Wednesday September 25, 2013
Hoosier National Forest- U.S. Highway 150
Near Prospect, Indiana
8:25 AM Local Time
“Okay, take a right up here onto Highway 56.”
“Here? Are you sure? Highway 56 goes straight ahead.”
“Yes, I’m sure, Terrence! I can read a stinking map! Highway 56 splits off here, and heads south!”
“Alright, but…”
“Just turn the stupid car, Terrence!”
“Alright, I’m turning, I’m turning. Jeez.”
Wendy folded her arms, looking crossly out the window as Terrrence slowed the Charger, taking a right onto the two-laned Highway 56, heading south. She felt slightly guilty about snapping at her husband like that. Her nerves were frayed, and so were his.
It had been a rough couple of days. And it was likely only going to get rougher.
Theresa had cried for hours after Terrence and Wendy had explained to her that she’d never be going back to College Park again, that her friends there were no longer her classmates. And now, just forty eight hours later, what belongings she was allowed were packed in the back of the car, headed south into the Southern Indiana foothills.
“Do we really have to do this?” came a whining voice from the back seat. “I said I’m sorry.”
“Yes, Theresa. We really… really… have to do this.” Wendy said through gritted teeth, with the exasperated air of someone who had answered the same question for the hundredth time. “I called every single school I could find, and there is NOTHING. This is honest to God the closest place willing to take you.”
It was true enough. Wendy had spent all of Tuesday trying to find a new school for her daughter. St. Michaels and St. Anthony’s both would be happy to take her next year, they said, but were overfull this year. The Washington and Wayne public districts had shot her down point blank. And on it went. Public, private, everything refused, either citing fullness, or budget, or a flat refusal to take anyone who had been expelled for ‘behavioral problems’. Finally, after nearly six hours of phone calls, web searches, and a ton of exasperation, she had found a place willing to take Theresa in. The Coldstone Academy.
An all-girls school located two hours south of Indianapolis.
Theresa had cried even more when Wendy had explained to her a concept of a boarding school. Furious, she had stormed upstairs the last night, screaming that she hated them and would never forgive them for this. That had driven Wendy to tears as well, and she had only gotten three hours of sleep from the time she went to bed at two to when she woke up at five to get ready leave. The morning had been no better, with Theresa refusing to leave bed until Terrence physically dragged her out and dressed her.
And now here they sat. In the middle of the most miserable car ride she had ever been a part of. Therea had spent pretty much the entire trip crying, or begging, or apologizing, or swearing she’d never love them any more. It had been as heartbreaking as it was annoying, and it took all her willpower to not force Terrence to stop the car and turn around and go back to Indianapolis.
She turned around, and forced a smile at her now pouting daughter. “Come on, Terr-Bear. Don’t look so glum. I went to a boarding school for several years too, you know. You’ll have a lot of fun, and meet new friends, and learn all kinds of great things. You won’t even miss us before too long.” She knew she was lying- she was miserable for most of her time at Blakely’s, and missed her parents, as neglectful as they were, costantly.
Neglectful. Is that what she herself was being to her daughter by sending her away like this?
No, another voice rang in her head. She’s being responsible. She loved her daughter so much that she was willing to send her away to get a good education. Besides, it was only for a year, and then she could start third grade in St. Anthony’s…
“And look where we are!” Wendy said, gesturing out the window. “You always loved coming down to the southern foothills and looking at the leaves. Now you’ll LIVE here, and you can watch as everything turns into brilliant colors by the day!”
Her sales pitches were falling flat, she could tell. Her daughter had folded her arms across her front and stared squarely at the back of Terrence’s seat. She never reacted at all, and Wendy wondered if she was tuning her out. Sighing, she turned back around.
“One mile to French Lick!” Terrence announced, his own attempt at false jovialty falling flat. “You know, Larry Bird’s from here,” he called back to Theresa. “Just think, you could be walking the halls and playing on the same playground he used to play!”
“I don’t think Larry Bird went to an all girl’s academy,” Wendy said quietly.
“Oh, right…” Terrence bit his lip, then tried again. “But, you know… Coldstone… like Coldstone Creamery! Maybe that’s who sponsors them, and you can get all the ice cream you can ea-” his voice faded as his wife shot a sidelong glare at him. Turning slightly red, he focused on staring straight ahead at the road and driving.
Wendy glanced back out the window and sighed again. Tomorrow, she’d be leaving for Las Vegas and Sin & Sacrifice and the biggest match of her life. She should be training for that now, should have been training for the past few days, but… circumstances.
She suddenly felt sick, and not for the first time. How could she be thinking about wrestling when she was about to drop her daughter off at some strange school? Theresa had fought because she had emulated her mom, and now she was being dumped off in the middle of nowhere.
No, she did not emulate you, the other voice countered. She lost her temper, and got expelled on a stupid beauacratic rule that shouldn’t exist. You got handed lemons, and you’re doing your best to make lemonade, even if you can’t find any sugar to sweeten it.
“Turn right up here,” she said again, pointing to a small road off the highway. This time Terrence didn’t argue. Just turned and headed up the winding road that took them into the hills to the rest of French Lick. The leaves were just starting to turn, splotches of yellow mixed in with the deep late-summer green. That was one thing she wasn’t lying about: in just a few months, the region would explode with color, and Theresa would have a front row seat.
“Coldstone Academy,” Terrence announced as he pulled into a small lot at the end of the road. As it was a weekday, only the teachers parking spots were occupied, along with a large, gray bus with “COLDSTONE ACADEMY” printed on the side. Wendy smiled slightly. At least her daughter would get to go on field trips.
Then she looked at the building in front of her and that smile faded.
Her minds eye flashed back to Blakeley’s academy, with its perfectly manicured lawns, the Victorian style buildings, nestled nicely into the Catskill mountains of upstate New York. Despite her misery there, she had always found her old school a very beautiful place.
Coldstone, on the other hand…
There was no other way to put it. Coldstone Girls Academy looked like a haunted house dropped into the middle of a maximum security prison. The main building was massive and well maintained, but hardly welcoming in appearance, with dark ivy crawling up the walls. Behind and to the side, she could se smaller satellite buildings, although whether outer classrooms or dormitories, she couldn’t tell. Somehow, despite it still being late September, nearly every tree inside the compound had lost its leaves, which lay in neatly raked piles on the browning grass. To top it off, the entire compound was surrounded by a black cast iron fence, the tops coiled with…
“Barbed wire?” Terrence said, glancing at Wendy.
“Probably to keep intruders or animals out,” Wendy reasoned, although she found the sight nervewracking as well.
“Or the girls in,” Terrence said darkly, showing reservations about this- and not for the first time. Behind them, Theresa whimpered.
“Well, that’d be good too.” Wendy replied, trying to keep her voice light. “We don’t want our daughter wandering around Hoosier National Forest, after all.” Then, forcing herself to proceed, she unbuckled her belt, and climbed out of the car, tilting her seat forward so Theresa could climb out. She half-expected another scene, where they’d have to drag her daughter kicking and screaming from the car. But Theresa climbed out voluntarily, although she looked at her mom with pleading eyes.
“Please don’t make me stay here,” she begged.
“Come on, Theresa, it’s not that bad.” Wendy lied. “I mean, it looks a little old, but look at that yard you get to play in!”
“Then why isn’t anyone playing in it?” Theresa countered.
“Probably because they’re all in class,” Wendy responded. “Now come on. And don’t slouch.”
Together, the three of them walked towards the gate in the fence that led to the school. Terrence paused, looking up at the archway and the black lettering written across it.
“Nulla Tolerantia Defectus” he said, looking over at his wife. “What’s that mean?”
Wendy shook her head. “I was never that good with Latin.” She knew a few phrases, including the motto of Blakely’s (Ubi Ars Vitae Est- Where there is art, there is life). But the overall grasp on the langauge eluded her. “We can ask when we get inside.”
She expected the gate to creak as she opened it, but it was quite well-oiled, and made no sound except a loud clang as Terrence shut it. Inside the compound, the school looked even more menacing, the shadow darkening the yard, despite the sunny day. She heard Theresa whimper again, and took her hand, leading her inside the door.
The interior of the school was clean, but somewhat dimmed in light, as only a small chandelier hung over the entrance and marble staircase. Looking up, Wendy saw the stairs wind upwards for four floors. There wasn’t a soul in sight.
“Hello?” Terrence called, his voice echoing around the hall. He cringed as Wendy wheeled towards him, a furious glare in her emerald eyes. “What I do?”
Before Wendy could snap out a response, a door opened, and a woman, maybe ten years older than Wendy was, stepped out, looking cross. That quickly faded into a smile when she saw the guests in the hallway, and she strode forward. “Welcome! Welcome. You must be the Thompsons, I presume? I’m Julia Frouch, the headmistress of Coldstone Academy.”
The woman was beautiful in a classic sense, with high cheekbones, a soft face, and a gentle bob of blonde hair falling behind her. Behind her walked another woman, smaller, shorter, and more frail. This one wasn’t as pretty, but had a sullen, drab look about her.
“Uh, yeah,” Terrence was saying, shaking the beautiful woman’s hand, and Wendy found herself doing the same. “Um, this is Theresa… your new student.” He pointed unnecessarily down at the terrified girl.
“Welcome, welcome.” Ms. Frouch said in a flourished voice, bending over and shaking her hand. “Such pretty eyes. Just like your mother’s, I see.”
“Thank you…” Theresa said softly, blushing shyly at the compliment.
“We… uh.. have her stuff still in the car,” Terrence said. “Wasn’t sure where we’re supposed to unload it”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Ms. Frouch said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Students aren’t allowed to bring personal effects. Everything they need is provided for them here at Coldstone!”
Panic crept into Theresa’s face. “But… but my dolls…” she began.
Ms. Frouch bent in front of her, smiling. Wendy was under the impression she was trying to be friendly, but the impression was ultimately more condescending. “You’re here to learn, Theresa. Dolls and toys will only distract you from that, and lead to failure. And we here at Coldstone do NOT tolerate failure.”
Theresa’s face paled, and she looked over at her parents, panicked. Ms. Frouch looked up as well, that smile still on her face. “I’m sure you’ll agree that minimizing distractions is the best way. We don’t allow jewelery or cosmetics, and their wardrobe will consist entirely of our uniforms. This way, petty things such as vanity and jealousy don’t get in the way of a good education. In fact,” she clapped her hands twice, “Gertrude, why don’t you take Theresa up for sizing now? If we hurry, we can have her ready to start in the afternoon classes.”
Before either Terrence or Wendy could react, Gertrude had whisked their daughter away, and they could only exchange dumbfounded glances. Ms. Frouch smiled that same smile again. “Don’t worry, you’ll still get to say your goodbyes before you go. But while Theresa’s being fitted, I’m sure you would love a tour of our fine school.”
Terrence won the race to regain his voice first. “Uh.. yeah, sure.” he said. Wendy nodded, and they set off down the hall, listening to Ms. Frouch as she extolled the virtues of Coldstone Academy.
“Our average salary for teachers is ranked among the top 1% of all private schools in the United States,” she explained. “We pay top dollar to receive the services of some of the finest teachers available. 80% of our staff has at least a Master’s degree, and a full half of our staff are professors with doctorates.”
For the first time since entering the school, Wendy found herself impressed. The finest education was what she was hoping for, after all. She began to feel at ease as she glanced through the windows of classrooms, watching students intently listening to lecturing teachers.
“While at Coldstone, your daughter will receive the finest instruction in English, History, Geography, Biology, Astronomy, and Chemstry,” Ms. Frouch continued as she walked- no… strutted- down her hallway. “We strive to create an enviroment cultured to learning with minimal distractions. Of course, she’ll be required to perform chores to assist with the upkeep of our school, but she’ll also receive three full meals per day, plus a small, healthy snack in the afternoon and evenings, should she meet certain requirements.”
“What kind of requirements?” Wendy asked, curious.
“Showing academic excellence,” Ms. Frouch responded. “Perfect scores on tests, excellently written reports, etcetera. We believe that superiority is best rewarded, to inspire it’s duplication.”
“Like giving a dog a biscuit,” Terrence muttered under his breath, grunting silently when WEndy, without missing a step, managed to land a kick to his shin.
“What about your arts programs?” Wendy asked. “You know, visual arts, drama, choir…” her voice trailed off as Ms. Frouch pursed her lips, shaking her head. “No?”
That damned smile returned. “We believe here that such things as singing and acting are… unproductive. Things such as music and drawing only stirs the imagination, which leads to daydreaming and sidetracking. For that same reason we are very careful about which literary books we introduce, lest they entice our student’s minds to wander.”
Wendy was incredulous. “You curtail the imagination? Isn’t imagination what fuels inventions and discoveries and the overall betterment of our life?”
“Of course, of course,” Ms. Frouch replied. “But the imagination is like a tree. For it to reach its full potential when grown, you must prune it as much as you can when it’s young, do you not? By trimming it now, we allow the imagination to expand properly. Productively.”
Wendy blinked. She’d never thought of it that way before.
“Ah, and here we have our physical education room. After all, being fit is part of being successful, right?”
Wendy was surprised to walk through the door into a full sized gymnasium. The school certainly didn’t look capable of holding such a room on the outside. She looked around, and saw a PE class of perhaps twelve year olds- half wearing red bibs, half wearing blue- playing basketball. The game was as serious as any game she had ever seen in the NCAA tournament, the girls playing with intensity she’d never imagine for a simple P.E. class. She watched as a girl in red heaved up a three point shot, that fell just short, and clanged off the rim. As it did, a whistle blew, and the girls wearing red groaned.
“Time!” the PE instructor yelled. “Blue team wins, 41-39! Go get cleaned up for your next class. Red team, I expect you back here at six o’clock for your punishment!” The girls walked off, the blue team cheers filled more with relief, while the red team was busy squabbling amongst themselves, the girl who had missed the shot receving the brunt of her team’s wrath.
“Punishment?” she heard Terrence ask Ms. Frouch behind her.
“Nulla Tolerantia Defectus” the woman said proudly, echoing the words that had been above the iron gate. “Zero tolerance for failure. Those are the losers. They have failed, they must be punished. Tonight, during dinner, they will be assigned to clean a section of the school until it’s sparkling. Their drudgery will remind them to work harder to succeed next time. By this way, we instill a desire for success.” She reached forward to usher them back out of the gymnasium.
“You force children to miss dinner for losing a game of basketball?” now it was Terrence’s turn to be incredulous.
“Of course not. Once they are finished cleaning, they are more than welcome to eat.” Ms. Frouch replied. “Of course, by then, the food will be cold, but that will serve as a reminder to them about the consequences of failing. Ah, look! Gertrude returns with your daughter!”
Wendy tried to not think about how dull her daughter looked. Theresa was wearing a drab gray blouse buttoned high, and a equally drab skirt, with black stockings and a pair of black shoes. Her heart stopped beating as she realized that her daughter was refusing to meet her eyes, instead looking intently at the polished floor. Next to her, she saw Terrence, trying hard to keep an expression of distaste off his face.
“Yes, that is quite acceptable.” Ms. Frouch announced. “Now, if you follow me to my office, we can do the paperwork to complete her enrollment, and then she can get started learning immediately.”
Terrence looked at Wendy, his jaw set. For a second, she thought she saw him shaking his head, but she wasn’t sure. Ms. Frouch was staring at her, waiting for her to respond. For a second, Wendy was tempted to pick up her daughter, cradle her in her arms, and flee. She knew Theresa was going to be miserable here. Anyone with a soul would be miserable here.
But what other choice did she have? She had spent all of yesterday looking for a school, and this was her only option. It was here, or nothing, right? And it was only for eight months, then summer break would hit.
How much harm could that possibly do?
“Right,” Wendy sighed. “Let’s go.”
But as the rest trudged behind Ms. Frouch, Wendy lagged behind, tears clouding her eyes as she watched her daughter sulk behind her husband in that ugly gray dress. She thought about her own misery at beautiful Blakely, and how she had vowed never to raise her daughter the way her parents had raised her.
She had succeeded on that front, at least. She wasn’t anything like her parents.
She was worse.
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