street, there were two rows of hot food counters where servers stood to dish up the main offering and students took sides for themselves. Next to the hot food area was a vast hall with long tables and lots of chairs at them. There was also a salad bar, a cereal bar, and a bagel bar in the eating area.

  Food was something Emily hadn’t considered at all before traveling to her new home. Maybe she should have. Emily had always been a picky eater. Relieved to have smelled something familiar on her first day, she suddenly wondered what kind of other meals they might offer.

  She wished she had marked down a few food allergies on the health form: pickles, eggplant, olives, zucchini… her dislikes formed a pretty long list and she thought to herself that she was going to have to get over it, stock up like crazy on Ramen noodles or survive off of that bagel bar.

  A man and a woman dressed in the typical east coast khaki and polo shirt uniforms welcomed the students and ushered them past the hot food buffet to a table where there were folders with the Harlow emblem.

  Dang. They weren’t eating first.

  The man and woman were from the health center and gave a presentation meant to give the new students more “in the life of a Harlowite” information. They talked about what a typical day would be like and took questions from the students. Their primary purpose was to give a tour of the campus and facilities, the main thing that all the students there would have missed.