The Academy (The Academy Saga Book 1)

by CJ Daly

  “But could only get so far as to let ‘im know that a mentor was gonna meet

  with him ever’ day after school for a while.” Daddy stopped to clench his jaw.

  “When I tried speakin’ with Andrew ‘bout the possibility of attendin’ an elite

  military school next semester . . . I couldn’t seem to tell ‘im.”

  Next semester? That’s only a few months away! I probed his face for underlying meaning. Is he having second thoughts?

  As if reading my mind he said, “I’m convinced it’s the right place for him.”

  “Then what stopped you? He has a right to know.”

  A pause stretched out so long I thought Daddy must not have heard me.

  I was about to repeat the question when he finally unglued his lips to spit out

  one word: “Mikey” then remained quiet as if that were explanation enough.

  “What do you mean? Mikey’s gonna find out sooner or later, and it’s

  gonna be so much . . .” My voice quivered when I thought how painful it

  would be for him. “So much worse for him to wake up one mornin’ to find

  his big brother’s bags are packed to leave. For good.”

  “I mean I am literal y unable to—” Daddy broke off, seeming to be at a

  loss for words. He composed himself with great difficulty. “That’s what I need

  you for—I can’t seem to tell him.”

  Oh. I got it. He wanted me to do his dirty work and deliver the bad news.

  I was about to impolitely decline when he changed gears.

  “Never mind. Come on . . . Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Daddy stalked from the room, and I followed like an obedient puppy

  he’d just kicked.

  • 109 •

  11

  FAMILY MEETING

  A couple of minutes later found us gathered around our living room in

  poses that more resembled an intervention than a family meeting.

  Only Andrew seemed to be relaxed—one leg dangling over the back

  of the couch, he was busy tossing popcorn kernels in the air and catching

  them in his mouth.

  “Listen up everybody. I have a big announcement.” Daddy’s eyes zeroed

  in on Andrew until he realigned himself into upright position.

  “What’s up, Pops?” he asked, oblivious to the seriousness of the situation.

  “Yeah, what’s up Pops?” Mikey echoed.

  An aggravated look from Daddy followed, but he decided to let it slide.

  “I have some very excitin’ news for Andrew.”

  “Yay!” Mikey was immediately enthusiastic.

  Before continuing, Daddy glanced furtively at Mikey then turned around

  so his back was completely against him. I thought that was odd (not to

  mention rude), because he usually required all eyes on him when he was

  speaking.

  “Now Andrew, I know I told you that a special mentor was comin’ here

  this semester to work with you after school,” he began.

  “Yes, sir.” Andrew appeared more bored than anything else, being well

  accustomed to special treatment.

  “Well, what I didn’t tell you was that I also finally decided on a school

  good enough to consider for you!” Daddy was smiling maniacally now and

  paused, waiting for some kind of reaction from Drew. What he got was a

  roomful of silence. He cleared his throat. “You see Andrew, yer a special

  kid . . . and by special, I don’t mean like in that retarded way people mean

  when they say “special” these days.”

  • 110 •

  It was funeral parlor quiet, so Daddy went on determinedly: “You are advanced. So advanced, in fact, that the teachers can’t keep you occupied

  with elementary-school work anymore. And since yer too young to send on

  to junior-high, yer teachers sent letters of recommendation to all the finest

  private schools across the country.”

  “Sure, Daddy. That’s old news,” Andrew said.

  “Right. But what’s not old news is that I’ve had a change of heart about

  one of ‘em.”

  “Which one of them?” Andrew was finally interested.

  “Well now, the very best one o’course!” Daddy began grinning like an

  idiot again, and I wished fervently for a pie to be lying around nearby.

  Andrew looked from Daddy’s beaming face to mine, reading my

  expression. He unconsciously scooted closer, and I placed an arm around his

  shoulder. No way I would part with him without a fight. Mikey drifted over from his chair behind Daddy, and I picked him up, squeezing him to me like

  a stress ball.

  “Katie, did you know about this?” Hurt accusation colored Andrew’s

  voice.I shook my head. No words could get around the swelling in my throat.

  Andrew looked from me to Daddy, who’d started pacing.

  “What’s goin’ on, Kadee?” Mikey asked plaintively.

  Finding it hard to breathe, I sucked in a lungful of his sweet little-boy

  neck.A furrow creased Andrew’s smooth brow. “Daddy, which school did you

  decide on?”

  Daddy quit pacing to look his son in the eye. “The International Elite

  Academy; it’s the best one in the entire world, son. Actually, it’s so elite that

  hardly anyone even knows about its existence.”

  That particular bit of news did not make me feel a smidge better. A deep

  foreboding started in my chest and passed quickly through my whole body. I

  prayed for a way to stop this from happening.

  Daddy plowed on determined to sell it. “I met with two of the school’s

  ambassadors yesterday. They are elite-trained cadets and are exactly the kind

  of young man you need to become. Discipline and advanced learnin’ will

  really help you make somethin’ of yerself, Andrew. Who knows?—you could

  even be president one day!”

  “When would I go?”

  Mikey bolted up. “Go? Whattayamean go!” I folded him back into me,

  rocking him back and forth.

  • 111 •

  Daddy rubbed a knuckle against his nose. “If— when they accept you, and if I agree, January second.” A new kind of quiet infused with dread seeped

  into the room.

  Mikey twisted around to find my eyes “How many years till Jan’ary,

  Kadee?” I had to bite my lip to keep from crying.

  “International.” Andrew sounded stunned. “Daddy, where is the school

  located, exactly?”

  Daddy cleared his throat. “It’s here.” He noted the relieved looks on their

  faces so clarified, “In the States, I mean.”

  “Where here?”

  “In, ah . . . Northern California.”

  “San Francisco?” Andrew clarified.

  More throat clearing ensued. “Yes,” Daddy coughed out. “At least I

  think so.”

  Andrew and I exchanged disgusted looks—so he wasn’t even sure where

  the school was that he was planning on shipping his eight-year-old son off to.

  Daddy looked almost as embarrassed as he should. “We can look that up

  on the Internet, son.”—As if he were smart enough to own a smart phone.

  Realizing his gaffe, he back-pedaled. “That sounds like a good assignment for

  you. Better yet . . . just ask yer new mentor tomorrow after school.”

  “So . . . we’re all gonna move to-to Sanfrisco when Drewy gets ‘cepted to

  that new school?” Mikey looked up at me for confirmation.

  I moved some phlegm around my throat to accommodate some words

  getting by. I looked
to Daddy, but he appeared to be frozen.

  Andrew answered for both of us. “No, you dope. It’s just me.”

  “What!” Mikey’s whole body went rigid, eyes pleading with mine to set

  the record straight.

  I still couldn’t form words so just squeezed him tighter, hiding my face in

  the back of his neck—I didn’t want him to see the terror I felt mirrored back

  at him. A limp, sick feeling of powerlessness overcame me.

  Mikey sprang forward to face off with Daddy. “Daddy, you can’t send

  Drewy away to a school—you and Kadee still have to grow him up!”

  Daddy glared down at his youngest child with all the hateful intimidation

  he could muster. “You do not have a say so in this, little mister.”

  Legs splayed out, hands balled into fists, Mikey stood his ground. “Oh yes

  I do! He’s my brothuh. ‘Sides—you have to be a grownup to leave yer house,”

  he reasoned, “it’s the law!”

  I had to give it to the kid—he had guts. I, on the other hand, felt like a

  bowl of Jell-O, a real gutless wonder. I began crying softly, feeling like the

  • 112 •

  most useless human being on the planet. Daddy pointed his death rays in my direction now.

  “Daddy, yo’wer not gonna send Drewy to that school,” Mikey commanded.

  “You ain’t gonna tell me how to run my house!” Daddy pointed his trigger finger at Mikey, but I could see his finger-gun was shaking. “That’s like tellin’

  the cow how to eat the cabbage!”

  I held my breath at the standoff happening in our living room. Daddy

  began stalking to the wooden paddle, hanging from its hook in the corner

  gathering dust. Andrew and I clutched each other.

  “Yo’wer not gonna send Drewy to that school!” Mikey screamed with

  such conviction that I started to believe he might not through the sheer force

  of his will.

  Daddy whipped around. It looked like he was going to let Mikey have

  it, but then, some kind of violent internal struggle began happening that

  prevented him from proceeding. I was relieved, figuring it was most likely to

  keep his hands from wrapping around his youngest child’s neck.

  “Daddy, say yo’wer not gonna do it!” Mikey hollered.

  Daddy began contorting as if he were in pain. One hand crawled along

  his chest like he was trying to stave off a heart attack. Sweat began pouring

  down him, almost as if he’d been doing actual real work.

  Andrew and I exchanged looks. What’s going on?

  The sweaty contortionist before us finally spoke with great difficulty

  through clenched teeth: “You aint . . . gonna dictate . . . how I . . . run my

  house.” Daddy looked at Mikey with such loathing I thought it might actually

  stunt his growth. It looked like the madman was about to lay into the little guy

  with his bare hands, so I grabbed Mikey by the shoulders to pull him away,

  but it was like his boots were nailed to the floor. Hands over his clavicles, I

  stood behind him.

  “Daddy, yo’wer not gonna send Drewy away!” Mikey repeated with so

  much heated force I could feel actual vibrations of energy emanating off him.

  Daddy’s jaw and fists clenched so tightly I thought one or the other might

  shatter. That was about the time Andrew also stood up, manfully, to defend

  his little brother. The three of us faced Daddy together.

  “Say it, Daddy.” Mikey took another step forward as though pressing the advantage.

  Daddy shook his head like he was trying to shake off the effects of a

  particularly tight half-Nelson. His complexion turned from burnt to ashy, his

  whole body trembling like a volcano was erupting from the inside. I wasn’t

  sure whose health I was more worried about at the moment—his or Mikey’s.

  • 113 •

  Finally, Daddy choked out the words we were all waiting to hear. “I ain’t”—pant—“gonna”—heave—“send him”—gargle—“away.”

  Mikey, who’d worked himself into quite a state himself, seemed to relax

  now. His eyes, which had been solely transfixed upon Daddy, looked up at us

  with gloating satisfaction. “See! I toldja . . . he ain’t gonna do it.”

  Well that did it—Daddy finally snapped. Palm raised, he lunged for

  Mikey. “No!” Mikey and I screamed together. As if on command, the blow

  completely bypassed Mikey to whap Andrew upside the head.

  I gasped, “Daddy!”

  We all stood stock-still, shocked as if a tornado had just whipped our

  house away in a torrent of wind. Andrew’s eyes were already watering, but

  he was determinedly blinking them back, his throat working up and down.

  Mikey re-balled his hands into fists. “That was a crummy thing to do!”

  Daddy seemed as shell-shocked as the rest of us. White-faced, he moved

  towards his favorite child, remorse shining through his eyes. “Andy, son,

  I’m—” He broke off when Andrew flinched back from him. Daddy’s shoulders

  slumped in defeat. After a few moments of soaking up unforgiving stares from

  his children, Daddy cleared his throat. He walked a couple of steps away,

  jingling some pocket change.

  “You know what?” He whirled back around. “Y’all clingin’ to each other

  like a bunch of monkeys ain’t gonna change my mind one bit. And I’m no

  longer gonna discuss my decisions as head-of-the-house with you kids. I

  can see now this family meetin’ was a mistake. I wanted to give you all the

  courtesy of lettin’ you know of my decision in advance.” He glared at me and

  then said, “I will no longer give you that courtesy.”

  I blanched. Not knowing what was happening would be the worst-case

  scenario for me.

  Daddy turned down his glare and faced Andrew, who was wiping the

  back of his hand across his eye. Daddy’s face softened, but he kept his tone

  hard. “Tomorrow, you’ll meet the mentor who’ll be workin’ with you this

  semester. After school, in Mrs. Woodward’s class. Remember son—this is

  top-notch tutorin’ you’re gettin’, so really apply yerself. This will get you on

  the fast track to bein’ accepted to the Elite Academy, not that you need help, mind you, they’d be lucky to have you. But you still apply yerself with all

  your might. Got it?”

  Andrew nodded. Satisfied with that, Daddy turned to me. “You will pick

  him up tomorrow at four sharp. Do not ask any questions except: Where and

  when do I pick up Andrew tomorrow? Do you understand me, young lady? I

  do not want you influencin’ or inerferin’ in any way.”

  • 114 •

  I ground my molars together but knew any more defiance would only

  succeed in Daddy tightening the screws even further. “Yes, sir,” I choked out.

  “Because if you do . . .”—he looked at Mikey pointedly—“you will regret

  it,” he finalized, grabbing his keys and slamming out the door without a

  backward glance at the birthday girl.

  Mikey looked up at me with earnest eyes. “Don’t worwy, Kadee . . . I

  won’t let Daddy send Drewy off to that school.”

  I pumped his plump little hand while Andrew and I locked eyes over his

  head. Looked like we’d have to continue our own family meeting . . . after

  Mikey was in bed.

  • 115 •

  12

  FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

&nbs
p; The buzz surrounding the new boy had managed to permeate even the

  quiet recesses of the library. I was library-aid again this year so was

  busy recoding some miscellaneous books that had moved locations

  over the summer. Boring, tedious work, but if I finished the three chin-high

  stacks, I might have enough time leftover to email Reese before second-

  hour. This was my goal, that and searching the Internet for more info about

  Andrew’s “elite” school. I was trying hard not to think about it, but it kept

  popping in and out of my head like a sinister Whack-A-Mole.

  So I was busy tap-tapping in barcodes and listening to Mrs. Greer’s

  oldies playlist when a determined face, that would’ve been even prettier sans

  glimmer, head-tilted into my view.

  “Hey, Steph. What’s up?” I infused my voice with as much normalcy as

  possible considering that the last time I’d seen her I’d stormed off, leaving

  behind a heap of giggles and a weekend’s worth of gossip, I’m sure.

  “Just escaped Mr. Irving’s class to see if the biographies he ordered was in

  yet.” She waved a hall pass in my direction.

  “Hold on . . . lemme check.” I reluctantly escaped from my current task.

  “What’s the name?”

  She giggled in an affected girly way and stage-whispered, “That’s what

  I’d like to know.”

  “Well, did you write it down? I need somethin’ to go on.”

  “Not the books . . .” I stared at her, blank-faced. “The hot, new guy absolutely everyone’s talkin’ about,” she clarified.

  “Oh.” This morning a tunnel of girls was going on about him like a pop

  star had been snatched from a live stage somewhere only to land in the middle

  • 116 •

  of our high school parking lot. I was too preoccupied with my family drama to pay much attention to what was going on around me. Like usual.

  “Have you seen him yet?” She positively squealed.

  I plugged a finger in my ear. “Nope. Can’t say that I have.”

  “Oh. My. God! Katie, you cannot believe how gorgeous he is!”

  She obviously needed some kind of response, but I was less than

  enthusiastic about some newcomer who would most likely weave himself

  seamlessly into the CHS social tapestry within a week and then be old hat.

  This event meant nothing to me and my life, unfortunately.

  “Wow. Excitin’ stuff,” I managed, not even remotely sounding like a