I nodded.
“I’m sorry for your trouble. We’ll do the best we can to handle it, and don’t forget to let me know what the police think. I’ll have our security alerted,” Dean Becker told him.
My father nodded at my mother, and I followed them out. The homeroom bell had rung.
“I’ll take today off,” my mother told me outside the office. “I’ll be here when school ends.”
“You don’t have to do that, Mom. I’ll—”
“You just listen now, Corliss,” my father said. “No more brilliant ideas.”
I nodded and walked off to my homeroom.
Sometimes news gets converted to electric energy and passes so quickly through the student body that anyone would think it was written on the walls in the hallways and classrooms. Before the bell rang to send us to our first-period class, the school’s security guard, Mr. Baylor, was at my homeroom door. I saw the looks of satisfaction on the faces of some of Lily’s and Marsha’s friends as he observed them and then trailed behind me down the hallway.
What had I accomplished? Even Jackson looked too terrified to approach me. He glanced at me and hurried along with his friends. One could sense the tension in the building all day. It was as if a wave of oppressive heat had slipped in through the doors and windows. Voices were subdued; everyone moved cautiously, like people afraid of some potential bomb. Something more nasty directed toward me was anticipated. Whatever it was, it was on hold because of all the awareness. I could hear the tension in my teachers’ voices. Maybe it was my imagination, but most avoided asking me questions or even looking my way, perhaps thinking they were somehow endangering me. Let me be invisible.
I felt terrible when I saw my mother waiting for me at the end of the day. The peals of laughter behind us were more like darts and arrows sent in our direction. She asked me how things had gone during the day.
“I don’t remember,” I said. “It was like walking through a thick fog.”
The police began something of an investigation, but with all the serious crimes on their docket, we didn’t expect any results. About an hour after one of the quietest dinners we’d had in our house, the phone rang. It was Mr. VanVleet, our high school guidance counselor. He had an unusual request. He wanted to come to our house to speak with my parents and me.
“Oh, this place is a mess!” my mother moaned when my father agreed.
“I don’t think that will matter right now,” my father said. “He said he had a solution for us and something wonderful for Corliss.”
My parents sent Andrea and Randall to their rooms just before Mr. VanVleet arrived. The four of us went to the living room, where he began by handing us a brochure for a place called Spindrift. It was clearly a private school.
“Why are you showing us this?” my father asked. “It looks like an expensive place.”
“It would be, but Corliss would go there on a full scholarship.”
My father pulled himself back.
“This is a college?”
“No. It’s a special private school designed to serve students like Corliss. A little while back, I submitted her information, and I followed up with a phone call yesterday. They want her to attend. It’s like a college. There are dorms, but it’s quite different from an ordinary school.”
My father looked at the brochure again.
“Looks fenced in.”
“Oh, security is important. It has the most sophisticated technological security.”
My father nodded. “Impressive,” he said.
“This is actually a very special school, specifically designed for
students like you, Corliss,” Mr. VanVleet said. “They take in only fifteen students a year. The principal is a renowned child psychologist, Dr. Jessie Marlowe.”
“You mean, it’s like a mental institution?” I said dryly.
“Oh, no. It has the most advanced learning facilities. It’s in Piñon Pine Grove in the Coachella Valley, not more than two hours from Los Angeles. She won’t be that far from home,” he said, directing this at my mother.
“Maybe that’s not far enough,” I said.
“Look. I’m not trying to get rid of you, Corliss, but you and I both know that you’re not being challenged here. You will be challenged there.”