The Academie (11 page)

“
And it wasn’t just
Hitler. Hitler was able to do what he did because many people
supported him and many others didn’t object. Many turned a blind
eye or believed the claims the government made. They refused to see
what was going on right in front of them. And perhaps…after a
while, they were too afraid to object.”

I sat there silently, not sure where
she was going with this history lesson.

“
You have
family—ancestors—that were mixed up in this conflict. Did you know
that?”

I nodded. I knew that I had relatives
who fought in the war. Besides, as an American, I knew I was one of
the good guys. We went in and ended World War II. I felt proud of
being part of that heritage.

“
My family, as you should
know, is from England. My father fought in the war against
Germany.” I nodded my head proudly. That part of the story I knew
well.

“
My husband—your
grandfather—his family was from Germany.”

“
Yeah, that’s about all I
know about them.”

“
His family was Jewish,
Allie.”

I choked on my pumpkin bar. “What?
How? Grandpa was Catholic.”

“
I know. Grandpa never
wanted to speak of it because his mother was so ashamed. She did
not approve when he converted. She thought he was turning his back
on his family, his heritage.”

She paused and looked at
me.

“
Her brother—your great
uncle—died in a German concentration camp.”

My mouth fell open. Pumpkin bar crumbs
tumbled out, but I couldn’t react.

She took a large breath. “Do you know
your father’s family history?”

I shook my head.

She waited, and finally I willed
myself to speech: “English and German?” I was afraid of where this
might lead. She nodded and waited for me to continue. “I don’t know
much. I just know that Grandma’s family was German and she was very
happy to become a Thompson.”

“
Yes, she was. She was
very happy to give up her German surname. That’s because her father
was a German officer.” My heart began to race. “He ran a
concentration camp.”

“
Oh grandma,
no.”

“
I’m sorry
dear.”

I felt sick.

“
Now, I didn’t tell you
this so that you would think badly of your father or your father’s
family. My family doesn’t hold ill-will and neither should
you.”

“
But how? You must have
been outraged when mom wanted to marry dad,” I said. My voice
echoed coldly through the quiet house.

“
No honey,” she answered
softly. “We saw that they were in love. And if anything is going to
heal the world, it’s love.”

I shook my head, unable to take it all
in. She put her hand on mine and continued. “I am not a supporter
of The Academie for reasons you might now imagine. The idea of
locking up any group of people against their will is just—” She cut
herself off and shook her head. “—and the idea that they are
locking up young people—” She sighed and continued shaking her
head.

We sat there in silence as she
recomposed herself. Then she spoke again. “I gave you this journal
because I thought you might need it. When I was younger—before my
hands stopped working like they did—” she held up her hands to show
how they had become gnarled with arthritis— “I kept a journal. A
lot of girls kept journals back then. Many would write things about
their day or about boys, but I wrote about things that were going
on in my life—things I was trying to sort out or make decisions on.
I found that it helped me organize my thoughts.”

She looked at me. “With all that you
are going through, I thought you might have a need for a journal
now.”

Still holding my journal, I fell
asleep that night thinking about Grandma and Andy, and imagining
ways to escape The Academie.

15.
daytime nightmares

The next day, I was sitting in Basic
Algebra when I started to feel really sick. While Sergeant Prattle
rambled about variables in her deep, scratchy tone, I felt myself
fading fast.

At first I couldn’t tell if I was
going to throw up or pass out. I debated running to the restroom
when things started to go dark and the high-pitched squeal began in
my ears. My arms were heavy as I pulled them onto desk and let my
head flop down.

Slowly the squeal dissolved into
rhythmic beeping. Then voices.

“
I’m telling you, I think
they’re dangerous.”

“
But what you suggest is
madness. We can’t leave them until they’re thirty.”

“
But when we offer our
case, when we explain the threat they pose, they’ll consider it. If
they stay until thirty, then perhaps they will be
different?”

“
I don’t know, Ivan. What
about the dangers the system might pose to them?”

“
What dangers? They are
perfectly safe—we’re all safe—and they will be in better shape than
any of us were at that age and smarter too—thanks to
us!”

“
Maybe…. I’ll have to run
more tests. We can’t be rash about this.”

The voices sounded distant in my head.
I struggled to open my eyes and—finding I couldn’t—began to
panic.

I tried to move, but
couldn’t.

My heart raced.

I couldn’t breathe.

Where am I? What was going
on?

The beeping quickened.

“
Woa! We’ve got a
blinker!” a man’s voice bellowed. I heard rapid footsteps—dress
shoes on tile—growing louder.

“
It’s going to be okay,
dear.” Someone was so close. So close I could feel their breath on
my face.

I still couldn’t see.
“Just a bad dream…” His voice was gentle like the grandfathers in
movies.
Tap. Click. Click.
Beeeep….

“
ALATHEA!” Sergeant
Prattle shouted. I attempted to pull my head from the crook of my
arm and realized my hair was stuck to my face in a
less-than-attractive fashion. As my eyes began to focus, it became
clear that not only was Sergeant Prattle staring at me, but the
entire class as well.

“
Class time is not sleep
time, young lady. Now, can you tell me the solution to the
equation?”

I gazed sleepily at the board, trying
to snap life back into focus.

“
Alathea, we don’t have
all day!”

My classmates stared and tapped their
pencils. Tina glared at me from her corner seat.

I scribbled the problem into my
notebook and attempted to solve it. “42?” I said, for once not
entirely sure of my answer. Everything was still a bit fuzzy in my
head.

“
That is incorrect, and
you are wasting our time. Mr. Barrett, could you provide us with
the
correct
answer?”

“
The answer is 47, ma’am,”
he replied smugly.

“
That is correct,” Prattle
said, glaring back at me.

16.
the path to enlightenment

“
Are you alright?” Stevie
asked after class.

“
Yeah, I guess so.
Thanks.”

“
I haven’t been sleeping
well either.”

“
Actually, I thought I
slept pretty good last night. I don’t really know what
happened.”

“
Bodies are weird. You’ve
been through a lot of changes recently—we all have. It could just
be everything getting to you.”

“
Yeah, that’s true.” I
said, still feeling fuzzy about the whole thing.

The rest of the day went on without
incident, and in the evening I met Stevie and Shara back in the
dorm.

“
We’re going to meditate
here?” I asked.

“
What did you
expect?”

“
I don’t know…a dark
room…candles… incense…relaxing music?

“
This isn’t a massage
treatment,” Shara answered. “It’s meditation,”

Stevie looked at me and
shrugged.

“
Yeah, but how are we
supposed to relax with all these distractions?” I asked, looking at
the dozens of girls bustling around the room.

“
This place is perfect. If
you can learn to shut out all this, you’ll be on your way to
enlightenment in no time.”

I shook my head. “Okay…What do we
do?”

“
Fold your blanket into a
square and lay it on the floor. She demonstrated with her own and
Stevie and I followed her lead. “Then we sit
cross-legged.”

“
Aren’t we supposed to sit
all yoga style?” Stevie asked, trying to pull her feet up on top of
her knees.

“
Don’t hurt yourself,”
Shara said, shaking her head but smiling. “Cross-legged is
fine.”

Stevie laughed as her yoga efforts
failed and she fell over. She giggled and sat up again. “Okay. I’m
ready. What do we do next?”

“
Find your center,” Shara
said. Stevie and I looked at one another. “Center yourselves.” We
glanced at each other again. “Focus here,” Shara said, pointing at
her stomach. “Then close your eyes and lay your hands palms up, on
your knees.”

“
Now focus on clearing
your mind.” Shara’s voice was soft and gentle. “Each time a thought
enters your mind, imagine it washing away down a peaceful
stream.”

No sooner had we begun and
a river was coursing through my brain. I tried to drive the
thoughts away, but they just kept coming. First I thought about my
immediate surroundings—the other girls of the dorm—their voices,
footsteps, the strange looks they were probably giving us, and the
bustling sounds near the bathroom. Then I thought about the
day—people, places, faces, Algebra, the men I heard in my
dream.
What did they say?
And then, at last, my thoughts settled on
Bryan.

It was Anna—Bryan’s mom—who had
finally gotten us together. After the Academie Expansion Act was
signed into law, Bryan had asked that I send her a message. What
resulted was an ongoing stream of emails between us, until finally,
I got the message I’d been hoping for.

Allie,

We’re getting Bryan home
for a night in August! Now I just need your mom or dad’s phone
number—if you don’t mind—to make sure it’s okay with your
parents.

We’re looking forward to
meeting you.

Anna

I immediately replied with my phone
number and apologized for any trouble she might get from my
parents. How she was going to convince them, I had absolutely no
idea. I worried every day from that point on and judged each of my
parent’s responses to determine whether or not Anna had phoned them
yet. Sure enough, the next day mom interrogated me.

“
So, I talked with a Mrs.
Allen today,” she said.

“
Oh, she called
you?”

“
Yes, she mentioned that
you and her son were close, and she wanted you to come and visit to
celebrate his birthday before school starts.”

I was surprised to hear her mention
Bryan’s birthday, but I tried not to let my surprise show. “So,
what did you tell her?”

“
I said it was
fine.”

I tried not to look excited so she
wouldn’t ask too many questions.

“
Oh good. Thanks mom. I
know it will mean a lot to them.”
Not to
mention me.

“
It seemed very important
to her.”

“
Yes, they’ve missed him a
lot since he’s been away at…school,” I said, hedging, “At least
that’s what Bryan’s said.”

“
So are you guys….should I
be worried?”

“
No mom. We’re just
friends.” I felt confident in my response.
It wasn’t a lie. We hadn’t even met yet.

“
So, did she happen to
mention
when
they
want me to visit?”

“
August
15
^th
—it’s a Saturday.”

I sighed inaudibly and counted the
days in my head. Almost two full months.

But the weeks sped by, and before I
knew it, we were celebrating Andy’s eighth pretend
birthday.

“
So, only thirty-five days
left till we meet
,” Bryan said online one
night.

truth: You’re counting?

zxbfeie: You’re not?

The truth was, I tried not
to. In the time since I first got the confirmation of our visit,
two things occurred to me: 1. I was scared to meet Bryan because we
had become so close. Online he was the perfect boyfriend.
What if he wasn’t in real life?
2. I was afraid to meet Bryan because meeting him
meant that I only had a few days left of freedom before I started
at The Academie.

These two things sent me into a panic,
troubling my sleep and making life difficult to say the
least.