* * *
Ms. Winter and I make the connecting flight without a hitch and arrive in Bozeman at six o’clock. A valet brings her car to the baggage claim doors. Not surprisingly, it’s a top-model sedan with a posh leather interior. I wouldn’t expect anything less for a woman of her caliber.
We navigate away from the airport and turn onto the two-lane highway. The monstrous Rocky Mountains block the sun and cast a shadow across the valley. I stare out the window at the massive peaks, wondering how tall they are.
“Calli, would you tell me what your body felt like as you ran the hundred meters?” Ms. Winter asks without taking her eyes off the road.
Definitely a strange question. “Well, I don’t quite know how to explain it, but I wasn’t exhausted when I finished.”
“Could you have run faster?” she asks, and I wonder if she’s testing me.
“Faster? Well, I guess, um, yes, I think I could have.” I’m not sure why I feel ashamed to be admitting this. Ms. Winter seems relieved, as if a heavy load has been removed from her shoulders. I wonder why, but before I can figure out how to frame the question, she slows the car and turns into a restaurant parking lot.
“Let’s go in and eat. Dinner will have already been served at the compound, and I can’t have you going to bed hungry.”
Any questions I have vanish. My stomach has been growling, and the thought of warm food sounds wonderful.
As we enter the diner, the hum of conversation ceases. Ms. Winter doesn’t seem disturbed by the blatant stares of the locals who are attired in tattered overalls and plaid shirts. She acts as if nothing is out of the ordinary.
We seat ourselves, and a bubbly young waitress appears instantly.
“Ladies, how are we today?” Barb, as the label-maker nametag announces, cracks her chewing gum annoyingly while she prepares to scribble on her pad.
Ms. Winter smiles and answers politely, “Wonderful, Barb.”
Barb hands us menus and leaves to “grab us waters.” I glance over the photocopied sheet of paper.
I want a burger and fries, and the Big Sky burger plate sounds like the one for me. I don’t know what is acceptable to order, so I ask Ms. Winter, “What are you going to have?”
“Calli, you can order whatever you want,” she reassures me, almost as if she’s reading my mind.
When Barb returns to take our orders, Ms. Winter requests a detailed special combination of foods consisting of mostly fresh vegetables. The waitress seems to be a bit put out with the particulars and looks to me to see what out-of-the-ordinary order I will place.
“Big Sky burger plate and a Coke,” I say.
Barb smiles, jots some notes on her pad, then excuses herself.
Ms. Winter takes a sip of her ice water before she asks, “Are you nervous, Calli?”
“Yes, a little,” I admit, feeling shy about saying so.
“I don’t doubt it. Calli, there’s so much to explain to you, but we’ll do that tomorrow after breakfast. Tonight, you’ll be shown to your room. You absolutely must not venture outside the building. Do you understand?”
“No going outside?”
“Correct.”
“Okay. Who’s my roommate?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll find out when we arrive. The female hall and living arrangements are handled by Stella Wood. She oversees the assignments and makes sure everyone is getting along. Talk to her if anyone is giving you a hard time. My door is always open, but I prefer you take your rooming issues to Stella first.”
“Why would anyone give me trouble?” I ask, knowing the answer as soon as the question passes my lips: I’m faster than everyone else. Of course they will view me as a threat.
“I’m not saying they will, only if they do. Also, any and all phone calls will be made through my office, and I will be monitoring them until I’m convinced you’ve grasped the workings of the compound. Oh, and there are no cell phones at the compound. We have a scrambler.”
My head reels. Monitored phone calls? Workings of the compound? Am I headed to prison?
Ms. Winter continues. “You’re going to be a bit overwhelmed at first, but I’m sure you will adjust to everything easily with time. Remember this important rule: no leaving the building after dark.”
“Is it because the paparazzi are waiting to attack?”
“I’ll show you why tomorrow night. This evening I have too many things to catch up on.”
Show me? What does she mean?
We talk for a little while longer and then our food arrives. My burger and fries look heavenly and taste even better. Ms. Winter’s plate, on the other hand, contains primarily raw vegetables without dip. Yuck.
Ms. Winter uses a carrot stick to point at my plate. “I hope your burger is good. Just so you know, burgers are not served at the training facility.”
I figured as much. Coach Simms tells us repeatedly that what we eat and drink affects our performance. Things like carbonated sodas, he says, slow our running times, but that has never stopped me from indulging once in a while. Look at me now: I drink sodas, eat burgers, and still run faster than any human on earth. Go figure.
We finish our food, and Ms. Winter puts down a sizable tip before we leave the diner to start the final leg of our journey. The road takes us higher in altitude to where pine and fir trees grow. No more sagebrush, only lush and thick forest with twisting roads. Due to the pressure change, I have to pop my ears several times on the ascent. We round a corner, and the entire windshield fills with the view of the compound.
The huge building looks like an Alpine Chalet, designed similarly, with intricately cut eaves and trim. Many of the windows lining the exterior are illuminated from the interior lighting. Standing outside the tall windowed front doors, four adults wait to greet us.
We climb out of the car. A woman immediately pulls Ms. Winter to the side and gives her a hushed message. I don’t mean to eavesdrop, but I read the woman’s lips and am able to take in half of the conversation.
“Clara, they never made it. Chris is still gone, investigating their last known location with a Hunter. He’s trying to determine who’s responsible for this.” The woman pauses as she listens to something Ms. Winter says, and then adds, “As soon as you left, the Seers reported a fog that remains fixed in place. The last time that happened, well, I don’t need to remind you—”
My attention is pulled away by the remaining three adults as they welcome me to the compound. One of the women introduces herself as Stella Wood. I smile and nod, not really hearing what they’re saying. I keep looking back at Ms. Winter. What’s going on? Ms. Wood holds her hand out in invitation and says, “Let’s get inside.”
We enter the building and stand facing a giant staircase.
Ms. Winter ends her mysterious conversation and joins us, leading the way up to the second floor. She makes a swooping motion with her arm, “Calli, this is the girls’ hall.”
Ms. Wood walks ahead of us and knocks on each door.
Girls step from their rooms out into the hallway. Obviously they’ve been told a new athlete would be arriving. I make eye contact with the nearest girl and smile. She gives me a sour look. The girl across the hall has the same look. I’m confused because these two are younger than I am. Further down the hall, I note that not all of the girls are this young. One thing stands out though: every girl, whether twelve or twenty, is beautiful, not just pretty, but gorgeous, even with the crabby expressions on their faces.
“Come.” Ms. Winter pulls me forward. “Everyone, this is Calli Courtnae from Ohio.”
I greet everyone in my most cordial voice. “Hello.”
No one says anything in return.
We continue down the hall and Ms. Winter tells me the name of each girl as we pass. I smile and greet each one. No one responds. I notice that every girl, has a perfectly proportioned body, with long legs and small breasts, accentuated by lean, toned muscles. Their bodies seem to be genetically perfect for cross-country runni
ng, regardless of their skin color or height. I realize I look nothing like them. The expressions on their faces and the whispers behind my back tell me they’re thinking the same thing.
As we arrive at the end of the hallway, my eyes connect with a girl with heavy black eyeliner and unnaturally black hair. At least she stands apart from the other girls. She scrutinizes my appearance, looking me up and down, and then says to Ms. Winter and Ms. Wood, “No! No, I’m not rooming with that . . . that human!”
“Calli, this is Beth Hammond. She’s your roommate,” Ms. Wood informs me.
Beth focuses on my face and says adamantly, “No, I’m not.” Then she turns to Ms. Winter and orders, “Find another room.” Beth flips around and struts into her room.
Ms. Winter rolls her eyes ever so slightly and follows Beth.
Stella Wood places her hand on my forearm. “Give us a moment, Calli. Wait here.”
Stella follows Ms. Winter into Beth’s room, leaving me alone with the world’s most stuck-up girls. I turn around, wondering how many girls are still staring. Everyone who’s remained in the hallway gathers around me with expressions of derision plastered across their faces. The kids at my high school ignored me on a regular basis, and I was perfectly fine with that. But they never looked down their noses at me the way these girls do. These girls don’t even know me. How could they hate me?
One older girl asks, “How fast can you run, Calli?”
I figure a vague answer might be the best bet at the moment, so I answer with, “Fast enough to be invited to come here.”
She persists with a mega-snobbish attitude. “What’s your time?”
“I’m sorry, what was your name?” I ask, trying to be polite.
Another girl steps beside her and takes over the drilling session. “She asked how fast you are.”
Some girls further down the hall whisper to each other, and I read their lips. I can’t make out the whole conversation, but I pick up on a few words: “spy,” “lock your door tonight,” and “don’t talk to her.”
I shoot the same question back at the girl who is interrogating me, “How fast are you?” From the stunned expression on her face, I can tell she didn’t expect me to answer that way.
Ms. Winter and Ms. Wood come out of Beth’s room and usher me in. I hear them tell the other girls to “lighten up on her” and “you know the rules.”
“Calli, we’ll go get your things while you make yourself comfortable,” Ms. Winter says, leaving me to fend for myself against Attila the Hun.
“I’ll help you,” I offer, but Ms. Winter shakes her head and closes the door.
Beth stares me down with her darkly outlined eyes. Her eye color appears to be gray or perhaps watery light blue. It’s hard to tell because her eyes are so narrowed. Her standoffish attitude leaves my skin cold as she says, “I don’t want a roommate. Clara’s losing her mind.” Beth stands and stomps over to her dresser and brushes her hair while she stares daggers at me through her mirror. She lets out a huff of exasperated air and slams the brush down on the polished wood. “I finally move up in the ranking order around here, and I get stuck with the muck,” she declares angrily.
“Thanks,” I mutter. I walk over to my bed and sit down.
She wags her black-tipped pointer finger at me. “Don’t be thinking I’m going to be your friend or anything. I don’t like you! You’ve got human written all over your aura.” Her arms make a sweeping circular motion. “Now, Clara brings you here, exposing our location to the world.”
I’ve had enough. “Sheez, you’re paranoid, but I guess that goes along with the hair.” A rather daring comeback, I must admit.
“What does that mean?”
I imitate her circular motion with my hands. “Isn’t that the look you’re going after? The hair, eyes, nails, attitude—it’s a complete paranoia package. Anyone who dresses like you is constantly aware of everyone around them, positive others are looking at them, judging them. You’re paranoid.” I take a breath and finish before she can interrupt, “Oh, and I’m not a snitch.”
Ms. Winter enters the room, carrying my luggage. “Here you go, Calli.” She sets my bags down and faces Beth. “Beth, will you show her around?”
“No.”
“All right,” Ms. Winter says to Beth in an exhausted tone. Then she turns to me and says, “Breakfast is at eight sharp in the dining hall on the main floor. Good night, girls.” She leaves and shuts the door behind her.
Beth stares at me for a few seconds before asking, “How fast are you?”
No way am I going to tell her exactly how fast I timed out, or the fact I could have run even faster. “Probably not as fast as you.”
“Well, we’ll find out soon enough. A word of advice . . . showing off around here will only get you beat up.”
“So, I should run slowly?”
“Yep.”
“Would you beat me up?”
“Yep. I’ve worked and trained hard to get to where I am, and I’m not going to let you ruin that for me.”
I realize she’s afraid of me and, oddly enough, that calms me down.
“This side of the room is mine. Don’t touch anything.” Beth makes a chopping motion with her arm to draw an imaginary line.
I glance up at the walls on “my side” of the room, only to see her posters with things dark and mysterious covering them. I look back at her, hoping she’ll say she’ll remove them.
“Don’t touch those either,” she says, noticing my look.
Fine! “Where’s the bathroom?” I stand, itching to get out of the room.
“Find it yourself.” She points to the door.
I suppose a common bathroom must be down the hall somewhere, and as I don’t want to stay any longer in her black cave of a bedroom, I leave. Everyone has gone back into their bedrooms and shut their doors, but it isn’t like they would point me to the little girls’ room anyway. Maybe this is some sort of initiation rite for newcomers. Well, that’s just swell. I prefer to do things all on my own anyway.
The interior of the compound has a masculine feel with its dark woodwork and jewel-toned carpets and draperies. Dim lights, positioned every couple of feet in the ceiling, along with antique sconce light fixtures on the walls by every bedroom door, illuminate the hallway.
I walk the entire length of the girls’ hall and can’t find the bathroom. Climbing the staircase at the end of the corridor and rounding the corner at the top, I crash right into a rock-hard body. I instantly apologize, then look up and see my hands are planted on the bare chest of a dark haired guy with deep-set eyes. I remove my hands and divert my eyes to the floor, and find he wears only a towel around his waist. I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I don’t know where to focus my eyes, so I look back up into his, hoping my cheeks are not as red as they feel.
“What are you doing up here?” he squints his eyes and speaks in a blunt tone.
“I’m, um, sorry. I didn’t know this was the boys’ hall.” I take a step back. My eyes follow his hands as he secures the towel around his waist. I notice his well-defined chest and stomach muscles and realize I’m staring. I look back up to his eyes.
His head tilts to the side, with one eyebrow raised, as his eyes travel over my body. “You must be the new muck.”
I’m unnerved to be called that again. I ask, “What does ‘muck’ mean?”
“It means I don’t have to speak with you.” He turns and walks away, calling over his broad, muscular shoulder, “You should leave the way you came in.”
Okie-dokie. Oh, how I detest guys like him. Jocks! They think they are all that, and everyone else is inferior. If he’s an indication of what all the guys look and act like at this facility, then I’m going to be miserable.
Descending the stairs, I notice a small sign on the door at the bottom of the staircase, designating it as the bathroom. How embarrassing. I walked right by the door. If I’d seen the door earlier I could have avoided Hot Jock.
Minutes
later I enter my room again. Beth makes eye contact with me for a second, then rolls away to face the wall.
I change into my night clothes and lie down on the remarkably comfortable bed. Staring at the ceiling, I think about the day. It started well enough, but ended miserably. My grouchy roommate refers to me as a human. I have been called “muck” twice. Even though I don’t know the meaning of the word, the look in the eyes of both Beth and the good-looking guy when they use the word tells me the word isn’t anything polite. Maybe it’s some type of superior athlete’s slang. The four-letter “M” word.
I miss my parents, Suz, and my little hometown. I miss the familiarity of my life, my usual daily grind, my comforts, even my distresses. At least they are normal for me and I know how to deal with them. This place, however, has “strange” stamped all over it. I’m unwelcome here. I’ve never felt more abnormal. Will I ever fit in? My stomach growls as I turn over and fall asleep.
Chapter 2 - Paradigm Shift