Inescapable Escapism

I wasn’t sure what to expect from the private lessons with Rodgers when they first started. I had told him that I wanted to learn everything, which had made him and Jenna laugh, but it didn’t feel mean. He’d said he’d do his best, but I didn’t expect him to actually take me seriously. Having no better place to start, we decided to work alphabetically. Botany was the first subject we focused on, but we didn’t stay there for long.

It was too easy to get distracted, too easy to go off-topic. Rodgers used too many examples, explained how he’d used the information when he was in the field. He’d started earlier than I expected, recruited at thirteen and sent on his first mission when he was fifteen. It was a different time, he explained, even though it was only a couple of years ago. Things weren’t the same then.

He was a great teacher to me and Scott, who joined us after the first couple of days. Scott had been reluctant to tell us what had happened at first, but Abbie had told me everything one evening. It was a climbing accident. He somehow managed to dislocate his shoulder, and Jenna had to put it back in place. The noise had been horrific, apparently, and he had been instructed to rest, just like I had.

At first, I was kind of annoyed that he was joining us. I loved being able to just ask Rodgers whatever I thought of, and I was self-conscious about doing that in front of someone else, but Scott asked just as many questions as I did. It was great. He thought of things that I didn’t but that I longed to learn more about.

It was fascinating to learn how every single subject we were going to study intertwined with others and could be applied to both field work and the behind the scenes work. Rodgers shied away from some topics at first, reminding us that he wasn’t allowed to mention anything that could come up in our exams, but as soon as those passed, he told us everything.

I soaked up the information like a sponge, constantly eager to hear more. No matter how many questions Scott and I asked him, though, I was never satisfied. It was never enough. I had to know everything, to hear everything, and only then would I be happy. That desire, that desperation, soaked into my real life too.

Every night when I fell asleep in my dorm room, after I had recalled everything that Rodgers had said that I could remember for Katie and Abbie, and they’d told me everything that they had covered in their fitness class, I withdrew from the fantasy. I spent my time on my phone. Life became an endless search for knowledge. I was parched, desperate for more. I needed to know everything. My days in Scotland were spent pouring over books, sometimes even textbooks, reading countless Wikipedia articles, and going on endless spirals where I discovered the strangest and most niche topics, but I couldn’t stop. It was too interesting.

I even downloaded apps to help teach me things. The language apps were my favourite, even if they were nothing compared to the classes we had at the Academy. I spent hour after hour on those apps, muttering words under my breath and memorising new alphabets. I always thought I was terrible at learning other languages. I’d barely passed French in school, after all. But that didn’t seem to be true. It was difficult, of course, but I enjoyed it.

Mom had become suspicious of me, though. I think she noticed a difference in how I was acting, which wasn’t that surprising. I felt different. She burst into my room on multiple occasions, demanding to see my phone and bombarding me with questions when she found the apps. She didn’t trust what I was doing and felt I was hiding something, which was understandable, really. I found a way around it, though.

I’m not proud of it, but I kind of manipulated her. I wasn’t sure where it came from; I had spoken without thinking when she demanded to know why I was suddenly so studious. It felt cruel, but I told her that she had inspired me. The look on her face both made me feel guilty and spurred me on. I said that her talking to my grandparents about my future made me realise that I needed to take it seriously and get focused.

I’d heard her bragging about that to someone on the phone later that evening.

It was helping. That was a strange realisation that came over me as I lied to my mom. Studying and learning things for the Academy was helping me in reality. The information was correct in both worlds, I had discovered, and that could only be a good thing. It would help my career and my future one day. If I kept at it.

Some days were easier than others. I’d wake up already excited to study and learn more, but others were harder. I didn’t always want to get out of bed. Couldn’t bear the thought of lifting my phone to my face and reading anything. My mind didn’t always want to focus in either worlds. That made me angry sometimes, but it also pushed me to start working out again.

It sounds silly, but it was mostly because of Abbie and Katie. Whenever they talked about what they had done in class, even though it was usually basic things like running, climbing, swimming or weights, it just made me want to do it. I wanted to be able to join in, even though it meant I’d have to stop having lessons with Rodgers, which I wasn’t ready for.

But I could work out in real life without giving that up. It was hard starting again, even though it had only been days since I’d worked out last. My body rebelled against me. The first time I tried to swim, I was wracked with stabbing pains in my stomach, radiating out from the fading bruise, that almost made me sick. I had to move slowly, timidly. I started by walking, not running.

My phone buzzed, and I looked down immediately, fighting to keep my expression neutral.

“Is that Phoebe?” my mom asked with a sneer, having noticed me glance at my phone.

I smiled at her across the table.

“It is,” I lied.

There was a moment of silence as I took another bite of pizza, savouring the taste. Even though we’d eaten at Tony’s so many times over the past three weeks, I still loved it. I knew that I’d be sad when we left, and I wouldn’t be able to eat there again for almost a full year.

“How is she?”

I was a little surprised that Mom even asked. She didn’t like Phoebe, and she made that abundantly clear. Repeatedly.

“She’s good. Having a good time in France now,” I replied.

It was mostly the truth. She was getting used to it more and finding it easier to interact with people, which she put down to the fact that she’d actually started to like the taste of wine rather than any improvements in her language skills. I wasn’t sure if that was true, but the drunk texts I had been receiving from her made it seem like a possibility. Although, occasionally, they were in French, and those seemed to almost make sense.

My mom snorted but didn’t say anything as she continued to pick at her risotto. I forced myself to continue to eat normally rather than rushing to grab my phone like I wanted to. It would be too obvious if I did, and I didn’t want my mom to demand to see my text. Then she’d know that I was lying.

Finishing my pizza, I folded my napkin and placed it on the table before grabbing my phone and sliding out of the booth we had been seated in.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I said to my mom.

“Okay,” she said without even looking up from whoever she was texting.

I caught a glimpse of a long message as I walked past her, and part of me was tempted to slow down and read it even though I knew it would be wrong. It was curiosity, more than anything. She didn’t really have that many friends, so who could she be texting? My phone buzzed again, distracting me, and I hurried into the bathroom.

Shutting the stall door behind me, I sat down and unlocked my phone.

Miss you, the first message from Duncan read. You still want to hang out next week?

My heart thumped in my chest, and my hands felt clammy as I stared at the text. We’d been texting almost normally since that flirtatious series of messages, and it was a bit of a disappointment. I wanted to flirt with him, but I couldn’t think of anything to say or a way to start it. Every time I tried, it just felt wrong. Anything I wrote read badly, so I ended up deleting the messages and just hoped he’d say something.

But maybe that was why he had asked. Maybe he expected me to flirt with him, and because I hadn’t, he was starting to change his mind. I chewed on my lips, anxiety crashing into me as I started to type before deleting it and sending a much shorter message.

If you do.

That was good. I was telling him that I wanted to see him still without being too forwards about it. That felt good. Or maybe it made me come off like I didn’t care. I read the message again. It did sound cold. Like I had only agreed to see him out of pity or boredom, not because I liked him. I didn’t want him to think that.

Not that I did like him. He was a friend, nothing more. Even that lie felt half-hearted, though.

I do if you do, he’d sent.

I dropped my head back and let out a frustrated sigh. Was he really going to make me say it? I didn’t want to. It felt scary, too vulnerable, and I wasn’t sure if I was able to do it. But I had to. I could either be coy and make him say it, or I could just… do it myself. I could be brave. I had been brave before; it wouldn’t be too hard to do it again.

I do, I typed quickly, hitting send before I could change my mind.

Immediately, I regretted it. What if I was wrong? Maybe he was texting me because he’d decided that he didn’t want to see me again or didn’t actually feel that way anymore? Or maybe he never had. Maybe it was a mistake in the first place, and he’d panicked.

I barely had time to spiral before my phone buzzed again.

Good because I miss you, he’d written.

I swallowed, my eyes darting up to the first message he’d sent me that evening. He’d said that he missed me then too, and I had just ignored it by accident. That made me feel bad, but a smile started to stretch over my face. The idea of Duncan missing me caused butterflies to take flight in my stomach and my heart to race. I missed him too. I hadn’t really thought about it too much, hadn’t let myself, but I did.

Me too, I typed back.

It wasn’t much, didn’t feel like enough, but it was the most I could say.

“Shouldn’t be more than a couple of days,” I heard Rodgers say faintly, and I reached out for the familiar dizziness, needing know what he was talking about.

“Does it normally take this long?” Scott asked, his words tinged with anxiety.

I stared at Rodgers, waiting for his answer.

“It depends, really. The tests are different every year, and your cohort was bigger than most, so it is taking longer than usual,” he told us with a slight shrug. “Nothing to worry about, though.”

I looked across at Scott. His expression made it clear that he was still worried.

“How do we find out our results?” I asked. “Do we get like a report, or does someone tell us?”

Rodgers hesitated, his expression conflicted.

“Both,” he said finally.

My heart felt like it had missed a beat.

“Who?”

Rodgers met my gaze.

“Usually,” he started slowly, “you’d be meeting with the person who brought you here. They championed your recruitment, after all, so it makes sense that they’re the one who delivers the news. Plus, you have a pre-existing relationship with them from your journey to the Academy. After this, it’ll be your head of house who leads all progress meetings.”

My eyebrows drew together at that. Did Rodgers mean that Ms Brice had championed my recruitment? And what did that even mean? I didn’t have a chance to ask, though. Scott got there first.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Someone had to support our recruitment? I thought we just passed tests to get here.”

Rodgers’ expression became cagy.

“In part,” he said.

Scott and I waited for Rodgers to continue speaking expectantly, but he wasn’t looking at us. He was examining the brace on his leg. He’d gotten a new one a couple of days ago, and it was taking some time to get used to.

“In part?” I repeated, trying to prompt him to tell us more.

He sighed heavily.

“Fine, you’ve both passed the tests, so you’re staying here anyway,” he muttered before raising his voice. “The results of all tests get sent through to a committee, generally made up of the tutors here, but that’s hundreds of kids. Thousands, maybe. They only look at the ones who hit all their criteria and begin narrowing it down from there. It’s a huge process. Takes years.”

“What’s the criteria?” Scott asked a second before I could.

Rodgers laughed.

“Even I don’t know the answer to that one,” he said with a shrug.

“What happens after that?” I asked. “Once they narrow it down?”

“The teachers comb over your files, narrowing it down even further before putting forwards the ones they think will be most successful here and their reasons why. Then comes the summit.”

It was clear from the way Rodgers said the word that it was a big deal.

“What’s the summit?”

“A huge meeting that happens once a year with the committee for every Academy across the country. They present the potential choices, vote on them anonymously, and, on the final day, they submit their choices to support,” Rodgers explained. “There’s another committee that compiles the votes and decides who will be assigned to whom, but it’s a secretive affair… More secretive than the rest of it.”

I could speak for a few seconds. Scott was silent too. The idea of someone, an entire committee, pouring over my test results and voting on whether or not I deserved to be at the Academy made me feel uncomfortable, but also… good. I’d been chosen. Chosen by Ms Brice and whoever else had voted for me.

After a few moments, my brain finally realised what Rodgers had said before.

“Wait,” I said, leaning forwards as shock crashed into me. “Did you say we’re staying here?”

Scott’s head snapped around to stare at me before looking back at Rodgers, who grimaced.

“What?” Scott whispered. “We get to stay?”

“Mmmm,” Rodgers deliberated. “I’m really not meant to answer this.”

“You already did though,” I said. “You said we’re both staying, didn’t you?”

Rodgers glanced at the classroom door, as if checking to make sure that no one was about to walk in before sighing heavily.

“Neither of you can breathe a word of this to anyone,” he said, sending us both a warning look. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Scott and I said at the same time.

Rodgers hesitated for a moment longer before shaking his head.

“You’re not meant to know this yet. Not until the meetings but… you. You’re both staying.”

Tears threatened my eyes immediately, and I lifted a hand to my mouth as hope wrapped around my heart. It almost hurt. I’d been worried, so worried, the entire time I had been at the Academy. It was too good, and it felt like it could all be ripped away from me in an instant, but hearing Rodgers say that we were staying felt so… unreal.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied immediately. “I’m not meant to know either, but because I’ve taken you both under my wing, I’m going to be sitting in on the meetings too. I found out yesterday.”

“But…” Scott started to say before shaking his head.

There was a dazed expression on his face, making it look like he’d been hit with something.

“It was meant to be in part because they think I might have a future in teaching,” Rodgers continued, “but now, maybe not so much because I can’t keep my mouth shut for five minutes.”

“We did it,” Scott muttered quietly.

Rodgers’ expression softened, and he smiled at us.

“Sorry,” he said. “I remember how much of a big deal it was for me too, when I found out I was staying. It made everything feel a bit more… certain. A bit safer. I didn’t quite believe it at first, but once it sunk in, it felt great.”

That was exactly how I felt. I wanted to stay at the Academy so much, and being told that I didn’t have to leave was… freeing.

Scott nodded, unable to speak.

“Is everyone staying?” I heard myself ask.

I wanted to ask about Katie, Abbie and Seth specifically, but it felt wrong to. It made me nervous. If he said that they weren’t and that I couldn’t tell them, I wasn’t sure that I’d be able to do it.

“I’m not sure,” Rodgers said.

I scanned his face, searching for any sign that he was lying or hiding the truth from us.

“You’re not?”

“No,” he replied. “They only told me about you two. The others will find out during their meetings.”

I glanced at Scott. He looked worried too, and I knew he was thinking about the same people I was. We’d become friends, the five of us. If someone didn’t get to stay, it wouldn’t feel right. I wanted to know, to be able to prepare myself, but more than that, I wanted to warn them.

“When will the meetings happen?” I asked.

There was another pause before Rodgers spoke.

“The end of the week.”

My phone buzzed, sending me hurtling back to reality as I walked across Tony’s. I glanced at my mom. She wasn’t facing me and hadn’t looked up. I could check my phone without her questioning it. I slowed, still moving by barely, as I read the text from Phoebe.

What was the name of that movie that we watched like two years ago? That really weird one that gave me nightmares for like a month? she’d written.

I snorted softly.

You need to give me more detail than that, I replied. I can’t even count the number of films that have given you nightmares.

Glancing up at my mom again, I made sure she hadn’t spotted me. She was still texting someone, I noticed. I could just about see her phone over her shoulder. The person had replied. The message was so long. It took up the entire screen.

That’s not fair! It doesn’t happen that often anymore! Phoebe complained. It was that one with the aliens and the monster and they came out of the tv or something? I don’t remember but I was trying to explain it to my cousin and she looked at me like I’ve lost my mind.

I stared at the message blankly. We’d watched so many films over the years, all Phoebe’s suggestions. Loads of them had aliens or monsters, and a few had things coming out of televisions, but I couldn’t think of anything that had all three.

I truly have no clue, I replied. Did you google it?

Yes! came Phoebe’s immediate response. I can’t find anything that sounds familiar, but I’ve added like five more things to our watchlist.

I grinned at my phone.

Awesome. I’ll have a think and let you know if I remember it?