Chapter 6: Conclusion

I spent all day Sunday studying, trying to pretend the previous day had been a dream so I could focus on algebra and history. I’d always felt non-committal towards math, but now ... it’s needed for science and science is important at the Academy. I needed to give it my best effort. All my school subjects had taken on renewed importance: my grades would help determine my admission to the Academy.

I felt better after school Monday—I was sure I’d had done well on the tests. During lunch I’d gotten permission to take a “college visitation day” on Tuesday. I had an honest excuse for missing school, though I admitted to myself that I would take advantage of the time in a few ways not covered by the excuse.

On the way home from school I picked up some styling gel from the drugstore. I brushed a little into my hair and arranged it the way Miranda had shown me. I looked in the mirror; I looked good!

Tuesday morning I was at the shopping mall the minute it opened. I went into the anchor department store, stopped by the hair salon, and looked through their flip-book of styles until I found one that most closely approximated the one Miranda had described. I looked in the mirror when the stylist had finished—it looked just the way I had imagined it! The stylist said it looked just right for me. I got care instructions to keep it looking that way.

Clothing next. The clerk in the teens section was, again, very helpful, eager for the chance to begin building a wardrobe almost from scratch—especially after he saw my platinum credit card. I bought several outfits—including one with a dark beige skirt and matching halter top, for Beth’s hanging, the length (just above the knee) and bland color chosen so as not to distract any attention from Beth’s no doubt more flashy costume. The outfit I wore leaving the store was a little more basic but chosen, with the clerk’s help, to emphasize my most attractive features while still looking appropriate for a visit to a prospective “college”: a denim skirt and a lacy white blouse with short puffy sleeves, a low neckline that went straight across just above my breasts, a lacy bosom that cupped my breasts individually but loosely, and a lower half that hugged my tummy tightly ... The clerk exclaimed how lucky I was to have a body the outfit worked on. I didn’t say anything.

Over to shoes next: high-polish boots, a fancy pair of high heels, and a pair of low-heeled sandals, held on by a web of straps. The clerk said it looked very sexy.

Finally to accessories, where I bought a purse and a belt to go with each outfit and a nice hat to go with the fanciest outfit.

There was a bookstore nearby in the mall. I went in and bought several fashion magazines.

I waited in line at the food court, to order a soft drink. When I reached the front and gave my order, the boy in line behind me, maybe a little older than me, stepped up and said, “And I’ll have a large Sip Fizz.”

I turned around to look at him, wondering how anyone could be so rude, as the clerk asked, puzzled, “Is this together?” I could see the wheels spinning: she’d noticed that we’d arrived separately.

The boy smiled. “Yeah. I’m paying.”

I suddenly realized what was going on, though nothing remotely like it had ever happened to me before. I examined the boy more closely. “I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

As the clerk handed us our drinks, the boy passed some money across and said, “I’ve been trying to decide that. I think I’ve seen you around. You go to the university, right?”

I smiled. “Mistaken identity. I’m at the high school. I graduate next month, though.”

He blinked, but smiled. “I guess I don’t know you, then. But we could fix that.”

My heart was fluttering. The sudden attention was wonderful, and he was kind of cute, but there was one thought foremost in my mind. “Look, before we start anything, I should tell you I’m not available for anything long-term. I’m going to go to the Hanging Academy in the fall. So you know what that means, right?”

He sighed, and smiled. “Okay, that’s useful to know. But you’d be free this Friday, right? We could go to a movie, and maybe go get a steak afterwards?”

I started to say yes, then hesitated. “I’d like that, except I’ve got this big thing coming this weekend. I’ll have to ... take a raincheck, if that’s okay.” I looked at him apologetically.

He smiled. “It is if the raincheck could be used the following week.”

I couldn’t help grinning. It was so stunning, not just being asked for a date for the first time in my life, but him being so persistent about it.

I hesitated for a second or two, then realized that it would be really useful to have some sexual experience before I started at the Academy—assuming things went that way. Miranda had said they would teach me a lot about it there, but I was willing to bet any amount that none of my classmates would be virgins. “Sure.” I checked my pockets, but I hadn’t brought a notepad. I turned to the clerk at the soft-drink counter. “Could you tear me a sheet off your order pad? And let me use your pencil a second?” I wrote down my phone number and signed it “Amy” underneath, and handed it to the boy, smiling. “I’m usually home after six.”

He grinned and tucked it into his wallet. “Great. I’ll call you soon, Amy. I’m Scott.” He gave a little wave as he turned away.

“Oh, thank you for the drink!” He looked back and held up both hands in a think-nothing-of-it gesture, and soon was lost in the crowd.

I sighed. It would be tricky, working on getting sexual experience without getting involved with anyone.

One useful thing occurred to me: There were local clubs kids went to, to hook up someone of the opposite sex, without expectation of commitment. And there were similar clubs for women only. I knew I needed some experience with women as well as men. Most of the Academy’s customers would be men, but there would be a few women, too. So many things to think about. I’d have to make another list.

My heart was pounding when I drove into the Academy parking lot. It was disappointing, but I knew I probably wouldn’t see any of the students today. I would only be in the open-to-the-public area, and would most likely not see anyone very important either. But first impressions are always key.

Finding the Admissions Office, I took a deep breath, waited until I felt somewhat calm, and went in. A woman behind a long counter looked up. “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to apply for admission.”

The woman took a more complete look at me, and my spirits soared when she smiled. She looked like she thought I belonged there!! Her next question almost took my breath away. “Would you like to speak to our director of admissions, Vonda Bennett?”

“Oh, yes, please, if I could.”

The woman picked up a phone. “I’ll see if she’s free.”

A few minutes later, I was in a chair in an office behind the counter, my head spinning, listening to Ms. Bennett saying, “It’s nice to meet you, Amy. I understand you’d like to join our entering class this fall.”

“Yes, very much,” I breathed.

Ms. Bennett laughed. “I think Sheila must have seen that same eager look on your face. I don’t usually meet like this with every applicant. Most of them do it by mail, in fact.”

I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I do like having a chance to meet the applicants if I can. You understand, this isn’t an interview right now. Dean Porter does those, and we can schedule a time for you later. This is just more of a get-acquainted session. Of course, one natural thing to ask you is whether you know what’s expected of students here. I mean, really know.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. I was a sub-assistant at a hanging last Saturday. And I’m doing another this Saturday.”

Ms. Bennett’s eyes opened wider. “Oh, my. That’s a rare amount of experience.” She looked to the ceiling, thinking. “Saturday. That must have been Miranda Warren. Next Saturday is Beth Downey.” She looked questioningly at me.

“Yes, ma’am. Beth is doing the Runaway Slave show, and I’m looking forward to seeing that. Oh, I have this ... tell me if you’re the right person to give this to.” I got out my wallet, extracted the form Miranda had given me, and handed it to Ms. Bennett.

She read it, then read it again more closely. “Miranda said some very nice things about you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ms. Bennett nodded. “I’ll be sure this gets in your admission file. Let me give you an application...” She reached into a drawer in her desk and pulled out a form. “ ... and we can set up an interview.” She began typing on a keyboard, then looked intently at the screen. “Could you come ... June 18, at 9:30 am? That’s a Wednesday.”