Type (11 page)

Emily doesn’t answer, but instead starts pulling down the streamers and stuffing them back into my suitcase. I dump the bowls of chips into a plastic bag and hide it under my bed. Grabbing a pair of scissors, I begin popping all of the balloons. Somehow we manage to un-decorate the room in less than two minutes. Breathless, we sit down side by side on my bed and open our French textbooks on our laps.

“There it is, see!” Jana says from the hallway. “Look at the party! Without your permission!”

I look up at Ms. Williams as she steps into our room. “Party? Is there a party?” I ask innocently.

“She’s lying!” Jana shouts, pointing at me. I look at her and smile. Her face is all sweaty, with hair falling out of her ponytail.

Ms. Williams walks around the room, looking this way and that. “Girls? Did you have a social gathering here without my consent?”

“Of course not!” I say, then elbow Emily in the side.

“No, ma’am,” Emily whispers, not looking up.

“But…they did have a party, they did!” Jana says. “Go ask the other girls on the floor if you don’t believe me!”

“I think I have seen enough here, Jana,” Ms. Williams says. “And I would appreciate it if in the future you don’t pull me away from a meeting to come to see a party that you have obviously invented in your head, for reasons that I don’t quite understand.” She pauses. “I’m afraid this behaviour will mean two points taken off of your Ribbon score.”

“But that’s not fair!”

“Would you prefer to make it three?” Ms. Williams asks in a steely tone.

Jana looks down and shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Williams,” she whispers.

Ms. Williams nods, then heads to the door. “I trust there will be no more shenanigans tonight,” she says, before leaving.

Jana waits a moment, then turns towards me. “How dare you do this to me!” Her voice is shaking and for a moment I almost feel sorry for her.
Almost, but not quite
. All I wanted was to have a little party!

“Remember, no more shenanigans,” I answer, before ignoring her. I try not to smile, but can’t help it. This has been the most excitement I’ve had since I arrived at ISTJ.
Maybe life here won’t be so bad, after all.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Although most thoughtful people consider the use of stereotypes small-minded and prejudiced, we all rely on generalizations about other to enable us to behave appropriately toward them.

—Morton Hunt

After a week
of not talking to me, Jana starts to treat me like she used to—as some stupid little child, rather than as a threat. Sometimes I notice her staring at me, but don’t think anything of it. So she used to be the queen bee of our Floor and now she’s not. So what? She needs to get over it.

For Saturday lunch I again ask Noah to come to our table. I always feel better when he’s with me. Within a minute of sitting down, Emily starts talking about the day hike that’s coming up.

“That could be good and everything,” I say, “but I still don’t get why my sister gets to have all these other fun things and all we get is a hike!”

“But I’ve heard this hike is amazing,” Emily says. “You get to walk wherever you want up this huge hill with all of these rocks. You don’t have to stay in line or anything!”

I snort, then regret it, when I see Emily’s hurt face. “I’m sorry, it just seems so…lame compared to what my sister got to do at our age. Bowling, dances, laser tag, tons of stuff! I mean, I know we’re Intros and everything, but we do still want to have fun, right!”

“What is it about you and parties, anyway?” Jana says, her voice hard. “Sometimes you don’t seem like an ISTJ at all.”

“It just seems unfair,” I say.

“If you think that’s unfair, you should see what the INTJs and the ENTJs get,” Noah says.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s just say once you’re identified as INTJ or ENTJ, life is pretty sweet.”

“Of course they get treated well,” Jana says. “The future of The Association depends on them.”

“Depends on a bunch of Secondary kids? How?” I look around the table.
Why does everyone seem to know more about stuff than me
?

“Soph, it’s just that the Last Years in INTJ and ENTJ all get interviewed to see if they should be picked to go to the Departmental Academy. They’re the ones who’ll get trained to be Association Psychologists, and end up helping all the rest of us, just like your father. I think that they
deserve
to get the best of everything.” I hate when Jana uses her teacher voice on me, like I’m a child who needs to be taught a lesson.

At the mention of my father I become quiet. It seems so strange to me that my father is a part of all of this and yet I know next to nothing.
What else has he been keeping from me, his own daughter
?

“And isn’t your dad an ENTJ?” Jana asks.

“Yeah. So?”

“So, he’s a second-generation Association Psychologist, right? Which means he was one of the first students picked by the initial Association Psychologists to go to the Departmental Academy. And where would he have been picked from? An ENTJ Home School! And look at all the good work he’s done!” Jana pauses. “Don’t you think that your father would have deserved to have all the best of everything?”

I ignore Jana and turn to look at Noah. “I always thought that anyone could be a Psychologist if they wanted to, as long as they worked hard enough.”

“Worked hard enough and stayed out of Harmony!” Noah snorts.

“Okay, so yeah. Worked hard enough and stayed out of Harmony.” I stare at him. “Is that not true?”

“That’s true if you are an ENTJ or an INTJ. If not, it’s too bad for you,” he shrugs.

“So if I wanted to apply to the Departmental Academy after graduation to become a Psychologist, they wouldn’t let me? Even if I had great grades and everything?”

“You got it,” Noah says.

“I doubt you’d be well suited to be in The Association,” Jana sniffs. “No ISTJ would.”

“I think you’re wrong,” I tell Jana. “Maybe most of the Psychologists come from those two Home Schools, but I know for a fact that anyone who really wants to try and go to the Departmental Academy can at least apply.”

“Really?” asks Emily. She looks at me shyly. “I’ve always wanted to become a Psychologist, but I thought I wouldn’t be allowed.”

“Oh no, you’d definitely be allowed,” I say. “You’re so smart and you get amazing grades. Just keep working hard and I’m sure you’ll get interviewed.”

“That would be amazing!” Emily gushes. “I can hardly believe it!”

“And what makes you so sure?” Jana asks. She narrows her eyes so that they’re like little slits.
You can’t scare me
.

“My father told me so,” I lie, staring right back at her. “In fact, he told me that they might only take students from ISTJ next time they’re looking for people to interview for the Academy. You just haven’t heard about it yet because it’s kind of classified information.”

“You’re lying,” Jana hisses. “I know you’re lying!”

I shrug and take a sip of my milk. “If you want to call my father, go ahead.”

“I for one would rather slit my wrists than go to the Departmental Academy. Being one of the Association Psychologists would be like being a trained dog who rolls over for treats. No offense, Sophie.”

“Noah!” Jana whispers. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that!”

“Do whatever you want, little girl,” he says. He stands up and grabs his empty tray. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go to the can. Duty calls.”

As I watch Noah walk away, I see Aaron looking at me from another table, his eyes trying to tell me something. I turn away and start talking to an excited Emily instead.
I don’t speak your language anymore, old friend
.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

‘It is hard to be brave,’ said Piglet, sniffling slightly,‘when you’re only a Very Small Animal.’

—A. A. Milne

When my name
is called over the loudspeaker, I can’t say that I’m surprised. I’ve been acting so unlike an ISTJ, that I probably should have been called down days ago. After I hear my name, I walk out of my dorm room and head down to Dr. Witmer’s office. As soon as I knock on his door he calls me in, then goes to sit behind his large oak desk. For a few seconds I just stand in the middle of the room, until he gestures for me to sit on a chair in front of him. Once I’m settled, he speaks.

“I assume you know why you were called into my office on a Sunday morning?” Dr. Witmer asks.

“Um, not really sir,” I say.
If Aaron tattled on me, I’ll seriously murder that kid. I really will
!

“It has come to my attention that you have been going against Typology teachings. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir?”

“Did you or did you not recently tell an entire lunch table full of impressionable First Years that if they…” he pauses, to look down at a piece of paper. “
That if they study hard enough and get good enough grades, they can get picked to go to the Departmental Academy, too.
”

“I guess so,” I say.

“And did you or did you not say that your father, the respected Dr. Jenkins, had informed you that our school would be the one from which future Association Psychologists would be hand-picked?”

“Maybe.” I shrugged.

“’Maybe?’” Dr. Witmer asks. “Did I misquote you in any manner, Ms. Jenkins, or were those in fact your words?”

“Um, yes, they were my words. But I was just trying to point out that any of us can do whatever we want in life, no matter what our Type might be. That just because certain jobs might be suggested to us on a list doesn’t mean that we can’t try for other ones, too.”

“Oh, that is all, is it?” he asks. “You were merely trying to tell other students that the Occupation Recommendations they’ll be given will be merely suggestions they won’t need to follow?”

“I guess so.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of…blasphemous ideology you have been planting in such vulnerable minds, Ms. Jenkins? Any idea?” I watch as Dr. Witmer’s face gets redder and redder.

“I wasn’t trying to be a blasphemous anything, sir.”

“Then what were you
trying to do,
exactly?”

I look at my fingernails. They’re dirty, just like a little kid. I try to look up at the Dean, straight into his eyes. “I was trying to let them know that they can be the best me they want to be.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The best me, like my Primary school motto said.”

“I’m well aware of the motto, Ms. Jenkins. It is the same motto that’s used across Primary schools in this country. It is, in fact, a motto I created.”

“Oh!” I say, trying to smile. “Then you must understand…”

Dr. Witmer frowns in return. “What I understand, Ms. Jenkins, is that you seem to be becoming a rather disruptive influence at ISTJ. If it weren’t for your father, I assure you that we would be considering suspension at this time.”

I feel anger start to build in my belly, rising into my chest. Words spill out of me before I have a chance to stop them. “But what about the first Association Psychologists, sir?” I ask.

“What about them?”

“Didn’t they all have different personality Types and still manage to come together to create the whole Typology system? I remember my dad telling me all about them when I was little. How they were all young Psychologists from across North America and Europe, who all had a vision for the future. It didn’t matter what their Type was. What mattered was the type of future they wanted for the world!” I force my eyes to look wide and innocent, hoping that I’m not forgetting any of the phrases my father used to tell me over and over again.

Dr. Witmer’s face changes from red to purple. “Enough of your impertinence! Consider this your one and only warning, Ms. Jenkins! If I hear of even one minor misstep on your part, I assure you that there will be dire consequences, dire!”

“Yes sir,” I whisper, all of my confidence dribbling away.

I slink back to my dorm room and go to sit on my bed. Emily comes over and gives me a hug, saying nothing. Jana remains on her bunk, and doesn’t bother to look up from her book. “I trust your little meeting with Dr. Witmer went well?” she asks sweetly, before turning a page.

I focus all of my energy onto sending hateful thoughts her way.
Asshole. Jerk. Traitor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It wasn’t quite day and it wasn’t quite night, ‘cause the sun and the moon were both in sight…

—Shel Silverstein

At first I
don’t find the day hike to be so bad. At least we’re out of the school and into nature. The day is incredibly warm for spring, the sky clear of clouds.

“Last one to the top of the mountain is a rotten egg!” Jana shouts, running ahead of me.

I roll my eyes at Emily, who’s walking next to me. “Doesn’t she realize that this
isn’t
a race and that this is not exactly a mountain?”

Emily adjusts the straps of her knapsack and shrugs. “She’s not so bad, really,” she says.

“Not so bad? She’s done everything she can to make my life horrible since I got here. Ribbon Day this and do your homework that and get back into the lunch line right now or I’ll report you. How is she not so bad?”

Emily looks at me and shrugs again. “Well, you know, she
is
kind of jealous of you. I mean, I never had any other friends except Jana until you came to ISTJ. I think she finds it hard to share me.” Her face reddens and her dimples show.

“Still. She never even gave me a chance to be her friend,” I say. “She’s always such a bitch!”

“Sophie!” Emily gasps. “Please don’t swear in front of me.”

“Sorry.”

We walk in silence down a well-marked path, the sound of our running shoes against the ground soothing to me. The only rules of the day hike are to get back in time for supper. You can wear whatever you want, and have your choice of different snacks to pack in your knapsack. Otherwise, we’re left on our own, to go as fast or as slow as we want, to talk or to just get lost in our own thoughts.
So we don’t have wild parties at ISTJ, Hannah, so what? Maybe the Intros are onto something, after all.