Unsound (Horizons #1) Read online

  She had to be used to men ogling her, but I could see the appeal of Jeff. He was a tall, built, man with strong bone structure, piercing blue eyes and perfect wavy brown hair. He had that classic All-American thing going for him that made you look twice.

  "So what now?" I asked behind my sunglasses, I was bored and getting antsy. Adrenaline was building in my body causing my anxiety to flare. Sitting in one place was becoming a chore.

  "I'm going to send you back with Diane. She's the nurse on duty today. She started going through your belongings already, to make sure everything is up to par and you're not trying to sneak anything into campus. Although you received a full physical at the hospital, you’re going to get one here too and…."

  "You’re sugar coating that this is a cavity check…" I interjected dejectedly.

  Jeff looked at me and shrugged apologetically. He felt for me, I'm sure, but it was procedure. He pressed a button on his phone and a few moments later, a stout woman escorted me down the hall.

  Diane opened a door for me to enter a small gray room at the end of the hall. The hall had been gray, Diane's scrubs were gray, even her hair was gray. The room smelled medicinal and was barren except for the long metal table pushed against the far wall and a chair bolted to the ground that I was instructed to sit on. There were no windows; the only source of light came from a florescent bulb on the ceiling. There was a small bathroom off to the side, one sink, one toilet, and no mirror. On the other end was another door.

  My suitcase was open on the table and I could tell it had already been searched, some contents strewn haphazardly on the table around it. A young doctor or nurse in pink scrubs opened the other door. I could see behind her frame a small room with some medical equipment that appeared to be the doctor's office. It was blue and yellow. Perhaps that was done on purpose, to make it feel friendlier when they checked my recesses.

  I heard the snap of rubber gloves and heard Diane drag my duffel across the steel table as I walked towards the doctor's office, pulling off my sweatshirt along the way.

  I had been naked a lot in my last five months on the street, but I still felt as though I was about to be violated. I hated the inspection, hated that my belongings were being riffled through. Safety wasn't as important as my dignity, especially when I knew the only substance in my bags were a few packs of cigarettes., which were only illegal because of my age.

  Lena

  I sat across from Jeff, waiting for him to look up from my resume. I was surprised when I got the call to interview. I had sent my resume out like a mass mailing to numerous schools when I eagerly started my job search. I thought it would be a breeze to get a teaching job with my fresh Master’s degree, but after two weeks without even an acknowledgement from any school, the discouragement started to seep in. After five weeks I was nothing short of shocked to get a call from Horizons.

  Over the phone Jeff said he had wanted to bring me in for an interview earlier but there wasn’t a spot for me at the time. He seemed really thankful and almost relieved that I was still available and in such short notice.

  “Lena,” Jeff started, “sorry for being a few minutes late. We admitted a new student today and they were a little late getting up here and well… here we are.”

  “Here we are,” I parroted. I adjusted myself in the chair, crossing and re-crossing my legs, smoothing my skirt over my thighs. I tried to make it look natural but I was trying to dry my sweaty palms. A job interview was intimidating enough, but someone as good-looking as Jeff definitely induced my nerves.

  “Your resume impressed me,” Jeff said, looking down at the paper again. I took the reprieve to check him out. He was extremely handsome. His face was chiseled with a strong jaw that was accentuated by his five o’clock shadow. As he glanced down, I took in his long eyelashes, almost brushing his cheekbones. As if he could feel my eyes on him, he looked up into my chocolate brown eyes.

  My mouth went dry as a blush crept up my neck.

  “I’m surprised,” I commented quickly, trying to distract Jeff. He looked at me, puzzled, and I felt my face flush with more heat, “well, it’s just. I sent that resume, oh I don’t know. Five weeks ago, it’s just rare to hear back so long after,” Jeff continued to stare at me.

  “Don’t get me wrong!” I stammered on, misinterpreting Jeff’s silence and scared I had stuck my foot in my mouth. After all, he already explained that there hadn’t been a position at that time, “I’m glad I got a call back. Just… you know… surprised.”

  Jeff laughed, and although it seemed genuine and not filled with malice, I felt young and naïve, “no, you’re right. Like I said, we had no openings but something just came up. I’ll be honest with you. It’s uncommon that we have someone quit on us last minute with little notice and you’re the most recent resume I had on file. Not to say that it didn’t impress me.

  “I read in your cover letter that you have experience in a rehabilitation facility?” Jeff prompted. He didn’t want to force the conversation, he wanted to lead it. It was a technique I learned. This was a test. He wanted to see if I could take this conversation where it needed to go.

  I hadn’t forgotten that I filled out a form allowing a background check. There was no reason to believe any of my past demons remained hidden. I made a point to maintain eye contact with Jeff although I hated answering the question. Having been born and raised on a nearby reservation, I had a tough childhood. My father was an alcoholic and my mother was dead before I was a week old.

  I had never been sure if my father had always been an alcoholic, or if my mother’s death had brought on the need to drink. I had barely even had a conversation with my father. My older brothers, taking after my dad in many ways, treated me with the same disdain. It was as if they blamed me, a little girl, for my mother’s death.

  It wasn’t until I found a picture of my mother hidden in a box at the back of the closet that I understood why my father and brothers hated me so much. I looked exactly like my mother, from the dark, almost almond shaped eyes, to the long black hair, to the high cheekbones and even dimple in the left cheek when I smiled. I’ll never be sure if they knew about the dimple since I never smiled around them.

  I had been seven when I found the picture. That’s when I started hating myself as well. I always tried to make myself appear invisible. I didn’t like making my father angry so I would tread silently at home. At school I kept to myself, never quite fitting in. Without a mother for guidance or any peers to learn from and only having oversized hand-me-downs from my brothers, I was quickly and easily cast off.

  It wasn’t long before I was grateful for the oversized clothes. Once my father started hitting me, I was thankful I had loose clothes to cover the bruises and welts.

  With a sigh, I opened my mouth to answer, knowing there was no point in lying, “Well, long story short; after my father was sent to jail for attacking me, I was forced into the foster system. My older brothers didn’t want me and I didn’t have any other relatives. Things were pretty rough those years and I suffered with depression and self-mutilation. It took a while for anyone to find out, but it eventually landed me in a rehab facility.

  “During my time there, I started the process so that I could be an emancipated minor at 17. I worked at the rehab facility so that I could continue seeking therapy and I picked up a waitressing job so I could put myself through school.

  “I decided it was best to use what I learned to help others. That’s why I only recently graduated; I took my time getting through school.”

  Jeff

  I smiled at her; relieved she told me the truth. Of course I knew about her past. After seeing her amazing credentials I ran a complete background check. You can never be too careful about who is brought in to teach the kids. She signed a waver for the background check, so she had to know her past was no secret, but it’s still difficult to unleash your demons out loud to a stranger.

  “I really admire that,” I started, “I think it really helps to understand the st
udents when you have experienced similar things. It took me a little longer to realize I could help lost kids. It took quite a few years, quite a few more relapses, and a few more adult facilities before I found my way back here.”

  Lena nodded. She hadn’t been expecting my admission. Her eyes got bigger as I looked into them and I felt my body lean forward instinctively. It wanted to be closer to her. My heartbeat quickened. I cleared my throat and looked back at her resume and transcript, breaking eye contact.

  ”Well, I’d like to give you a trial run if you’re interested. We aren’t exactly orthodox here, so we like to make sure that you’re comfortable with our methods and vibe with the kids before drawing up contracts,” I said, shuffling papers to look anywhere but Lena’s beautiful face or toned, tan legs. She had no idea that she was killing me every time she crossed and re-crossed her legs.

  “Absolutely!” Lena exclaimed. A grin split her face when I finally looked up at her; I swore my heart stopped beating. I felt a heat spread through my chest and felt my mouth break into a grin of its own. I was sure I looked like a goofy idiot but I didn’t care.

  We worked out details, and I stepped from behind my desk to walk Lena out. Her shoulder brushed against my arm as I leaned around her to get the door, sending a shiver up my arm. The way she looked at me told me that she felt it too. As I shut the door after our goodbye, I leaned against it running a hand through my hair.

  “This may not be a good idea,” I told myself, trying to shake the image of Lena from my mind as I walked back to my desk.

  Julie

  About forty minutes later, I was back in Jeff's office.

  "So Julie, how are you feeling?" Jeff started again.

  I was tired, I didn't even have enough energy for sass, "I've been better."

  Jeff closed my file and nodded, "You haven't had much time for detox. I'm sure your first couple of weeks are going to be a little rough. So let's talk about your file."

  I took a deep breath and let it out, "what do you want to know that you haven't already found in that little file of yours?"

  "Little? There was a bit to go through… prostitution, drugs. There was a strong possibility of you headed to jail instead of coming here…"

  "I see bluntness isn't an issue with you," I cut him off.

  "Well I would like to know why you ran away. I know that you spent some time in another facility a few years back. But that was a battle with an eating disorder. There were no drugs on your record then, no other red flags. You left there with letters from your doctors about you being happy and fully recovered. There were even follow ups that you went back to dancing."

  "Ah, those were the days," I deflected.

  "What happened?"

  I shrugged, "I was thirteen. I was a dancer. It was just your run-of-the-mill eating disorder... meant to show your ballet teachers how serious you were about becoming a prima ballerina. I went back to dance but never picked up the eating disorder again."

  "So your running away had nothing to do with your eating disorder?"

  "Correct," I said. Facts. I was back to my method of giving only blunt facts.

  "So is there anything you want to say about the last seven months?"

  "You didn't read the police report? I thought they covered all the fun facts," I replied.

  "Yup, you're right," Jeff said as he closed the file. Clearly he wasn't going to push the issue any further. I appreciated that.

  "So, let's cover the basics then. First of all, this is a school. You will attend classes Monday through Friday; sometimes we have special classes or excursions on the weekends and you'll have some counseling sessions throughout the week and on the weekends as well. You're going to be in the Mountain Climbers group. There are five other members in your group at the moment. Some are about a year or so older than you. You only missed five months of school and you were in a lot of advanced classes, so I'm thinking this is the best fit academically.

  "Secondly, please understand that counseling sessions are as important as class attendance. You're going to have solo sessions, group sessions, family sessions—and it all depends on what you're willing to put into this and where we feel you will make the most progress."

  When I didn't say anything, Jeff continued, "Besides your classes, you are going to eat meals with your group members, hang out with them, and you are going to be living in a cabin with them."

  "Co-ed dorming? Maybe this won't be so bad," I interjected.

  "Not quite, you will be living with Michelle and Marie. A few girls graduated recently so the cabin is a little empty. Michelle sort of plays a housemother roll.

  "Your cabin is modeled after a sleeping dorm or a cold dorm."

  "What the heck is that?" I asked.

  "I went to college in the south to play football. Cold dorms are popular down there with sorority houses and such. It's pretty much a way for them to house extra girls by having one large room set up where they all just sleep. The girls may have desks and closets in separate parts of the house, but they all sleep together in a large room."

  "I'm picturing an orphanage," I grumbled. I knew I was being a brat, but I'd never shared a room with anyone before. My sister and I had always had our own bedrooms. And the last few months I was so messed up all the time that it barely registered there were other people around, so my roommates didn't count.

  "Think of it more like practice for college then," Jeff rebutted, "We do keep them moderately cool and dark so that you're encouraged to spend time with your group in the common lounges, but you have bed lamps, a dresser, closet space. The girls will help you get oriented with all of that tonight.

  "So now for the most important rules: there are no drugs, no drinking, no smoking, and no relationships. You're here to work on yourself and fix yourself and so is everyone else," Jeff added before I could interject again.

  I rolled my eyes, "that takes the fun out of life," I mumbled.

  "You could be in juvie right now, meeting your cellmate, so remember that this isn't punishment, this is rehabilitation," Jeff said with a serious tone.

  "But I want you to know. We understand that things happen, slip-ups happen. Yes, there are repercussions, but screwing up is human. Punishments are always less severe if you come clean and tell us the truth. But then again, there are some limitations; you can't expect for all your messes to be cleaned up all the time. Ultimately, you are here for you, you are here to heal. Any questions?"

  "Nope, I'm crystal," I said, stifling a yawn. My hands were shaking and I was getting nauseous. I wanted fresh air and a cigarette.

  Luckily Jeff was done with his spiel. I signed some paperwork and he gave me an i.d. bracelet, "Dark blue," he explained, "is the Mountain Climber color."

  "I would call this more of a royal blue," I quipped quietly as I held out my wrist for Jeff to put it on. There would be some notebooks and pens along with my books in the cabin. My bags had already been brought over, so all I had to do was make the short walk.

  I entered the cabin that I would call home. It was the first place on the tour of campus. I was supposed to meet Michelle here to begin the tour, but I needed to rest.

  "Hi! You're Julie?" a tall, stunning, dark-skinned girl greeted me. Michelle was putting some books away on a shelf. She turned to look at me and her eyes visibly widened before she trained her expression and smiled softly, "why don't you get settled and I'll go get you some water. I think you need a few minutes for yourself."

  "Thanks," I said with a forced laugh of gratefulness, "Do I look as green as I feel?"

  "I've been there, trust me. You're going to be sleeping over here," Michelle pointed to the bed she was standing at. She must have been setting up my books and notebooks for class.

  "Thank you," I said, stopping at the foot of the bed, "the bathroom is through there?"

  "Yup, I'll be back in a few," Michelle called over her shoulder as she left the cabin. Appreciation rushed over me again that Michelle understood I needed time to rally.


  I took in my surroundings. As promised, the cabin was dark and cool. Although it was an empty strange place, I felt safer than I had in years. I felt a tug in my gut thinking how my sister was still trapped in that house. But she must be fine. She had to be fine.

  I shook the thought off as I looked around at the two rows of beds facing each other, each with its own darkened window above. Once my eyes adjusted, I noticed that only two nightstands were occupied in the row across from me. I looked down towards the dimly lit bathroom and headed towards it.

  JONATHAN

  I turned to walk into the kitchen and nearly collided with Michelle who had a glass of ginger ale in one hand and water in the other.

  "Sorry, Michelle!" I said backing away before I got splashed, "you thirsty?"

  "Oh, no…" she looked at me a little sheepishly, "Julie, the uh, new girl…" Michelle trailed off. We were close and I could tell she didn't want to rat Julie out. However, I had also gone through a tough detox when I arrived so I understood without her having to say.

  "She not doing so hot?" I asked quietly, looking around to make sure no one was listening.

  "Yeah," Michelle admitted with a shrug, "she was just looking a little rough. I told her to lie down for a minute."

  I remembered my first couple of weeks here. I remembered the pain and the nausea. I remembered the nights it was so bad that I wanted to die.

  "Gotcha," I said, "I'm not jealous of that feeling. I'll see you later."

  From the window, I watched Michelle walk back to the girls' cabin. Knowing she wouldn't turn back, I turned and walked towards the kitchen. I paused outside the walk-in pantry, took a quick look around, and slipped inside.

  Marie was in the corner, sitting on an overturned milk crate, pretending to read a book. I knew she was pretending because she was posing atop that crate; lips pursed, book held lightly in one hand so that she could toss her hair back with the other. It was a practiced move I had seen often from her. When I walked in, she gave it a second before tossing her hair, closing the book with no note of the page and giving me a surprised expression that I was there.