Chapter 4 – in his own image.

It was Nanny Bella who taught me to pray. She’d rub her thumb and index finger over rosary beads while I watched. I don’t own a rosary. In fact, I don’t own a belief system. That didn’t stop me from asking Nanny Bella’s baby Jesus to help me as I bury my face in my coat.

The smell of wool and perfume causes my stomach to stir. I pull it from my face and lean back against the Plexiglas behind me and close my eyes.

“Looks like the princess ate a poisoned apple.”

I flipped Fisher my middle finger again while wishing he was right. Seriously, wouldn’t it be great if this all turned out to be a nightmare? A really long one, starting from almost a year ago when I left San Diego. I close my eyes tighter and beg Mother Mary Full of Grace to take me back to my previous life. I will do better. I promise.

Problem is, I know no one’s listening. I won’t wake up from a cliché dream. Nobody is going to help me. No halo-toting, celestial being will swoop down. Not now. Not ever.

I have to do this myself.

I’ll show them.

All of them will see.

“See what?” Dee Dee looks over at me.

Great! This isn’t the time to have my body betray me. “Nothing,” I growl at her. This is no place for a weakness. I better get my slips under control. I’m even more sure of that when the Snowcat grinds to a stop in front of a massive log-cabin. We’ve arrived. Tall pine trees stand guard around the remote lodge. Packed paths carve their way around the building. It’s late afternoon and at least six workers dressed in identical blue-green snow pants and parkas shovel snow from rocky paths.

Jackson uncuffs us from our seats and takes us one by one into the building. When it’s my turn to exit the orange tank, my breath puffs into the air. No cars. No buses. No loud shouts across busy streets. The outside air hangs in an eerie silence.

How could it be so cold here when it was so hot in town? I’m literally doing everything I can not to freak. I don’t want to think of torture, but I do. I don’t want to think of Fisher or Mario being violent, but I do. I don’t want to think that I’m going to die in this awful place, but I freaking do.

The wide porch is the same image The Center uses on the internet, only today it’s iced with snow. I push back my thoughts wishing I hadn’t done any research. But I did and now I can only hope the rumors aren’t true. Even detention centers have to abide by human-rights laws. They can’t do anything really horrible to us. They can’t let anything horrible happen to us. Especially not me. Uncle John would shut this place down faster that Fisher can spit.

On the wall by the wooden door, a movie poster hangs protected in thick plastic. It kills whatever optimism I have left. Printed in black, white, and blue tones, the number 1984 reads bold across the front, but that’s not what makes me think it’s from a scary movie. A creepy face glares out past thick red letters that bleed “BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING.”

I shiver. I hate all of those supernatural-keep-me-up-all-night-and-make-me-wet-the-bed stories. They can forget about me watching some psycho carve up college kids with a chainsaw. Or worse, that redrum movie Fisher keeps talking about. I’d rather read a book and that’s saying something.

Inside, the big open room has a high, log ceiling. Decapitated animals hang on the walls. The eyes of a stuffed wolf follow me across the room. A huge stone fireplace sits cold and empty in the middle of the room, gutted like the mounted animals.

Jackson leads us into an enclosed conference room that smells like wet kitty litter. Six long tables, four folding chairs each, face a platform and wall monitor. Dee Dee, Fisher and Mario all sit at their own tables. Jackson signals me to a separate one as well.

At the front of the room, a linebacker of a woman stands on the platform. Her hair is pulled tight in a librarian bun. Jackson takes off Fisher’s handcuffs and replaces them with a three-inch-wide, leather wristband. He repeats the action with Mario. When he comes to me and Dee Dee, he takes the cuffs off, but we don’t get tagged with the extra device.  

In the back of my mind, I remember something Jackson said about the boys. Lottery. Violence. I’m curious enough to listen to the big woman’s lecture.

“Welcome,” she says, her expression stony. “My name is Rowena. I’m part of the central guard here at The Center. We’re lovingly called The Gestapo by students.” She performs a macabre curtsy. “Don’t let the name scare you. If you behave, so will we.” Her grin is toothy while her eyebrows bend together with evil intent.

This woman is crazy. I look over at Dee Dee nibbling on a nail. Mario sits up straight while Fisher leans back on two legs of his chair. Stupid boy bravado.

“A couple of you are lottery students, selected from juvenile detention facilities, jails or prisons across the United States.”

Prisons? Seriously? This is supposed to be a tuition-based school, a camp for the troubled wealthy. Rowena makes it sound like anyone can get in. Including kids who’ve killed. I second guess my outburst on the bus. I should have left Fisher alone. He smiles and winks at me as if to punctuate my thoughts.

“The device locked on your wrists is called The Bracelet.” We all stare at the black band. “It’s a deterrent against bad behavior. At The Center we don’t tolerate fights. Even a heated argument that goes too far can signal the tower guards to send an electric current through you.”

“A taser?” Fisher claws at the band trying to remove it. “I’m wearing a taser?”

“You can’t remove it,” Jackson moves to calm Fisher, but Rowena’s already on it. She steps off the podium, leans in close to his ear. In a harsh whisper, loud enough for us all to hear, she says, “If you don’t stop messing with it, the other students can watch a live demonstration.”  

When Fisher doesn’t quit, she shouts, “Knock it off!”

The red-neck freezes.

Jackson shakes his head and moves back to the wall he was holding up.

Mario extends his arm as far away from his body as possible.

“Don’t worry.” Rowena’s spooky calm returns. “You won’t get shocked unless you act out. You didn’t come here to be bad, you came here to get better. Now, pay close attention to the short presentation.” She straightens her shirt and steps to the side of the platform.

The room darkens and a soundless video begins to play. It’s odd for me to notice the lack of noise. I only notice it because as soon as the images start, I begin to think the sound might make the video less awful. A kid with a knife running toward another suddenly freezes midstride. Every part of his body widens, his fingers, his chest, his eyes. After a half-dozen silent seconds he collapses to the ground.

I exhale with the others.

A different boy clamps a fistful of a girl’s top, trying to cop a feel. Chills run through me and I turn away from the film. I rub my wrist, glad I’m not connected to voltage. The groper must get zapped because the next time I look back at the screen, a girl with her hand wrapped in the hair of another suddenly grasps her wrist.

Rowena pauses the video. She waits and makes eye contact with each of us. “The Bracelet emits a small sting to warn anyone near to step back.” She looks directly at Dee Dee. “This is for your protection. You see, a human body is an excellent conductor of electricity.”

Dee Dee gulps.

They can’t be serious.

This has to be hype.

The Gestapo guard steps back and the movie begins again. The girl that let go of the other student’s hair, now grabs the victim’s throat. We all gasp as a silent scream comes from both girls before they collapse.

I’m stunned. If this whole thing is real, they just sent a jolt through someone innocent. “Why did you electrocute them both?” I say it aloud. I can’t help it. This whole thing is awful. Obviously this stupid bracelet contraption didn’t stop the initial attacks. I don’t want to be grabbed by anyone.

Rowena pauses the shock-fest again.

“The sting didn’t work.” I point to the frozen terror on the innocent girl’s face. “It didn’t freaking work.”

“Would you rather the victim be choked to death?”

“No. I’d rather you stepped in.”

“And what, get shocked myself?” She huffs and continues the show. I shake my head. Anger replaces fear in my mind.

“That’s it. I want to make a call.” I stand up with enough force to knock over my chair.

“Sit down,” Rowena growls.

“You’ll get your chance,” Jackson’s voice is softer.

“I want to call, now.”

Rowena steps down from the platform, glaring at me the whole time. She doesn’t have a weapon that I know of. She picks up my chair and snarls, “We’re not done yet. Now sit down before I put a bracelet on you.”

Holding the she-hulk’s gaze, I sit down and cross my arms. Not done yet, huh? Neither am I! These people will be beyond sorry when Uncle John hears from me.