CHAPTER EIGHT

As I stand in a massive office with polished, wooden furniture, I wonder what kind of person the director is. The counselor who brought me here has a stiff look on his face. I ignore him, choosing to study the elegant room before me. It’s done up in shades of brown, gold, and white, has a huge fireplace with the fire casting a shadow across the plush carpet, and has low lighting that gives the entire office a mysterious vibe.

I have never stepped foot in such a luxurious room.

“You’d better not say anything unnecessary,” the counselor spits out, his voice low.

“Such as?” I stare at him.

His eyes narrow, the hatred in them visible.

I don’t know what I did to deserve such anger, but I also don’t particularly care.

I just smile at him. I don’t know what the director wants from me or what the counselor doesn’t want me asking, but I do have a few questions of my own, starting with why we are being treated like worthless cockroaches.

I don’t know which island we are on now but if I’m right, then this might be the fourth island. When we were ferried to the island meant for the Level Zeroes, the ferries departed in opposite directions. I don’t know why I care though. Island Zero or Island Five, I still need to find a way to get away from this place. Strange things have been happening to me ever since I started this journey to this place. And there’s no reason to go through all this torture. I can make a life for myself once I run away, judge and juvie be damned.

Juvie would have been a better choice.

When the door opens, a woman walks inside.

My previous bravado pales at the sight of her. The only word that comes to my mind when looking at her is magnificent. She’s tall with a trim figure, pale skin, and perfectly coiffed, silver hair. I didn’t even know hair could be that color because she looks to be in her forties. It’s the early hours of the morning, and she’s wearing a stylish skirt suit. She walks over to stand behind her desk.

Everything about this woman screams dignity, authority, and perfection. And more importantly, power.

I stare at her, not knowing what to say. I’ve never felt intimidated by someone’s presence like I do hers.

“That’ll be all, Ferguson. You may leave.”

The counselor started and immediately said, shooting me a nasty look, “You should know, Ma’am, this one has the filthy habit of lying. Right from the mom—”

“I said that will be all, Ferguson,” her voice is hard, and Ferguson flinches.

“Bye, Ferguson,” I whisper, tauntingly, under my breath, wiggling my fingers from where my hands are at my side.

“Miss Night.” The director’s voice is cool but unamused.

I wince, muttering, “Sorry.”

She studies me until the door closes behind Ferguson, before smiling, “Tea, dear?”

I stare at her, “Um?”

“Or would you like some hot chocolate? I think hot chocolate would be better.”

She walks over to a coffee machine and takes out two beautiful teacups that don’t deserve to be touched by human hands, seeing how delicate they look.

I stand there frozen, not knowing how to react.

“Oh, do sit down, dear,” The director says, lightly.

I shuffle toward one of the two chairs from across her desk and sit down. My eyes land on a golden name plate with the director’s name on it.

Morrighan Yearwood.

I blink.

The name is oddly familiar, but I just can’t place it.

Just as I’m in the midst of trying to figure out where I heard the name before, I hear the clink of the china as Director Yearwood walks over to me, offering me the teacup. I accept it nervously. I don’t know why I’m feeling so high strung right now. But there is this foreboding pressure in the room that’s making me jittery.

She crosses the desk and sits down in her chair, before sipping her tea. “I would appreciate if you don’t draw on our trees with chalk, Taylor. They don’t like it.”

They? Who’s they?

I freeze. “I—what?”

“The chalk, dear,” she reminds me, patiently. “You numbered the trees. Please refrain from doing that again. There are better ways of running away than destroying our wildlife.”

My lips press together before I mumble, “Sorry.”

She smiles at me, kindly. “That’s quite all right, dear.”

She sips her tea again, thoughtfully, “I do understand your desire to leave this school—”

“I thought it was a camp,” I mutter.

She lets out a sudden laugh at that, murmuring, “Yes. Yes, you’d think so. But no. It is only advertised as a camp. We are a school, my dear. A school for the gifted.”

I’m trying to wrap my head around her words, before saying slowly, “The gifted? I thought this was for delinquents and—”

She just smiles, a vague gesture. “Yes. We do advertise it as such, but I hardly think you are a delinquent, my dear girl. Troubled, perhaps, but then it is understandable, no?”

I stare at her, not knowing what to say. Her voice is so reasonable and calm that I can’t help but be swayed a little. Maybe I was the one who was exaggerating?

Then I recall the events at the island I just left.

“The island I was sent to, for the Zeroes—do you treat all your students that way?”

My voice is a little abrupt now, and Director Yearwood raises her brows. “You are going to have to elaborate a little.”

I can feel my anger rising, “Dirty barracks, filthy, uncleaned toilets, we weren’t even allowed dinner. Then we were attacked by some students from another island, and when we fought back, the counselor—Ferguson—told them to run away before they got in trouble! You—”

“Is that what happened?” Director Yearwood asks, quietly.

“Yes and—”

But she cuts me off, “Why did you not retreat to the mess hall on Lorne Island. The ferry should have been waiting for you.”

“Nobody said anything. Ferguson told us we don’t get dinner.”

Director Yearwood’s smile tightens. “I see. I feel you have been misguided about your status as Zeroes. You’ll have to forgive the counselors. I will reassign your group to another counselor, one more understanding.”

“Oh, um,” I had been expecting more of a fight, harsh words, or something of that nature.

“As for being assigned to the Level Zero, it simply means that you require the most nurturing of them all. Level Zero is not for delinquents or misfits. It is for those who are still struggling and need guidance.”

That is not what I was told.

“Those who are Level Zero offer unpredictability. However, that just means you will be working harder than the rest. This school is equipped for students like you. It’s a safety net for you and will give you the space to discover yourself and your strengths and go on to achieve great things in life. This place is not a punishment as you might have been led to believe by those who sent you here. It is a place of learning and growth for you. You are safe here.”

Her words are warm, and they wrap around me like a blanket of comfort.

I had been tense since the moment I reached this place, unwilling to admit to my fear of the unknown. But the way Director Yearwood portrays this place doesn’t seem all that bad.

“That is not to say you won’t face challenges here, Taylor,” she murmurs, watching me over her cup of tea. “You will come across all kinds of individuals in this place, some friends, some enemies. It is how you navigate these choppy waters that will define you as an individual. I was particularly impressed by the events of tonight.”

I thought she didn’t know what happened.

“The way you took charge and protected your peers was an admirable act. You showed strength of spirit, and I like that about you. You remind me of—” She cuts herself short, and I see a spasm of grief cross her face. But when I blink, she’s back to her composed self, and I wonder if I imagined it all.

“Your hot chocolate is getting cold, dear,” the director suddenly says, and I lift the cup to my lips.

My eyes shutter when I taste the decadent flavor of the smooth liquid hitting my tongue.

I’ve never had hot chocolate that tastes like this.

Director Yearwood smiles at me. “Nobody ever comes to Mistfall Wilderness Camp as a mistake. We don’t believe in coincidences here and neither have we ever failed a student. Which is why, Taylor, I would like for you to stop attempting to escape.”

I go still. “I didn’t—”

“But you intend to,” her eyes are twinkling at me, as if she’s greatly amused by something. “I read your report. You have not had an easy life, which is probably why you’re wary of trusting this school. But if you give it a chance, you might find that where nobody has ever seen your potential, we will. You are special, Taylor, which is why you are here and not in some juvie. You were always meant for this place so that we can help you grow and become who you are destined to be.”

The way she speaks, the confidence and kindness in her words, makes me feel weak. I’ve never had anybody speak to me like that, as if I’m worth something, not after Dad.

“I—” Hesitation makes me close my mouth.

“There are probably things happening around you that you can’t quite understand.”

My hand tightens in a fist, recalling my strange strength and my over-the-top healing, “I don’t know what you me—”

“We can help you understand,” Director Yearwood cuts me off. “But for that, you have to give yourself time and you have to trust us.”

She’s being quite vague and it’s obvious, but her tone is sincere. I find it hard to muster up my usual distrust around her.

“How about we make a deal for now,” the director sips her tea, watching me. “I will fix the oversight that I made and assign a new counselor to your island. In return, you make no attempt to run away. Give this place a week. You might change your mind.”

“Why do you care so much about one student running away?” I finally ask, slowly, feeling that there is something odd about this situation.

“You’re a special student, Taylor,” Director Yearwood smiles at me. “And we can offer you much more here than you could imagine. Is it that hard to put your trust in me?”

My hand trembles, and I hide it in my lap.

Something about the way she’s talking to me makes me want to trust her, but I’ve never had a good history with people I have trusted.

“One week,” I finally say, reluctantly.

One week to see if she actually means what she says.

Director Yearwood’s smile is slow, and for a moment, I think I see a strange emotion behind her eyes. But like before, it’s gone when I blink.

She glances outside. “I’ll have somebody escort you back. Your new counselor will greet you in the morning.”

I drain my cup of hot chocolate and hurry out, still reeling over the fact that I wasn’t punished. I had walked in here fully expecting to be thoroughly disciplined.

My eyes are downcast as I walk out in quick steps, feeling unnerved.

So lost in my thoughts, I don’t see the person in front of me until I bump into them.

“Oof!” comes the voice before a pair of firm hands steady me, “You okay?”

I look up and come face to face with a tall guy with jet black hair in loose curls, ivory skin, and grey, piercing eyes. He blinks when I don’t answer.

“Do you need to sit down?”

“Ah, N … No,” I mumble. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he grins at me. “Were you on guard duty or something?”

“Guard duty?”

“You know,” he shrugs, “for the tunnels.”

I shake my head. “I’m new here.”

“Oh!” He laughs lightly. “Then what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in your room?”

“I—” I look over my shoulder and see a man approaching.

“I’ll take it from here, Jesse,” the man says. “The director wants to see you.”

Jesse winks at me. “See you around.”

“Y … Yeah,” I say, breathlessly, just a watching him walk away. “See you.”

The man reaches me, “I’m Sam. I’ll take you back to your barracks.” He seems to be friendly.

“Thanks,” I mutter.

As he takes me back to the ferry, he indulges me in light conversation and as resistant as I am, I have no choice but to partake. He seems nicer than any of the previous people I’ve met, but right now, my trust level with this place is at an all-time zero.

My thoughts go back to my conversation with Director Yearwood. From the things she said, it sounded like she wanted the best for me. I don’t know whether I believe what she says, but a part of me, the small untainted part of me, fills with a sliver of hope.

Everybody wants to belong somewhere.

But I’ve never fit in anywhere.

Maybe this might be it for me.

I’m lost in my thoughts as we disembark the ferry, and Sam leaves me to it, guiding me back to the barracks in the dead of the night.

The director seemed to know that I had plans of escaping, but she didn’t know how we were just treated? There is still something about this place that I can’t quite put my finger on. But for now, I made a deal with her. Let’s see if she can follow through.

Something in me is still urging me to run but by the time I reach the barracks, my mind is made up.

I’ll give the director one week and that’s it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t devise an escape plan in the meantime.