The Academy (The Academy Saga Book 1)

by CJ Daly

  “You wook even pwettiuh.”

  I smiled and hustled us into the store. “Thanks, hon. But don’t get too

  used to it—I’m buyin’ another pair today.”

  Mikey relayed his objections as I pushed through the aisles, grabbing the

  staples we needed: bread, peanut butter, orange juice, all got tossed into the

  cart out of habit. But once we hit the cereal aisle, his argument switched from

  my glasses to a battle over brands. In the end, I caved to the cocoa-flavored

  puffs with the silly cartoon characters. After all . . . I had a few extra bucks

  today, so we could afford to splurge on an extra box with a prize inside. After

  adding tomato sauce and spaghetti noodles for Italian night, I headed to

  the optometry department to buy another pair of prescription-free glasses. I

  planned to carry on the charade Mama had insisted on “for my protection,”

  realizing these past couple of weeks, she might not have died in a state of

  paranoia after all.

  “No, no, no, Kadee!” Mikey started up again with his petition against

  glasses. “I don’t weawly wike you as good with your gwasses on.” He patted

  my face to take the sting out. “. . . But I stiwl wuv you.”

  I sighed. “Fine. You win . . . again.” We were running short on time

  anyway, and I was starving. “Let’s get outta here and grab some ice cream.”

  “Yay!” He threw his arms around my neck, and I smiled, accepting the

  loss with good grace. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of energy to go

  against young Mikey—energy I didn’t have today.

  Next to the checkout line was a display of end-of-season sunglasses on sale

  among the miscellaneous nonessentials used to entice bored customers into

  purchasing last minute items. I’d always been instructed to stick to my list,

  but today it seemed serendipitous for them to be right in front of my nose like

  candy when I had an extra twenty in my pocket. So I tried on a few, peering

  • 212 •

  at myself in the miniscule mirror then checking back with Mr. Opinionated.

  After giggling together over the more outrageous ones, we finally narrowed

  it down. In the end, the cat-eye tortoise-shell we both liked knocked out the

  knock-off Ray-Bans.

  Pretty soon me and my new sunglasses were rolling a full shopping cart

  and a chirpy four-year-old to the Hatchback, where I unloaded groceries under

  his supervision. On the way to pick up Andrew, we swung into a drive-in

  burger joint for some ice cream.

  “We should buy one for Pete!” Mikey suggested.

  “What a great idea,” I said, wondering what it would feel like to not have

  to worry about money for a change, while I dug some of that out of the ashtray.

  “What kind do you think he’d like?” I thought over the foods I’d seen him

  eat. Somehow, I got the impression he would frown on imitation ice cream.

  Mikey debated a moment. “Probly choc’late like me.”

  “Hmm. I was thinkin’ vanilla,” I teased.

  “How ‘bout a choc’late and banilla swirl?”

  I laughed and ordered three chocolate and vanilla swirls, leaving myself

  out because I didn’t have quite enough money for four. An overly friendly

  boy with splotchy skin brought out the cones in a tray. As soon as he handed

  them over, I backed out feeling bad because I’d cut him off—I never seemed

  to have enough time or money.

  “Stop!” Mikey screamed in the panicked voice usually reserved for parents

  who accidently forgot to pick up their kid from school. “They forgot one!”

  “No they didn’t,” I soothed. “I’m not really hungry today.” A stomach

  growl at that precise moment contradicted me.

  “Kadee, guess what?”

  “You’re crazy and I’m not?”

  Mikey laughed his head off like that was the funniest joke ever told.

  “No!” He shook his head at me. “I’ve never not been hungwy for ice cweam

  before . . . that’s cwazy!”

  We rolled up laughing into the empty parking lot to see Pete and Andrew

  peering intently under the hood of the Hummer. I rolled my eyes. Must be

  a Y-chromosome thing. My theory was proven correct when Mikey let out a

  whoop of excitement like there was a pop-up circus camped out there.

  “I wanna see! I wanna see!” He almost fell out the door in his hurry to

  scramble out.

  I relieved Mikey of the decimated remains of his cone and began wiping

  off his sticky hands, but he was harder to hold on to than a greased pig.

  Finally, I just gave up and let him go. He went squealing straight to Pete,

  • 213 •

  who didn’t miss a beat—he scooped him up and tossed him in the air. After catching him, he held on to him to show him the fascinating engine. The

  infectious giggles I loved to hear spread quickly to Pete and Andrew like the

  laughing fairy had paid them a visit. Pete found my eyes, his smile turning

  into a grin.

  Mine turned wistful. A sensation like a long-held wish—one that I didn’t

  even realize I’d been harboring—was being fulfilled. It was a purely good

  feeling that seeped into every nook and cranny of my being. Seeing Pete and

  the boys like this: with easy, natural smiles on their faces. Like— Poof! —

  everything was exactly as it should be.

  Pete looked over at me standing with dripping cones in my hands and

  set Mikey down to head my way. As he closed the distance between us, the

  feeling only intensified until it became a burning sensation in my chest. This

  is it. Exactly what I want in life. Laid out before me on this asphalt parking lot. Seeing it up-close-in-person made it so tangible I could almost taste it.

  Like it would be as easy as reaching out to lick one of the creamy cones in my

  hands. I wanted it so much it hurt my soul. The want hardened into a need.

  I was afraid to so much as blink in case I disturbed the sensation.

  Pete looked at me quizzically. “Need a hand?”

  I was pretty sure my inappropriate feelings were written all over my face

  so was grateful to my new sunglasses for shading the windows to my soul.

  “Um . . .” I snapped out of it to hand him a cone. “This is for you.” I smiled

  ruefully. “At least pretend—Mikey insisted.”

  Pete grinned before taking a long lick of melting ice cream. “Mmmm.

  Chocolate and vanilla mixed is my favorite!” he said loudly enough to catch

  the ears of Mikey, who beamed as proudly as if he’d scooped it himself.

  “I tole you, Kadee!” he crowed. “It was my idea Pete! . . . But Kadee paid

  for it,” he confessed.

  “Well, that was really nice of both of you,” Pete said. We strolled together

  to the Hummer, where I handed Andrew the last cone.

  “No sittin’ inside until you’re all finished, okay?”

  “Duh,” Andrew retorted.

  “Hey!” I grabbed his arm. “Lose the ‘tude, dude.”

  “OK. Okay?” He snatched his arm away.

  My forehead and mouth formed parallel lines. Andrew had always been

  a bit precocious, but lately that was bordering on disrespect, and my feelings

  were hurt. Doesn’t he appreciate how hard I’ve been fighting for him?

  “Hey, man,” Pete intervened pleasantly. “That was pretty cool of your

  sister and brother to bring
you ice cream, don’t you think?”

  • 214 •

  Andrew’s ears pinkened. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah’s not going to cut it at The Academy, Andy,” Pete reprimanded

  lightly. “I know you’ve been taught good manners because I’ve spent time

  with you. It’s part of what sets you apart—in a good way. And I expect more

  than just common courtesy for your sister. Do you understand?” Pete looked

  down on Andrew with a little more intensity now.

  Andrew’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yes, sir,” he croaked then his eyes found

  mine. “I’m sorry, Katie. Thanks for the ice cream.”

  I smiled warmly and gave him a hug, despite the fact I could tell he didn’t

  want me to. “That’s okay, Drews—it’s already forgotten.”

  “Hey!” Andrew simultaneously broke from the awkwardness and my

  grasp. “Can we please take a ride in the Hummer today? You said we could,

  remember?”

  “It’s okay with me,” I agreed, “but you have to ask the owner of the

  Hummer first.”

  Andrew’s face brightened. “Can we, Pete? I mean may we please take a

  ride in your Hummer?”

  “Yeah, I mean yes, sir. Can we pwease take a ride in the Hummer?”

  seconded Mikey, who was in the midst of his rendition of an irresistible face.

  Pete laughed and reached down to hoist Mikey back up. “You can save

  the hard sell for another time, bud. I said I would. And we’ll do it—just as

  soon as your sister helps me finish my ice cream.” His smile scorched me, and

  I felt warm in places I oughtn’t to feel warm in the presence of my brothers.

  “Nice lens, by the way,” Pete commented, throwing his free arm over my

  shoulder. We leaned against his truck trading licks of creamy sweetness. And

  I swear: I got the strongest sensation he was as happy in that moment as I was.

  • 215 •

  20

  GOOD FEELING GONE

  The ride around the parking lot, turned into a ride around the block,

  which turned into a ride around the town. By the time we circled

  back, it was way past time to go home. So we skedaddled back,

  driving through a fiery sun melting into the endless highway. A pleasant

  hum escaped my lips as I replayed the—ahem— pleasant afternoon I’d spent

  with Pete. I did this while simultaneously listening to the boys’ rendition of

  their afternoon. The instant replay and laughter indicated the extent to which

  everyone had a good time.

  Felt really good to have a good time, yunno? I couldn’t remember the last

  time I’d felt . . . dare I say it— happy.

  I stopped off at Mrs. Hildebrand’s for milk and then at the mailbox, still

  halfway dreaming about the very dreamy Peter Davenport. While sorting

  through the mail, my fingers came across a familiar envelope. My humming

  ceased like someone clamped a hand over my mouth.

  Good feeling gone.

  I easily extracted it from the rest of the junk mail, because it stood out like

  Cadet Davenport did from the rest of the high school students—glossy and

  of much higher quality. The parcel even managed to arrive from two states

  away to land in this dilapidated mailbox without a smudge, dent, or crease. It

  positively reeked of money and prestige. I hated it immediately.

  Was it simply the green-eyed monster in me creating these ill feelings?

  I immediately dismissed the idea. No, it ran much deeper than that. It

  was an evil feeling that overcame me every time I thought of that academy.

  The visceral feeling only intensified the closer I was in proximity to the

  paperwork. Why is that?

  I’d been on autopilot, so completely forgot about the fact that Daddy

  • 216 •

  wanted me to let him get the mail from now on . But do I want to let him get his hands on it? I debated how much trouble I would be in. Heaps.

  Andrew leaned forward. “Is that The Academy paperwork?”

  “Yup,” I replied, shuffling it back in with the other mail.

  “Awesome! Pete’s been askin’ me if we received it yet. He said if not, then

  he could just print him a copy or have Daddy sign right on his computer and

  shoot it back to The Academy right away.”

  “How helpful of him.” I noticed he referred to that . . . place using the

  same language as Pete now.

  “That’s his job, Kate,” Andrew pointed out.

  “Right.” And to keep me out of the loop. I thought back to our encounters

  and realized that he’d mostly avoided talking about his academy with me at all.

  Impressive Cadet Davenport. I mentally kicked myself for my lost opportunity this afternoon. What had happened to my fact-finding mission? I’d been too

  busy having fun to bother asking questions.

  How remiss of me . . . or how clever of him.

  I hissed out some self-loathing. I was letting Mama down. This was the

  exact scenario she was afraid of. And I was doing nothing more than sitting

  back and watching it unfold right before my very eyes. Too wrapped up in

  a romantic interlude with one of their cadets to actually fight against them

  taking over my family like a nest of hornets feasting on honeycomb.

  “Can I see it?” Andrew asked with the reverence one used for a rare artifact.

  I thought of those metal detectors and that bogus excuse of using them

  for Indian arrowheads. They thought I was stupid. I thought of Pete saying

  the mission would be like “taking candy from a baby.” They thought I was

  easy. A burn started in my stomach. I thought of my wanton behavior in the

  park . . . They thought I was a country bimbo. The burn worked its way up

  to my chest.

  I didn’t hesitate further. “Here ya go, Drews.” I tossed the envelope behind

  me. “Knock yourself out.”

  “Yeah!” He actually fist-pumped before tearing into it like a birthday

  present.

  Daddy would be furious he opened it without his permission, but Andrew

  would most likely not be punished as severely as me for disobeying his orders.

  I decided it was worth the risk to see what was inside. Knowledge was power,

  and I got the distinct feeling I was being left in the Dark Ages.

  “Anything interestin’ in there?” I asked.

  “Ah . . . yeah.” Andrew was already perusing the materials inside, oblivious

  to all else.

  • 217 •

  “Wemember, you gotta say yes, sir,” Mikey corrected.

  Nobody responded to that, and we drove the rest of the way in silence. As

  soon as I cut the engine, Blue jumped on my window, his barks and whines as

  impatient as my curiosity. I was about eaten up with it, so I turned around to

  stare at my brother’s face as he silently read. The mental wheels were turning

  feverishly in his mind.

  “Wel ?”

  “Um.” His eyes found mine. “What’s a stipend?”

  My heart speeded up. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because we’re gettin’ one in the sum of . . .”—he unfolded a blue check

  that dropped from the envelope—“two thousand dollars.” Andrew’s brows

  knitted together. “Why are they giving us money? Shouldn’t it be the other

  way around?”

  Mikey whooped, thrashing his feet against the seat. “Two thousand

  dollars! We’re wich!”

  I snatched the
check from Andrew’s hand. “Lemme see that!” My eyes

  quickly scanned down. Under for: endowment was written in elegant script.

  Endowment? Well I guess they couldn’t exactly put down bribe. I dropped the dang thing like it was hot. Seemed like it was messengered straight from hell.

  What could this possibly mean for our family? And then the burning question came: Had Pete, our IEA ambassador, put them up to it?

  I felt an unpleasant jolt. It made sense. He knew things were tight for us,

  and that I was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of my brother joining

  their ranks. Does he think greasing the wheels would get us moving faster to the finish line? After all, I distinctly remember him saying that if Ranger hadn’t of ruined everything then he would’ve been out of here in a week or two—tops.

  I ground my teeth together. If he did, that was a huge miscalculation on

  his part. The only silver lining was that Daddy absolutely loathed rich people

  throwing money around to get their way. Hopefully, their plan to buy us off

  would backfire. This could be just the thing I needed to swing the pendulum

  back my way.

  “Kadee? What’s wong?” Mikey wondered. “You wook mad.”

  Andrew grunted and smacked the backseat with the back of his head. “Of

  course she’s mad—something good’s happenin’ to me, and she can’t stand it!”

  He finally vented out the way I already suspected he felt.

  But still. His words hit me like a whap from a tree branch you’d always counted on to provide you shade. Tears sprang to my eyes. “Is that really what

  you think, Drews?” Andrew shrugged his shoulders, refusing to meet my eyes.

  The brimming tears spilled over.

  • 218 •

  “No he doesn’t!” Mikey yelled at me, and then his brother as if the force of his words could force a change of heart. “No you don’t!”

  Blue was clawing at the driver’s door now, adding scratches to the already

  pockmarked door. I sighed and shouldered my way out to greet our neglected

  pet. After letting him lick the salt from my face, I opened the door for Mikey

  and caught him right in the middle of commanding big brother to tell me it

  wasn’t true. I stared long and hard at Andrew.

  “I’m sorry, Katie. I didn’t really mean it,” Andrew said with zero conviction.

  “I toldja he didn’t mean it!” Mikey repeated.

  My gut disagreed, but I gave Andrew a ghost of a smile.