The First Day (2)

This place is surreal enough that I'm checking for anomalies before the door even hits me on the ass.

The school building isn't central to the entrance like you'd expect; instead, it’s tucked off in the left corner relative to my current position. A slightly longer building, which I assume to be the dorms, is pushed up against the right wall. There's no space left on either side of the structure; it's all a bit unsightly.

It’s as if the walls weren't put up to surround a planned enclosure, but were constructed to most efficiently capture the two buildings necessary. In the centre of the compound is a small structure being strangled by flowers growing around it like some sort of deranged vertical garden. Behind it in the corner not occupied by the other buildings, is a basketball court or at least half of one. There are other smaller buildings dotted around the place but I've taken in all I need to for now.

I should go find the principal. The guard told me that his office was on the second floor.

Entering the school, I’m struck by an alarming silence. There are about as many people inside the building as there were outside the building. No one to greet me at the entrance, no one to greet me as I scale the stairs. No one to even so much as side-eye me as I make my way to the principal's office. How is this place so barren?

...Why is this place so barren?

I find myself waiting outside the door to the office; hand hanging, ready to knock. Thoroughly unsure as to whether proceeding is a good idea but knowing I don't have much of a choice. My curiosity tries to breach through these conflicting feelings, creating a paralyzing concoction of thoughts.

After standing outside like an idiot for a couple of minutes I finally knock.

"Come in," answers a voice.

.............

A distinctly female voice.

If I was hesitant before I don't know what I am now.

That was a woman's voice.

How is that possible? Why is there a woman here?

"Don't be so shy.”

I hadn't even noticed that the door is now open. Standing in front of me is a woman, probably in her late twenties, and gorgeous…

Don't take my word for it though, this is my first time seeing an adult female. I might be a horrible judge of age, and as for the beauty, maybe I just have low standards. At the same time, though, I feel like she blows most standards clean out of the water. She wears a business suit, which is contrasted sharply by her dyed hair. Not that it doesn't suit her, mind you, it's all brought together by the thin glasses that frame her face. She's only about an inch shorter than me, and she's not wearing heels, so she's quite tall.

Grabbing me by the wrist she pulls me inside the room and leads me to a couch at the side. She sits herself down in a chair behind an opposing desk. I may come to resent this loss of initiative on my part later, but for now, I’m too stunned to even think about it.

"So. You're Abel."

"Yeah."

"First, allow me to welcome you to our school. We don't really have a name, and since the board doesn't like acknowledging our existence unless they need us, we don’t have a number either."

"...Thanks."

"Now, let's talk about you."

"You didn't talk about yourself."

"Let's talk about you."

No escaping this, it seems.

"What about me?"

"About your future. It seems this is last chance saloon. Either you stick it out here, or we'll have to send you to the school for real delinquents."

While I probably don't know her well enough to be making this judgement, she doesn't appear to be joking. The question running through my mind is, given that my being here is a ‘favour’, will she try and get me kicked out of this place? I really hope not; I can only refrain from my natural state of opposition for so long.

"I'll never do anything that'll let you send me there."

"You don't have to do anything. Know what societies do to unwanted troublemakers, Abel? They sweep them under the rug by any means necessary. They don't need people like you or me upsetting the status quo. So far, you've just been lucky you were born into one that believes in second chances."

“Forget about me, what are you doing to disturb the peace?"

"Why don't you ask me the question you've been wanting to ever since you first saw me?"

So that's information she's willing to disclose…

Of course, the question I want to ask her the most is ‘how are you here?’

City 48's two halves are split by gender, and crossing into the other half for any reason is punishable by death. Granted, it’s a punishment I’ve never seen carried out; the common zone between the two areas is too well guarded for people to ever try crossing, and you can't just go the long way round in a walled city. All this is why she’s the first woman I’ve seen in person, and certainly no ordinary principal.

"Alright then, how is it possible that a woman is living in the male zone of the city?"

"Because this society doesn't consider me a woman."

Damn, I didn't even think of that, but it makes sense. I mean, it raises a whole bunch of other questions, but it's legitimately more plausible than an actual woman being here.

"Why not?"

"Because a little piece of paper printed 30 years ago says I'm not. To this society, the one I was born into, my very existence upsets the status quo."

She's 30, damn. My guess wasn’t that far off.

"So... you're a guy?"

"That's a very blunt way of asking, but yes, according to the state, I am a man. I wouldn't be so direct when asking your classmates about it though, you won't be very popular."

"Is everyone here… I don’t know how to put it exactly..."

"Yes. Everyone else here is… like me, in some respect.”

She accompanies the phrase with a big sigh and pauses for a moment before looking me right in the eyes.

“I founded this place to protect people like me, Abel. I'm doing you a huge favour by even letting a man on campus, let alone humouring the idea of taking you on as a student."

"Not that I amn't grateful, but I'm not sure I want to be a student here."

When I'm formulating sentences containing ‘amn't’, can I really refuse any offers of education?

"Well, you don't exactly have a choice."

"Yeah yeah, I know that. Just give me the rundown of what you expect out of me as a student and talk to me again when I've failed to meet those expectations."

I'm trying to push some buttons, but it doesn't seem to be working. This bitch is still smiling. Is thinking they're a bitch right? A bastard maybe? I need a gender-neutral insult for my inner monologue.

"Our ideas of expectations are a little bit different than most schools. We won't come looking for you if you don't show up to class, we won't check your room to see what you're hiding and we won't impose a curfew on you."

"Do you expect anything from me at all?"

"Just one thing. The reason we're willing to have you here is because there are some things that our students can't do that you can, and I expect you to help them out. If you can make their lives easier, then you can do just about whatever you want."

"Sounds like a pretty sweet deal, where's the catch?"

"Those are only my personal expectations. The board has their own."

Ah yes, the elusive board.

The administrators of City 48. Tasked with matching students from either side of the city to produce the best pairings, they'll do just about anything they can to further that agenda. They’re a strangely mysterious organization, to the point that I can’t say how many people are on the board, assuming there’s more than one, and assuming the whole thing isn’t an algorithm. Regardless, someone or something seems to have a vested interest in getting me to go on the dates they've been organizing for me for the last two years, the ones I’ve spent that time avoiding. They've been steadily upping the ante with each new school I'm sent to.

"They insist that you engage in your weekend activities if you want to avoid being sent to the real disciplinary school."

"I figure I'm ending up there eventually anyway. Compromising who I am isn't worth the extension on the false state of freedom it'll buy me."

"I know it's a redundant question given who I'm dealing with but you should give it some real thought this time. I don't think they're bluffing."

"It’s not that they’ve been bluffing, they’ve been blinking."

"Well, let's table this until next weekend. Burn that bridge when you come to it and all that. Now let's move on to the boring stuff..."

The boring stuff consists of the usual: her name (Ms. Lloyd), class schedules, course materials, codes of conduct and the like. Standard ‘here's what you're supposed to do’ stuff, although this time the delivery is very lax. I get the feeling that the crossdresser might not have a huge fondness for rules herself. There is one thing of note though, in line with the apparent seriousness of their current attempt to push me toward my partner, the board has provided me with a portfolio on her.

"They want you to read this before your date."

"..."

"I know, I know.... just take it for now. I'm not going to make you open it."

I did end up taking it to appease her. Not my usual MO but since she wasn't trying to make me do much, I didn't feel the compulsive need to oppose her.

***

We didn't exactly arrive early so by the time we're done discussing the minutia it's late enough. Lloyd shows me straight to my room, which has already been stocked with my meagre excuse for belongings.

"So what do I do now?"

"You can do whatever you want, you basically have the run of the place now."

"Not like I ever haven't."

"Have you ever even tried to fit in?"

"Not in a long time."

Lloyd pauses as if she’s about to say something, but seems to decide against it.

"I'll leave you to it then."

She closes the door behind her, sealing in the air that will no doubt feel stagnant by tomorrow. It's not a case where the room isn't well ventilated, (the slight draft I feel confirms that incompetence isn't the reason) it's more that this room became stale the moment it became mine. Different location, sure, but it will be the exact same room as the last soon enough; just a place to retreat to when provocation fails.

When there's nothing else left to do, no one else left to rebel against for a day, I can always return to my room and rebel through non-compliance. A crude tactic, but an effective one in the context. Maybe it wouldn't be fair to call it entirely stale anymore though, my room has been infiltrated by a piece of the institution. The folder which I had placed on my desk earlier is stirring up a storm of negativity within me, disrupting the familiar calm of my room just a little bit.

"Who the fuck are you to me anyway?"

I pick up the folder. Pretty meaty piece of work here, wonder how thick the one on me is? There's no point in keeping it around, even if Lloyd isn't going to check that I have it. My opposition to this thing is ideological after all. Not vain rebellion but rebellion in vain.

I crack open the window with my free hand and chuck the folder out into the yard.