93
According to my slab, the day is mine to spend as I want, and I’m not entirely sure what to do with it, since I haven’t really taken a day off since I arrived.
In my effort to advance, my weekends were devoted entirely to study. Which means I missed out on movie nights where Arthur screens new releases well before they’re open to the public; beach days where everyone heads to the indoor pool that features an actual sandbar and waves you can surf; the game room that supposedly offers all kinds of video games and VR experiences that are generations ahead of what’s sold in stores; and even spa time where, according to the treatment menu on my slab, I can book a facial, a massage, or even time in the isolation tank or the cryotherapy booth.
Deciding on a visit to the spa, I let myself into my room, where the first thing I notice is the stack of blue sweatshirts placed on a nearby table. And before I realize what’s happening, I’ve dropped to my knees as a sudden rush of tears spills down my cheeks.
Normally, I’d have wiped them away well before they could track past my nose. But today, I just let them fall, splashing onto the T-shirt Braxton lent me, as I allow myself to really lean into this victory.
This is so much bigger than no longer eating alone. I mean, while it’ll be nice to finally put that behind me, the real reason I’m crying is because it’s been so long since I dared myself to succeed, there was a part of me that feared I wasn’t up to the task—that winning didn’t happen to people like me.
With a shaky hand, I reach for the ivory-colored envelope that’s positioned precisely in the center of the stack, slide a finger under the wax seal, and retrieve the note left inside.
There, written in black ink, on Arthur’s personal stationery, I read:
Congratulations.
-A.B.
I run a finger over the message as fresh tears roll down my cheeks. Only this time, I’m quick to wipe them away, thankful that I’m here on my own—that no one will ever know just how much this all means to me.
Setting the note aside, I pluck a sweatshirt from the pile, tug it on over my T-shirt, then I get to my feet and head for the nearest mirror.
Before me, I see a girl made Blue, with a beautiful talisman hanging from her neck, a shiny gold ring on her finger, and the flush of a new boyfriend still fresh on her cheeks.
And though my hair is still brown, my eyes still green, and I’m still barely so much as five foot three without heels, it feels like I’m looking at a completely different person from the one I once knew.
The lessons in diction, comportment, dance, and others have left their mark. And though the changes they’ve brought are undoubtedly for the better, making me much more confident and poised than ever, I can’t help but wonder what happens now. I guess I’ve spent so much focus on becoming a Blue, I never stopped to think of anything more.
I mean, is this it? Do I stay locked up in this gilded cage, Tripping and stealing at Arthur’s behest, until someone fresher and newer comes along and I’m sidelined to one of the supporting staff jobs? Will Ieverbe able to leave this place?
Or is Gray Wolf Island destined to become not just my present but also my future?
Arthur’s Artful Dodgers. The words trail softly from my lips to the luxurious room beyond—the collection of fine furnishings, the gleaming crystal chandelier, the handwoven rugs, to walls that are surprisingly bare.
Am I expected to steal my own art? Is that how Braxton and Elodie grew their impressive collections?
My gaze finds its way back to my reflection, where it chooses to linger.
As long as I stay here, Arthur will take care of my mom. And when Mason receives the diamond swan hairclip, I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing I did what I could to take care of him, too. If this is the price to help the people I love, then I’m willing to pay it. Despite Braxton’s warnings, I won’t let Gray Wolf change me for the worse.
I pull the sweatshirt back over my head, fold it neatly, and return it to the pile. Then I head into my closet in search of a swimsuit, cover-up, and some flip-flops. Thinking a little time at the spa, followed by a visit to the beach, might do me some good.
I guess because my days here are so tightly scheduled, I haven’t really taken time to search through every additional shelf and drawer beyond the ones I’ve needed most. After finding a beautiful beaded tunic I plan to use as a cover-up, I’m still searching for a bikini to wear to the wave pool when I open the middle drawer in the island that sits at the center of my closet, only to watch as it flies off its tracks and sends a pile of papers flittering like butterfly wings to the floor.
I gaze at the mess of notes at my feet. Considering where they were stashed, clearly whoever put them there intended for them to stay hidden, which only makes me even more curious.
I kneel on the soft Persian rug and start to sift through them. Then, realizing they’re dated, I go about arranging them in order, before I spread them out before me.
2.8- What is this place? Forced to eat alone—the freaking fourth dimensional road!? Someone Get Me the Hell Out of Here!
2.12- Today’s inspirational quote: No Mud, No Lotus.
Are they kidding me with this shit?
2.19- Goal: Make Blue whatever it takes. I can’t stand another day of eating alone.
3.15- I survived the hazing. What the hell is wrong with these people? Why do they just go along with whatever Elodie says? Don’t they realize the only power she has is the power they give her?And why the hell did I choose to make the same choice again?Okay, that last part is bullshit. I know exactly why I did it—because what waits for me off island is way worse than what waits for me here.