"That's what that screen was for when we ordered dinner?" I ask. When I scanned my phone to order dinner earlier, a screen on the tablet displayed allergies, food restrictions and my macronutrient intake for the day. I didn't think much of it at the time, other than it was weird.
"There's more eating disorders here than anything. You have to remember, we come from a world where image is everything. And that's hard to let go of, no matter how far we are from the spotlight."
Ashton hands me the vape. The edges of the room begin to soften around me as my body eases into the mattress.
"Do you believe in it? What they're doing here?"
I'm still very skeptical. And maybe it's because Dr. Kendall is a living illusion. How can I be convinced that what I see is real when there's a maze within the courtyard that's sole intent is to get us lost?
Ashton hesitates again, tucking her vape back in her pocket. "I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter because I'm stuck here whether I believe or not. But don't trust anyone. That's the best advice I could probably give you. Nothing is what it seems."
"It's kind of my life motto already."
Ashton winks. "Which is another reason it's going to be good to have you here. And don't worry, it only feels like a prison. It's really not. There's always ways to break the rules, if you're willing."
"I have nothing to lose!"
Ashton laughs.
"Meet you downstairs for breakfast? I'm training you at work tomorrow."
"Sounds good." I watch her leave. Just as she closes the door behind her, I realize I didn't ask her where we worked. Guess I'll find out when we get there.
I collapse against the pile of throw pillows and stare at the ceiling, allowing the mellowness to seep into me. It's so quiet. I don't know if I'll ever get used to it. I lift my head, searching for something that plays music. I spot a small, decorative box sitting on the corner of the desk.
I push off the bed to check it out. Inside is an iPod. I didn't even know they made these anymore. It also contains earbuds, a charger, and a portable speaker. I power it on and scroll through the music. It isn't bad. I know a lot of the artists, but a few are new. Someone knows me--a little too well. It might freak me out if I weren't high right now.
I insert the earbuds and select a song. I nod to the beat, strolling around the room. It's twice the size of my room back home. But I already feel locked in. Since no one's monitoring the hallways this weekend, they won't know if I wander around. In truth, I'm craving ice cream and want to find the freezer.
I leave the iPod on the desk and stick a sock in my door so it doesn't close all the way. I hesitate in the dimly lit hallway for a moment, listening. It's eerily quiet. Which makes me feel like I need to be quiet too, even though I know no one is here, other than Sophia and Ashton. I tiptoe down the hall to the enormous staircase. My bare feet don't make a sound on the carpeted surface. It seems like it takes forever to reach the bottom. Why don't they have a stupid elevator?
I slip through the French doors that lead into the dining room. The moon is shining through the enormous row of windows that look onto the back lawn. The dim light helps me navigate around the tables until I reach the swinging door that leads to the kitchen.
This kitchen is nothing like Stella's. Every stainless steel surface is gleaming in the soft over-counter lighting. I swear, even the cool tiled floor looks like it's glowing. Or maybe it's the drugs.
I open cooler door after door until I finally find what I'm looking for. With a huge grin, I select a tub of chocolate ice cream with caramel swirl. It's so huge, I have to wrap my entire arm around it just to carry it. I'm going to eat the entire thing, or try. I slide a stirring spoon of a hook above one of the counters and walk back through the dining room.
I'll eat it in the library or great room or whatever the hell the room is called across the foyer. The room that looks like an old guy in a smoking jacket should be seated on one of the wingback chairs, sucking on a pipe, and telling stories for PBS in front of its huge stone fireplace. My room is too far away right now.
Mid-way across the foyer, I hear a creak. And because this place quieter than a tomb, the sound reverberates throughout the entire foyer. I hold my breath, because my altered brain is convinced that'll help me hear better. I slowly turn toward the noise. The door leading to the Court is cracked open. Jostling in the breeze, it releases another squeak. I exhale.
Ignoring the churning in my stomach warning me not to, I creep to the door and peek outside. I don't see anyone. I push the door open farther and step outside. A chill travels up my spine when my feet sink into the thick, cool grass. The warm June air breathes against my face, carrying the perfumed scent of roses. I close my eyes to let it seep in, inhaling deep.
The trellis leading into the Court reminds me of a dark cave. There aren't any lights, but I notice a soft glow emanating from the cobblestone path. I've never seen anything like it. Then again, I've never been to a place like this before either. Or any place outside of Sherling (not counting juvie) come to think of it.
Adjusting the slippery tub in my arm, I venture toward the black abyss leading into the Court.
"Not a good idea."
I spin around, searching for the male voice that just spoke. It takes a moment for my eyes to distinguish his silhouette, lying on the hammock in the corner near the hedges.
"Um ... what are you doing out here?" I inch closer until I'm at the umbrella table nearest him. It's too dark to make out his features, but it looks like he's wearing dress pants and a button-down shirt. Shit. I've been caught by one of the teachers.
"Waiting." That one word is laden with so much arrogance. Definitely not a teacher.
"For who?" I jab back with just as much attitude.
"You, Lana."