The Program Chapter 2: Routine (Written by Marysa Writes)

Alex The next week was spent growing accustomed to the school’s routine, not an easy task coming from an entirely different time zone. Oli, who appears to be having almost as much difficulty as I, must not be from around here either. I decide to ask her before she gets ready for out first class. “I’m from Florida, actually,” she replies, grabbing a pair of black sweats and a black tee from her dresser by the window. “The one that hangs off of america and looks like an upside down boot, apparently.” I nod, as if I have any idea where that might actually be, and assess our room. It’s a sparsely furnished 12-by-12, two beds, two dressers, two shelves-one above each bed. On the far wall, where Oli’s bed and dresser reside, is a tall window that overlooks the mountains. It’d be a beautiful view if the window wasn’t guarded with steel bars like a prison. As you enter the room, to your left is the bathroom. In it, a shower, toilet and sink with toiletries underneath. All so close to one another, you could shower and brush your teeth without ever getting off the toilet. Oli emerges from the bathroom as I’m walking out the door, and we make our way to our first class. There are six classes total every day, each lasting about an hour. The first four are those you’d see in any normal high school; english, math, history, science. Then, we’re lucky enough to get an elective of the day. EOTD is followed by our final class- how to, where we, quite literally, learn how to do things. Besides me and Oli, there are eighteen other students in the school, all present when we walk into class. Professor Jayson, the english teacher, begins passing out work booklets the second my butt hits the chair. “These are comprehension tests. You will take one in each of your first four classes, so that we can get an understanding of where we can begin our lessons. The first page of the exam consists of a personality assessment. On the final page of this exam, you will find a contract that you must sign. It is ensuring that you will not speak of your experiences in this program with anyone, or legal action will be authorized.” “What are the repercussions if we break the contract?” Emily, a strawberry blonde with striking emerald eyes and a galaxy of freckles across her cheeks, asked. Professor Jayson stared straight ahead, not addressing her directly, but everyone at once, “That depends on what information you disclose and to whom.” Before she had a chance to respond, Chris, a scrawny Asian kid with horrible acne and wireless frames butted in, “What if we refuse to sign?” Without missing a beat, Professor Jayson responded, “Then we will ensure that a parent will sign on your behalf. No talking for the next forty-five minutes, exam begins now.” ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………. Oli As soon as my eyes hit the first question, my heart drops into my stomach. My palms begin to sweat as I look up to find Professor Jayson staring at me, reading the thoughts running through my brain. It is highly improbable this was an accident. I read over the question again, willing my lungs to take in air. “Have you ever caused another harm? If so, how? Was it intentional?” --- I hesitantly walk into the funeral home, fresh bandages still protruding from my shirts’ sleeves. I’m almost positive Tyler’s parents wish I was anywhere but here, but I owe him an apology at the very least. As I’m walking to the closed casket, I glance around the room, at all the faces, reading what they don’t dare say, “It should have been you instead.” --- I’m suddenly thankful for my decision to wear black as sweat protrudes from just about every pore in my body. Ignoring the rule against missing class, I jump up from my chair and make a beeline for the door, spending the rest of the afternoon locked in the dorm room’s bathroom. Alex finds me on my bed holding an old photograph of Tyler and I before the accident when class ends. “Principle Hayes is looking for you. He’ll be coming soon, and from the reaction of the other kids, you better prepare yourself for whatever he plans to do.” As if on cue, Principle Hayes materializes in the doorway, flashing a smile too white to be natural. I try to shove the photo under the pillow before he can ask about it, but my hands aren’t quick enough. “Bring the photo.” As we make our way beyond his office, I take note of his demeanor- army like, straight back, chin up, threatening. He guides me into a 10 by 10 metal room behind his office, one I didn’t notice when I first arrived at this school. He tells me to sit in the steel chair in the center of the room before locking the door behind himself. “Do you know why I brought you here?” I clutch the photo to my chest, “Because I walked out of class and dodged the exam.” He sneers, “You have three rules, and you couldn’t even manage to follow them for longer than a week. Tell me, why did you feel the need to rebel?” I almost laugh, “Rebel? I wasn’t-” The smack of palm hitting cheek bounces off the walls and I drop my photo. He picks it up, looking between me and the photo, “What’s this?” I remain silent out of sheer stubbornness. “Answer me when I ask you a question.” “...” “Alright, you incessant brat,” he leans close, spit flecks hitting my cheek. With one quick motion, he rips the photo in half. I slam my forehead into his own, gritting my teeth through the pain. His guard falters for only a brief moment before grabbing a fist full of my hair and tipping my head back so I have no choice but to look up into his lifeless, seaweed green eyes. “Just for that, no food for two days. If I see you even touch a crumb, I promise it’ll be the last time you ever use that hand. Now,” He throws my head back and the chair rocks back on two legs, “Tell me why you decided to break my rules.” His tone softens as he regains his composure. “I don’t know.” “Liar!” His hand strikes my face again. I spit at his shoes before responding, “You put that first question on purpose.” “Suppose I did. Care to answer it?” --- Tyler and I are laying under the sprinkles of a quiet night, neither of us wanting to break the cricket’s symphonies. I decide to be the first to interrupt, “What if I died tomorrow?” He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me in close, “Then I’d beat Death into bringing you back.” “Metaphorical death, or the Reaper himself?” “Whatever it takes.” --- “Well?” My glare could be felt across a crowded room, “I hurt someone I loved.” “How?” Through clenched teeth I manage, “I killed him.” “Intentionally?” Irritation grows like a wildfire, “no.” He smiles, “Was that so hard? I flash him an exaggerated smile, “Nope. And don’t worry, I know where I stand.” “Well, then. Good. You are dismissed.” He opens the door and I look at him skeptically, but slide my way past him, sprinting back to my dorm. Alex is sitting on his bed when I burst through the door, opening the dam and allowing the tears to flow freely. Through strangled breaths, I manage, “There is something seriously wrong with this school.”