Chapter 1: Unexpected Plunge into the Poolside Scholarship Expedition

As I, Tiffany Tylor Escobar, marked my eighteenth birthday just days before Christmas, I found myself engulfed in a whirlwind of emotions alongside my closest friend, Amber. Seated in my room, I confronted a pile of rejection letters from universities, shattering my collegiate aspirations. Uncertainty gripped me—should I pursue higher education at a university or follow Amber’s path and enlist in the Armed Forces or another branch?

A unique opportunity emerged through my guidance counselor: the chance to attend Harrison University via the Bound Scholarship, colloquially known as the Human Poolside Lounge Chairs Scholarship. Despite my less-than-impressive academic track record, the prospect of this scholarship ignited a flame of ambition within me to pursue higher education.

With a mixture of apprehension and determination, I embarked on a journey into the depths of the poolside realm. The Bound Scholarship offered a gateway to Harrison University, albeit not through the traditional academic route; nevertheless, it promised an opportunity for those ready to seize it.

I was leaving the counselor’s office, my mind buzzed with possibilities. The allure of the university experience beckoned, yet so did the practicality of joining the Armed Forces like Amber or attending a community college first. However, there was something about the Poolside Scholarship that piqued my interest, a detail my counselor hadn’t elaborated on. She simply instructed me to set up an account to arrange a tour with the university, accompanied by a brochure featuring whimsical illustrations of a poolside lounge chair atop a mysterious box.

As I settled into the passenger seat of Amber’s car for the ride home, I viewed this as an opportunity to defy expectations and carve my path. While weighing my options, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this scholarship held the key to unlocking my future. Despite the doubts and uncertainties, I pursued it with unwavering determination. Little did I know, this unexpected journey would lead me to discoveries beyond my wildest imagination.

Upon arriving home, I confronted my mother about the brochure the counselor had given me, and I could practically see the color drain from her face. It became evident that she knew more about the scholarship than I did, which was next to nothing. Her initial response was to inquire if I had any knowledge of the requirements for the scholarship, to which I confessed my ignorance, only knowing that it allowed me to attend the university without meeting its minimum entry standards.

My mother then placed the brochure on the table and took a seat, probing whether I was still considering the military, a trade school, or a community college route. She proceeded to share what she knew about the poolside lounge chairs that had appeared at several universities, country clubs, and affluent groups. What made it all the more intriguing was its departure from conventional academic criteria, instead beckoning candidates to embrace an unconventional commitment—immersing oneself within the confines of the lounge chairs for a designated period.

Yet, despite its mysterious nature, the allure of this scholarship was undeniable. Merely mentioning its existence sparked curiosity among those who heard of it. Growing up in Denver’s suburbs, I had heard tales of these legendary poolside chairs that had become the stuff of nationwide community lore. Originating from a prestigious New England institution, their debut had captured imaginations. However, it was the notion of becoming one with these chairs, shrouded in secrecy, that truly fascinated me. When my mother told me she would support my decision if I chose that option, I didn’t immediately connect it to the scholarship.

The prospect of this scholarship, with its enigmatic nature and unconventional demands, both intrigued and unsettled me. Yet, drawn to the unconventional and the unknown, I felt an irresistible pull, sensing that it could alter my trajectory in ways beyond comprehension. And so, with a blend of apprehension and anticipation, I embarked on what would unfold as the most unforeseen journey of my life.

Seated at my laptop, nestled on my bed, I delved into online searches that yielded little substantial information, only leading me to cryptic websites and censored images of lounge chairs with peculiar, coffin-like structures beneath them. Despite my best efforts to avoid clicking on any blocked adult sites, one glance at a distorted face peeking out from underneath only fueled my curiosity further. Undeterred, I held onto the hope that the link and registration for the university tour would provide some much-needed clarity come Saturday.

Harrison University, situated on the opposite side of the Denver metro from my home, awaited my exploration. My scheduled tour was set for ten in the morning, necessitating my departure no later than eight. As I prepared for this journey into the unknown, anticipation mingled with apprehension, and I couldn’t help but wonder what revelations awaited me beyond the enigmatic veil of the Poolside Scholarship.

As we gathered around Rita Angus in the secluded warehouse, anticipation crackled in the air, mingling with a hint of apprehension. The chairs, with their enigmatic concealed compartments, loomed before us like silent sentinels guarding some mysterious secret. Rita’s poised demeanor only added to the aura of intrigue as she prepared to unveil the truth behind the Poolside Scholarship.

As she revealed the intricacies of the chairs, a hush fell over our small group, punctuated only by the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead. My gaze fixed upon one of the coffin-like structures I had glimpsed online, and a shiver ran down my spine as I approached it. Peering inside, I was met with a sight that both fascinated and unsettled me—a complex body harness adorned with straps and backrests, designed to accommodate the occupant in a snug embrace.

Rita’s explanation hit me like a thunderbolt, shaking the foundation of my understanding. The scholarship, she revealed, demanded a commitment far beyond the ordinary—a commitment to spend 14 hours a week cocooned within these chairs, merging one’s existence with the poolside ambiance. The notion of becoming part of the furniture, of being enveloped in this strange cocoon, sent a chill down my spine.

And then came the revelation that sent shockwaves through the room—a series of unsettling face openings in the lids of the boxes, intended to grant access to poolside assistants and, disconcertingly, to allow users of the lounge chairs to enjoy the presence of those bound within, positioned strategically at their crotch areas.

Confusion reigned supreme as I grappled with the implications of Rita’s words. Yet, amidst the tumult of emotions, a steely resolve began to take shape within me. I was determined to unravel the mysteries of this scholarship, to delve deeper into its enigmatic depths and unearth the truth, no matter how bizarre or unsettling it may be. This was just the beginning of a journey that promised to challenge everything I thought I knew about academia, about myself, and the world around me.

As an attractive, naked group of individuals entered the scene, my initial determination wavered, replaced by a mix of shock and curiosity. They effortlessly positioned themselves within the chairs, accompanied by others adorned with various color collars, armbands, and ankle bands, each marked with a number. My disbelief reached its peak as they were tightly bound and sealed, the tension in the air becoming palpable with each click of the chambers locking shut.

The intensity of the moment heightened as I observed the unequal treatment between genders—while all of the males were securely sealed within their chambers, the females remained unsealed, a chilling reminder of the unequal precautions in place. It blurred the boundaries between body and chair, leaving no room for escape and casting a shadow of unease over the proceedings.

As the scene unfolded before me, a sense of foreboding settled in my stomach. The revelation of the heat-sensitive tape added another layer of complexity to the situation, hinting at the potential for our lives to be deemed expendable in emergencies. It left me grappling with a myriad of unanswered questions, each more unsettling than the last, as the true nature of the Poolside Scholarship began to unravel before my eyes.

Rita proceeded to elucidate the intricate details of the scholarship requirements for each participant, both those already sealed within the chambers and those awaiting additional sealant. With a grave tone, she emphasized that all participants were enrolled under the same no-expense scholarship, contingent upon meeting the demanding criteria of spending at least fourteen hours bound within the crates beneath the lounge chairs. The weight of this revelation hung heavy in the air, laden with a mixture of danger and intrigue that sent a shiver down my spine.

As the group absorbed this information, a brave redhead among us voiced a question that had been lingering in the back of our minds—what was the purpose of the heat-sensitive tape? Anticipation for a straightforward answer quickly gave way to a chilling reality as Rita explained the dire consequences that awaited if the tape were to crystallize. It would become unyielding, potentially trapping the occupant within the chamber and leading to a tragic outcome.

Rita’s words echoed in my mind long after she had finished speaking, leaving behind a lingering sense of disquiet that cast a shadow over the already tense atmosphere of the warehouse. The true nature of the scholarship had been laid bare before us, revealing a world fraught with peril and uncertainty, where every moment spent bound within those crates carried the weight of potential tragedy.