by B L Teschner
“What happened to the sick people when your great-grandfather died?” The question came from a short blonde kid up ahead of me.
“They were transferred to other asylums in different parts of the country.” We rounded the back corner and stopped as Martha did. “Over there is the pool and the tennis courts,” she said, pointing them out. “And if you notice, we are completely surrounded by miles of private farmland. My family has always believed that healing is better achieved when the patient can experience the wonderful restorative properties that nature has been proven to administer.”
I rolled my eyes. It sounded more like they were trying to keep people hidden away from society. They just wanted the lunatics to be sent away and forgotten.
“What’s that?” a girl my age asked as she pointed behind us off in the distance. Everyone’s heads turned. My eyebrows drew together as I tried to make out the area amidst the tall dried grass of the flat farmland. It looked like countless rows of decrepit headstones.
“Ah, yes,” Martha said, waving it off. “It’s an old cemetery.”
“A cemetery?” a different younger girl shrieked. “I, I don’t want to live next to a cemetery for two weeks!”
Martha turned around to face the group. “Oh no, my dear, it isn’t scary at all. You see, back when this was an asylum, people would often drop their family members off here permanently. As sad as it is to admit, they would desert them. So when they eventually passed away, it was up to the asylum to give them a proper funeral and bury them, since their families had abandoned them. My great-grandfather and his brother had always taken care of anyone who unfortunately passed away, their deaths mostly from old age.” She clasped her bony fingers together, eager to move on. “So, back to our little history lesson. My grandfather came on board and soon my father who, in nineteen fifty-one, decided to lower the amount of patients even more, and to cater strictly to insane youth. He was responsible for starting what you are all here to experience these upcoming weeks: The Sinner Program. We’ve obviously adapted the program since then to allow for different types of behavioral issues, not just lunacy.” She surveyed the crowd. “After all, I don’t see any lunatics in front of me.” Her lips pulled back with a smile. “At least not in this group.”
Our parents chuckled.
“Why did they call the patients sinners?” someone else asked.
“Yes, it is quite the peculiar name, isn’t it? Well, back in the late eighteen hundreds, certain types of extreme behaviors were thought to be evil. Of course, these days we know that it’s simply a matter of a miswiring in the brain, but back then, they looked at patients suffering from lunacy as evildoers; sinners, if you will. My father, like myself, was a bit sentimental and wanted to pay homage to the old way of things.”
“So why keep the name now?” I asked above the heads of the group. My dad’s head shook in front of me, but he didn’t turn around. “If Mendukiah Lunatic Asylum wasn’t appropriate anymore,” I went on, “why would The Sinner Program be okay?”
Martha’s lips closed with a small smile, and yet there was an almost indiscernible vicious gleam that flickered across her eyes. “What a great question. I’m guilty of keeping the name. My father passed away and as a tribute to him, I wanted to keep it. As I said, I’m a bit sentimental.”
My mom and dad looked at each other with sympathetic smiles. Were they really falling for this load of bull? I know I wasn’t. Sentimental or not, the name was belittling.
“I have a question,” a boy my age said. “Why weren’t we allowed to bring our cell phones?”
“Excellent question. We don’t believe in having any outside communication for the duration of your stay here. No cell phones, no television, no video games… We found them to be distracting to the healing process. In case of an emergency, your family can call the facility and we can call your family as well, but our policy is very strictly enforced, and we do not allow you to personally call them.”
“Can I write them?” the girl who had pointed out the cemetery asked.
“Unfortunately, our mail here is very slow, and since your stay is so short, it doesn’t make sense for us to allow letters of any sort to be mailed.” Her smile widened. “Why, you will get back home before your letter to your parents does.” She walked forward into the group and everyone parted for her to pass through. “That’s pretty much the extent of the tour. If you were on it earlier you saw the cafeteria, gymnasium, and our conference rooms for group therapy. If you weren’t able to see them then I encourage parents to visit them before you leave here today.” The group continued to follow her on the fluffy green grass back around to the front of the building. “You can explore the sleeping quarters as well. These days we only enroll one hundred patients, fifty girls and fifty boys. We want to be sure they are comfortable and that everyone gets the undivided attention they need to heal.” Back at the bottom of the stairs, Martha smiled, revealing the red lipstick smudge on her front tooth. “Thank you for choosing our wonderful program. I can’t wait to help you all succeed in moving forward with a new resolve. Welcome to the Mendukiah Center for Healing.”
The parent’s all applauded with zeal. I eyed some other kids in the group and we watched each other with the same looks on our faces, like we had no idea what we were getting ready to go through together.
Martha left, and the group scattered. My mom offered me a rigid hug. “I want to see your room before we leave.” She pulled away and crossed her arms, offering me a frown. “Please keep an open mind about this and do what you’re told to do.”
“We spent a lot of money on this course,” my dad added.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, you’ve said that more than a few times since you enrolled me.”
“Well I want it engrained in that pot-filled head of yours.”
I sighed and looked off into the distance, trying not to cuss him out. A slight breeze shifted the leaves on the trees, and I could see far off beyond the stretch of barren farmland that dark clouds were forming. “A storm is coming.”
“Looks that way,” my mom agreed. “There are a lot of summer storms in this part of the state.”
I looked back at her and hiked my backpack higher up on my shoulder. “I wasn’t talking about the weather.”
Two
Millie
“Please, Mom. I don’t want to stay here.”
“Well you should have thought about that before you stole whatever you could get your hands on.”
I looked around, hoping the other girls in the room hadn’t heard. “Please keep your voice down.”
Her head shook as she dropped my bag on the bed. “You’re a straight-A student. What happened to my good little girl who always focused on her schoolwork and never did anything wrong?”
“I’m not perfect.”
“No one is but come on, Millie. Stealing?”
A tear streamed down my cheek; I uncrossed an arm and wiped it angrily away. “I told you I was sorry.”
“You told me you were sorry the first time, the second time…” Her arms crossed as she focused over at the closed window, her eyes lost on something far in the distance. “But the last time it happened was your third strike. And you’re out.”
My bottom lip unwillingly pulled in as I tried harder to keep my tears from freely flowing. “Fine. I’ll do your stupid program.”
Her head snapped over at me, a glare heavy in her eyes. “Yeah, you will. Maybe it will help you lose the attitude as well.”
“I only have this attitude because I’m scared and I don’t think I deserve to be here.”
Her arms uncrossed and her expression softened a bit. Stepping forward, she put her arms around me and hugged me tightly before pulling away, sliding her hands up to rest on my shoulders. “You’re absolutely right,” she agreed, speaking just above a whisper. “You don’t think.”
* * *
The cafeteria was buzzing with the loud voices of over-anxious teenagers settling in and trying to make sense of the
ir new living situations. I didn’t feel like eating, but apparently the program had strict guidelines we had to adhere to when it came to that kind of stuff.
I got in line and grabbed a plastic tray that reminded me of the ones we had at my school, with different shaped compartments hollowed out for the food. The first item on the dinner menu was pot roast smothered in brown gravy, and next to that was corn, peas, mashed potatoes, salad, and slices of pie down toward the end. Everything looked and smelled fantastic, which I would hope would be the case since our parents paid so much for us to be here. I went down the line and picked a few things, allotting myself a small amount so I at least had a little something on my stomach.
At the end of the line I turned around and faced the noisy cafeteria. It seemed like everyone was already getting along, chatting excitedly at their tables. Just like at my high school. And I was alone and trying to scan the crowd for a friendly face. Just like at my high school.
Right before I was about to give up hope, I saw a girl with short bobbed black hair and a little too much makeup, smiling at me and waving me over. I couldn’t help but smile back as I willingly went to her as if she were a Siren and I was a lost ship on the ocean.
“Hi,” she said before I could sit down across from her. “I’m Layla.”
“I’m Millie.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” I nervously sat down and leaned forward, plucking a fork from a decorative tin cup on the table that held a handful of silverware, minus any knives. “The food looks so good, doesn’t it?”
Layla smiled. “Tastes good, too. I bet there’s poison in it.”
I stopped just short of sinking my fork into my mashed potatoes, my eyes cutting up at her. “What?”
Her smile widened. “I’m just joking. They wouldn’t be able to get away with killing us all, at least not at once.”
My face relaxed and I decided to take a bite. “Yeah, they would have to have a pretty good cover up story, wouldn’t they?”
“Totally.” She took a bite herself. “It would make sense, though. Our parents sending us here to take some stupid program that claims to cure us in two weeks…” Her lipstick-covered lips twitched. “Maybe they just sent us here to put us out of our misery.”
It felt like it. “So, where are you from?” I asked.
“Nevada. You?”
“Indiana.”
“Nice. You like it there?”
“It’s all I’ve ever known, so, I guess.”
“Well you should come to Nevada sometime. It’s great.”
I enjoyed a bite of pot roast and chewed while watching her eat hers. She was an interesting girl so far, that was for sure. Very different from my friends back at home. But she was nice and welcomed me over, so that was all that really mattered to me. She did seem to have a chip on her shoulder, though. I was sure most of the kids in the program probably did. Heck, even I did.
I swallowed and took a napkin from the center of the table, wiping my mouth. “So, what are you in for?”
She looked up at me, her dark drawn-on eyebrow arching high on her forehead while her lips curled up deviously. “You really wanna know?”
“Sure,” I smiled.
“Sex.”
My eyes widened. “Oh…” I was kind of at a loss for words. “Well, that’s…that’s…”
Her eyebrow relaxed as she happily forked some salad. “My dad sent me here,” she went on without waiting for me to find my words. “He found out I was bangin’ too many guys and he kinda flipped his lid.” She put the salad in her mouth and continued to talk around her bite. “Funny thing is, he doesn’t even know I’ve been with more than the ones he knows about. Imagine how mad he would be if he knew the exact number.” She chuckled and shoveled in another bite. “I don’t really know what the big deal is, you know? I mean, I’m going to be a senior this year. And it’s my body, and I use protection.”
I nodded as if I knew anything about sex and protection. “Yeah, totally.”
She watched me quietly for a few moments. “So what about you? Something tells me you’re not in here for sex…”
“No,” I agreed with a smile. “Stealing, actually.”
Once again, her perfect eyebrow lifted. “Stealing?”
“Yep.”
She seemed intrigued. “Wow. So that means I gotta hide my stuff from you, huh?”
“Nah,” I smiled. “It’s not something I plan on continuing.”
“Especially after this program gets through with you.”
“Yeah, with it’s one hundred percent success rate, and all…”
Her brown eyes rolled. “Now you tell me how any program has a one hundred percent success rate. Nothing has a one hundred percent success rate; not even condoms.”
I sat my fork down on my plate and leaned forward. “They don’t?” I asked quietly.
Her voice kept its loud tone. “Nope. It’s like ninety-eight percent or something like that; less if you get some idiot who doesn’t know what he’s doing and puts it on wrong.”
I looked around, hoping no one was listening in on our conversation. “I take health class this year. I heard they’re gonna make us put one on a banana.”
Her head pulled back with surprise. “What grade are you going into?”
“I’ll be a junior.”
“And you haven’t taken health yet? I took health when I was a freshman.”
I leaned back to my previous position and picked my fork up, stabbing at my potatoes. “My mom kept me out of it. Said she wasn’t ready for me to learn about sex yet.”
“That’s lame.” I kept my head down as she put another bite in her mouth. “Don’t worry,” she assured me as she chewed, “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“Hey, ladies,” a boy greeted us, sitting down next to Layla. “Name’s Dwayne Hatch. Mind if I sit here?”
Layla and I looked at each other and shrugged happily. “Not at all,” she answered. “I’m Layla.” She nodded over at me. “This is Millie.”
“Hi,” I said with a smile.
His white smile broadened. “I figured you girls looked friendly enough.”
“I would hope so,” I joked before eating another bite.
He dove into his food, choosing to eat his large slice of pie first. “You’d be surprised how many fools are walkin’ around in here.”
“I’ve met a few already,” Layla agreed.
“Hopefully I’m not one of them,” I put in with a laugh.
She chuckled back. “Nope. I think you’re one of the good ones.”
Her compliment made me smile. “What grade will you be in this year?” I asked our new friend.
“I’ll be a junior. What about you guys?”
“Junior,” I answered.
“Senior,” Layla put in.
His head bobbed up and down. “Nice. Where are you ladies from?”
“Nevada.”
“Indiana.”
“I’m from California.”
“Ooh, I love California,” Layla gushed. “My aunt lives in Hollywood.”
“Is she rich, too?” he chuckled.
Her eyebrow arched as she smiled. “One of the richest.”
He took another bite of pie. “So, what were you two sent here for?”
“Stealing.”
“Sex.”
His eyebrows raised at Layla’s answer, but he kept focused on eating his pie. “Well it sounds like I’m in good company then.”
Layla and I exchanged smiles. “What are you in for?” she asked him. “Dealing drugs?”
His head jerked over at her as he continued to chew. “What, just because I’m black you automatically think I’m in here for dealing drugs?”
Layla laughed, not caring that she offended him. “Well, when you look at me, what do you think I’m in here for?”
The corner of his mouth tugged back with a smile. “You already told me what you’re here for.”
“But if I hadn�
�t told you…”
He focused back on eating. “Sex.”
“That’s right,” she said happily.
His head shook, and he chuckled quietly. “I’m in here for gambling. I kept losing my allowance making bad bets and crap. My dad finally found out about it when I bet his Rolex; I lost that bet. I’d never seen him so angry.” He slid the last bite of pie into his mouth. “So, for him that was the last straw. He signed me up for this stupid program and the rest is history.”
I watched him chomp away and couldn’t help but smile. “Well, at least they have pie.”
He looked up, his forehead wrinkling from his widening grin. “You got that right. I’m a sucker for sweets. My parents think I’m a little pudgy, but I don’t care what they say; I like myself, and I like my candy. I won’t give it up for anybody.”
Three
Toby
I gawked at her from across the cafeteria. There she was, smiling at the boy across from her, the corners of her eyes wrinkling happily. I just had to talk to her somehow. For whatever reason, I was drawn to this girl. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful, it was like I already could tell that her soul was a match for mine. Crazy, I know, since I hadn’t met her yet. I wanted to hear her voice; I wanted to see those green eyes of hers up close again and engage with her in any way possible, even if it were small.
With one foot in front of the other, I carried my tray of food to their table, seemingly floating the whole way there. It was like an out-of-body experience; I was no longer in control of my actions. I didn’t even know what I was going to say. I was one table away when I could feel my hands start to sweat. What am I doing? I had no plan of action whatsoever. It wasn’t like me. I was so calm and collected at my school. But, most of the time I had girls coming up to me. There just hadn’t been any at my school that I felt like pursuing on my own. This girl was different.
