Silence was a voice. A whistle of unspoken words, yet a moment of self-reflection. Everything was quiet, almost like a mute whistle. Just the breeze coming in was heard, playing a decent tune to the thoughts of a young boy who had always dreamt of growing up. There I was, standing in front of the mirror, as the alarm rang, interrupting my moment of silence. It was then I was called back from my land my of imagination. I had wandered far.
I had been giving it serious thought, wondering if running away was the answer, but there was nowhere to go. All that awaited me beyond the walls of our fancy building were the dangers and difficulties homeless people had to go through in life. I couldn't go through that, not when I was this young. I had to do what they wanted—my parents. I had to go where they wanted me to go. I had to leave my home and grow up in a strange world.
Woodsburg was news—a shocking one. That I deserved to attend the prison for teenage kids popularly known throughout the States because I fought my best friend and lost a tooth. It was certainly cruel. I could say a million things my parents did for me, but one thing was obvious: they were selfish and didn't love me. I barely remembered what their faces looked like until a day ago when I saw my mother again. Leaving a preteen like me to the house attendants, in a giant silent mansion, fancy yet lonely. Left to wander in his own thoughts on how to figure life out like it was some childhood rhyme.
I really understood them being abroad—they were busy. But sending me to Woodsburg was the greatest cruelty I ever had to go through. My mom insisted it was the safest place for me, but my dad insisted on legacy, one that he wanted to build. I had grown to understand that they only visited home anytime they wanted me to do something, so I already knew they came with bad news when my mother arrived a few days back.
When the news was broken to me, I could not do anything about it. I just cried secretly every day throughout the holiday. But as time went on, I got anxious. I was eager to see that new reality. I couldn't wait to see what life looked like in the dorms. I anxiously ticked the date on my calendar as it got closer each day. It was amazing how quickly time move. Time doesn't just speed; it passes like a breeze, leaving us unaware.
Just like a dream, it came, bringing us back to this moment of silence. The day was bright like every other one, with the sun slightly out as the clouds filled the sky. My bags were already packed, and I was already dressed, standing in front of my mirror, thinking. If only we could choose the life we wanted, all would have been great. I was lost, wandering in the vastness of my mind, thinking about what life would look like moving into the dorms. After the alarm called me out of lonely thoughts, I took a long gaze at myself in the mirror to see if I really fitted into that world of spoiled kids that were sent to Woodsburg to live up to their parents' legacies, or learn the true meaning of life in a place far from home. Unfortunately, the uniform suited me. It was who I was. It was where I belonged. It was the reflection of who I would become.
A few minutes later, my mother's car hooted outside to inform me it was time to leave. I heaved my head anxiously, then gazed at my room for the last time. Those action figures and toys, those portraits hanging on the wall—they all reminded me of how great and special I wanted to be as a child. Tears almost rolled out of my eyes as I walked out of the room, pulling my bags after me. After walking down the stairs, I could see my mom through the wide glass in the living room. She was standing by her car, calling out to me. By the time I got to her, she took a long stare at me, then smiled, which also reminded me of the moments I had with her as a child.
"You look great," I heard her say.
"Do I?"
Her smile widened insincerely. "I know you don't want to go."
"Like I had a choice. You made all the decisions for me."
She knelt in front of me and calmly patted me on the head. "I don't ever want to live my life without you either, but what choice do I have? It is hard to let you go. You're the best thing that ever happened to me," an unexplainable sad expression sat on her face.
"Then convince Dad to let me stay," tears finally dropped down my right cheek.
She sniffled and stood up immediately, like she had heard something she shouldn't.
"What?" I asked her.
"It is for the best, Thomas. You will make new friends, better than the ones you already knew. You will build your own legacy, and one day become one of the best scientists this generation has seen," she looked at me pitifully. She knew I didn't have what it takes to survive there.
"And who said I care about any legacy? I don't even know what that is. It is all you, and Dad's, and everyone expecting me to be who I am not. I'm tired of being that helpless kid. So if you are done pretending, let's get this over with," I said loudly before walking out on her.
"That was rude," she mumbled. "Who's going to put these bags in for you?" she shouted when she spotted my bags.
Shortly after that, we were ready to leave. She entered the car and fastened her belt. She had only one driving rule, and it was to ensure the belt was well buckled. She held the steering wheel and took a long stare at me before she cleared her throat.
"You know, my father use to say 'the next time you walk out on me, you'll be in damn crutches."
It sounded harsh, but I knew what she meant. My mother was mixed-race because her father was black. She wasn't black, though, but her mentality was. Those fancy lives that white kids got, only my dad gave me that; my mother's way of showing love was by discipline.
The drive from our home to Woodsburg was three hours. My mother's favorite playlist played loudly as we drove all the way there without saying a single word to each other. It was almost like it connected us in a way words couldn't. Every few minutes, she would look at me with pity, like she didn't want to let go. Honestly, I still didn't understand why any of them would let me go despite me being a good child. The rain showered for hours, causing us to drive with caution, making the journey look more further than it actually was. It was after four hours since we left home that we arrived at a giant gate with tall walls that I presumed to be Woodsburg, even though I hadn't seen the giant logo and name inscribed on it. It was giant enough to make a reasonable border between countries. It did match the alias given to it — the prison for mad kids. It really sent chills down my spine as I sat up restlessly. Our car hooted for a while, then the door automatically opened. My mother drove in, then made a turn around the fountain which had a huge signboard with a note on it, which I read to myself: "This is a fountain, do not swim in me. I'm not a swimming pool. Sharks lurk somewhere in here, and they are not merciful." It was quite amusing at first, but also sounded like the school already knew kids around our age were capable of great insanity, because even I had always wanted to swim in a public fountain — something I never dreamt of doing at home despite us having one.
After my mother maneuvered the gear to put the car to a stop beside the fountain, I stepped out of the vehicle, taking my crossbag with me. The sight of Woodsburg was quite appealing to the eyes. A Gothic-looking school, yet astonishing. It was a land of wonder, yet with a black and white lifestyle. It could be easily deduced that it had a reputation for science — a perfect place for me. My attention was called to the bell tower, the science hall, the clubs welcoming new students outside the school, and the good-looking uniforms. I never knew blue and black suited me until I wore the Woodsburg uniform. I was certainly admiring a prison just because it was giving the vibe I wanted.
My mother walked close to me, and we both stood there for a while staring at the bell tower. It was great. It was beautiful.
She cleared her throat. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"It is, at least it looks better than the future I could have had," I was reluctant to respond.
She marveled. "Come on, let's go see the principal."
We walked calmly toward the biggest building in the school, with the hope that it had to be the staff's building, leaving my other bags in the car. Locating the principal's office was a very difficult task. It took quite a lot of time to even find the staff's hall. We kept reading every note on every door, yet we didn't find the way to the principal's office. We eventually got to the end of the hall on the first floor, and my mother looked even more lost than I was.
"Hi, are you lost?" came that sweet female voice behind us.
My mother instantly turned to see who she was. "Yes, darling, we are so lost right now."
I still stared at the framed pictures of great scientists that lined the walls. I didn't bother to see who it was.
"Welcome to Woodsburg, I am Olivia."
"Thank you. I am Jess, and this is my son, Thomas."
I finally decided to turn to see who had that sweet name. It was then I met my joy-killer, my satisfying suicide, the one to be the end of me, Olivia Bree Martin. Her voice was sweet and melodious. Her sharp beige eyes left a great impression on my entire personality. I couldn't help but stare at her innocent smile as she described the principal's office to my mom. Turned out, it wasn't on the first floor, but on the last of the four-story building we were in. When she realized my mother didn't get the description, she volunteered to take us. At that moment, I finally found a reason to stay in Woodsburg. One worth dying for. One that almost cost me my life.
When we finally got to the last floor, she pointed the way to us and briskly walked away. I couldn't stop staring. There was a long wooden bench near the door, one as old as the building itself. One of its stands wasn't as long as the rest, but they never made an attempt to repair it. It was staggering when the side of my leg touched it. I had to hold it up. My mother knocked on the door twice, then a voice came from the other end. An adult male, probably in his early 40s, calling us in. My mother pushed the door open, and a young-looking man, dark, huge with a trimmed beard, welcomed us in like he had known my mom for quite a long time. It turned out, he not only knew her, but knew when I was born.
"Hey Jess, is that you I see? No, it can't be. Welcome to Woodsburg," Principal Marcus greeted my mom warmly.
"It is nice to see you too, Marcus," my mother addressed him by his first name.
"If you aren't too classy, would you please take a seat?"
We walked up to his desk. Two chairs were opposite his own, and they were divided by a big office desk with lots of educating equipment on it. The two chairs were facing the window with long Italian curtains behind his chair. There was a long sofa beside an old cupboard where medals and awards were kept. My mom pulled a chair out from under his desk and sat down, while I stood behind the other. Lesson number 3 I ever learned from my mother was to never sit down unless you are told to.
"Hey Thomas, why are you standing? Grab yourself a seat. I wouldn't want your father to think I was cruel to ya. Feel at home," he offered me a seat calmly.
I took a quick gaze at my mom, who smiled with the side of her mouth at me. It was a green light. So I pulled out the chair from under the desk and sat down comfortably.
"Sorry, he is always like that. He has a lot of respect for adults," I heard my mom say.
"No, I don't," the first time I heard my inner voice in a while.
"Oh... that's nice," he chuckled loudly. "I love kids with manners. This is a perfect school for a kid like him."
By that, he meant the perfect school to change those manners to madness. I just couldn't listen to them chattering like the gathering of mosquitoes planning a home invasion, so I decided to put my brain to the test instead by solving the hardest puzzle in the world at the time — the Rubik's cube.
After a while of them catching up on the times they missed, Principal Marcus stared at me from under his glasses, which I didn't notice at first.
"Young man, do you care for a short discussion?"
That was like a kidnapper asking you if you'd love to go on a road trip. Like you have a choice. Like they would let you go if you said no.
"Sure," I sat up.
"Your mom told me to take good care of you," he cleared his throat. "Your dad was a very close friend of mine, so I would love to consider you a friend too. Do you want to be my friend?"
There wasn't much to think about, I just nodded with a smile on my face. I had already imagined a lot. Being friends with the head of the school meant no rules for someone like me. But it wasn't that easy; that friend request wasn't free.
"So, Jess," — he faced my mom. "I think the boy is in good hands. You should be rest assured, I will treat him like my own. You can leave now, there is nothing to worry about."
"Thank you so much, Marcus. I will just go downstairs with him to fetch his bags. Let him have a dorm where he will not be bullied, and he doesn't really like mosquitoes."
Principal Marcus stood up. "Good to know you have agreed to let him be one of us. You should do that. I will make calls on his behalf and put up a good place for him."
We stood up immediately, and we left his office. As we approached the car, I walked far ahead of her as I was already anxious to move in and see beautiful faces like that of Olivia. She wasn't really ready to let go, but I was. I pulled the bags out of the trunk, and she finally got to me. She took a long stare, then smiled softly.
"You'll fit in. You always do," she said to me.
I didn't give a reply. I walked calmly out of her sight, pulling my bags after me.
"Thomas," she called me, and I stopped. "I love you."
"I know."
She smiled and watched me walk away.