The Cure

The large letters, clearly painted on the school’s main building, declared:

“Boundville High School”

The enticing sign inviting people to enter, met only the longing faces of people who were doing it out of need or force. The girl barely managed to look around due to the crowd, but the picture that emerged was far from impressive. The school yard was heavily littered and damaged in some parts – piles of fast-food packaging lay at the feet of broken benches that had not even survived the beginning of the school year. The most remarkable: a stone monument was erected in the center of the courtyard. The stone man with a monocle leaned on his cane and, judging by his posture, seemed to be leading someone along. Meanwhile, Sola blended into the moving stream of people, having already spotted where to leave the bicycle she had been given. She handled it with a care that was unusual for her, as she intended to use it every day. So she securely locked it to a designated rack located near the security post. After casting one last glance at the statue, the pile of junk at its feet, and the guard, who resembled a walking dead, she went into the building.

Inside this school, it was exactly as she had expected. Had expected the worst.

As she walked down the long corridor, the girl came to several conclusions about how things worked here and the prevailing hierarchy.

She was prompted to do so by an incident that had happened a few seconds earlier. A big guy had pushed another boy so hard that he appeared right in front of her and crashed into a school locker.

“Hey, Stupid.” – He quipped before rejoining his like-minded companions. The whole group immediately erupted into shrill laughter, sounding like the clucking of hens in a chicken coop. The girl genuinely wondered how these people had even managed to live long enough to reach the same age as her.

As Sola walked past, she realized one crucial thing. There was, most likely, no such balancing line in the system here – the one she wanted to stick to all year and simply go with the flow. And it seemed she would have to be either the one who gets beaten or the one who does the beating.

Even in a crowd of people, it was possible to distinguish separate groups, differing from one another in speech, style, and manners. Some, particularly conceited ones, stood out with their mocking, unsolicited comments toward others.

Sola had no desire to receive a warm welcome from such people. Therefore, she pushed her way between strangers’ backs as intensely as possible, suffering from the stale smell of sweat and the pungent trail of cologne.

When she thought it would never end, the bell rang. For the first time, the sound was as good as her music on her headphones.

The crowd split into groups and headed to their respective classrooms. One blink, and Sola left alone in a corridor, whose end she couldn’t see, much like she couldn’t see what to do next.

Brushing aside the strands that had stuck together, she was relieved that the ordeal was over, although she understood it would soon begin again.

For a while, she simply wandered around the building, looking at the school’s awards displayed in glass cases, the certificates on the walls, and the strange stains on the walls, whose origins she would rather not know.

Most of the school's certificates from various competitions were awarded to a one person, Victoria Mason.

“What are you doing here?”

A high-pitched, mouse-like squeak shrieked through the room and echoed off the empty walls. An elderly woman appeared before the girl, with a hump taller than the she herself. Instead of lips, she had a stretched-out strip of displeasure, covered in bright lipstick and looking ridiculous on the woman’s earthy-toned skin.

Sola didn't notice her approach.

“I’m new.”

“Especially so! You should already be sitting in the headmaster’s office, young lady.” — She roughly clasped her trembling fingers around the girl’s forearm, digging the tips of her nails into the soft skin. The girl gripped the straps of her backpack tighter, enduring the throbbing pain from the tenacious grasp.

The rude woman, whose mannerisms resembled those of a goblin, marched forward, pulling the girl along behind her.

“Outrageous, what a sight. And where do you all come from? Well? Why are you silent? What grade are you in?”

“I’m sixteen years old.”

The crooked head turned toward her, and it did not look good.

"I asked about your grade, not your age.”

The place where Sola had formally studied had no concept of “high school.” There, she was in the fourth year of middle school, of which there were five years in total. So the girl hesitated when a pair of small eyes stared at her as though she had transferred not from another country, but from another planet. Only then did it occur to her that she should have looked into the local school system beforehand.

“Dear Good. She doesn’t even know the language.”

Sola had an idea what prejudices had led her to that conclusion, but she did not say a word aloud. The woman led her farther down the hallway, making no effort to hide her displeasure at having to do so. When they reached a set of double doors made of dark oak, the woman licked her finger and straightened her skirt.

She barged inside without knocking, dragging Sola in behind her as though the girl had committed a grave crime and was being led to the scaffold.

A luxurious office opened up before her, filled with light and countless shelves lined with colorful, overstuffed folders. Overall, the owner of such lavish quarters clearly had both taste and a meticulous sense of order – every object was positioned with such painstaking precision and symmetry that it looked almost unnatural. The walls were finished in two sections: the lower half with wooden paneling and the upper half with emerald-green fabric, while the rest of the room followed the same color scheme. Leather armchairs and a burnt umber writing desk occupied most of the space. It took only one glance at the state-of-the-art computer to understand where the money collected at parents’ meetings had gone.

“Actually, Mrs. Thorn, I'm busy," muttered a man in a jacket with shoulder pads, who hunched over papers at a desk.

Without even looking up, he knew who had entered and, unwilling to get drawn into an argument, politely dismissed her. But the woman refused to back down. Grabbing Sola by the scruff of her collar, she shoved her forward.

“Just look at this. This student is wandering around during class. Nonsense. Simply unacceptable audacity.”

The principal reluctantly lifted his weary gaze, first to Mrs. Thorn, then to the girl. He regarded her with detached indifference before realizing he had never seen her here before. Only then did he deign to set down the pen in his hand and show a hint of interest.

“Who are you?”

“I’m new. Or something like that.”

“Tell me your full name.”

A thick folder containing the students’ records landed on the cluttered desk, sending the rest of the paperwork scattering in every direction.

“Sol… Araceli De Angelis.”

The director, who had started flipping through the folder, stopped when he heard her name.

“I understand. Mrs. Thorn, please leave us alone."

Behind the girl came the sound of an uneven sigh, followed by the doors shutting. The man gestured with his hand, inviting her to take the seat opposite him. Fresh stacks of documents soon appeared before his nose, piling up until they almost hid the grown man from view.

Sola stepped forward and lowered herself into the cushioned chair, waiting for further instructions or at least a few words. But neither came, and the room sank into a silence, broken only by the rustle of papers and the occasional cough.

By that point, her wandering gaze had already taken in every detail of the room, yet nothing had struck her as particularly noteworthy. It finally settled on a framed photograph resting on the cabinet opposite her. In it, she recognized the principal sitting across from her – but in an entirely different light: wearing a pink knitted sweater with the words “Best Dad Ever”

The sudden sound of a sneeze made her jump in her seat, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Bless you.”

“…Oh, yeah. You.”

He pushed one of the stacks aside, giving himself a better view of the new student. Adjusting his slipped glasses, the principal of Boundville High School pulled one of the files closer.

“You have been enrolled in the eleventh grade. Your personal class schedule is on your left. Please take it and keep it with you. If you lose it, you can ask Mrs. Thorn for another copy.”

Sola nodded, trying hard to keep everything in her head for more than five minutes.

“You can pick up your textbooks from the library. It’s located in the east side. Feel free to take only the ones you’ll need today and come back for the rest later, so you don’t have to carry the extra weight.”

He was interrupted by an insistent knock at the door, accompanied by the familiar click of heels on the other side.

“Not now.”

“Sir, Mayor Mason would like to see you.”

The principal sprang to his feet, instantly shedding the persona of a businesslike man. With newfound urgency, he straightened his stiffly starched collar and brushed at the wrinkles in his trousers.

“My apologies, but I have to leave you at once. Miss De Angelis, if there’s anything else you need to know, please direct all your questions to Mrs. Thorn.”

Without waiting for a reply, he slipped out of his own office.

The next step was to find the classroom listed on her schedule. The search itself brought her less pleasure than the process – the walk through the empty school while classes were in session felt strangely enticing. Sola even considered spending the rest of the day like that, aimlessly wandering through the hidden corners of the campus.

But she had never seen her grandmother truly furious, and she had no desire to experience it anytime soon. Besides, their agreement required her to completely avoid breaking any rules for the time being, something Sola was perfectly capable of doing if she wanted to. It's a pity that trouble always seems to stick to her.

None of that mattered at the moment, though, because she was standing in front of the English classroom, where Sue Peters’ lesson had started a couple of minutes earlier.

Going inside was absolutely necessary. Crushing exhaustion and the chance to sink into a seat at the back of the classroom urged her forward, while her favorite temptation, to give in to idleness and skip the lesson altogether, pulled her back. But then a certain image flashed before her eyes: Gabriella striking not the pot with her ladle, but the girl’s head instead.

And at last, Sola made herself walk in.

The door creaked open, quieting the voices inside.

At first, only a couple of lazy glances turned toward her. Then, when Miss Peters herself paused, everyone else looked as well.

“Hello? Would you like to join our discussion?” the teacher asked in exactly the same tone one would use to say, Who are you?

Sola stood in the doorway, trying not to look at the people seated across from her.

“To be honest, not really. But I don’t have much of a choice. I’m new.”

If anyone in the back rows had still been chatting, the mention of the “new girl” was enough to make them stop and turn around. She remembered her grandmother’s words – that everyone here always had something to gossip about.

“Oh, wonderful. And of course no one bothered to tell me.” The teacher shook her head in annoyance and began looking for an empty seat.

“Let’s just hope I won’t have to steal a desk from our one-eyed Boo again. Last time, I was terrified to show up at the staff meeting afterward. I was even afraid to go home. It was awful.”

Sue Peters looked too young. If she hadn't been standing in the middle of the room talking lively a minute ago, Sola wouldn't have recognized her as a teacher. The woman with pale skin and dark hair, loosely gathered into a messy bun, was wearing a cardigan despite the fact that it was still summer.

“There, have a seat.” She gestured somewhere farther into the room, directing the girl to the desk beside a very tall young man.

“Now then, we’ve spent enough time talking about nonsense. Let’s get back to classical literature.”

Sola took her seat and realized she still couldn’t tear herself away from several persistent stares that seemed fully intent on boring holes through her.

The rest of the class was thoroughly engaged in the lesson, constantly raising their hands or blurting out answers from their seats – though Miss Peters quickly put a stop to the latter. Sola, meanwhile, practically melted into her chair, not ready to answer questions or, frankly, even be there at all.

“Let’s start with one of the truly compelling novels: Tess of the d’Urbervilles.”

Several students immediately signaled that they were ready to answer. The atmosphere in this class was completely different from the others, and the students were really eager to answer.

“Yes?”

“It’s a book about—”

“Stop right there. Let’s first share our personal impressions of the novel, and only then discuss the plot.” She paused before adding more pointedly, “Or perhaps something else. Yes, Terence?”

One of the boys in the back, who had clearly not been paying attention, fell silent after the teacher’s remark and buried himself in the notebook lying open on his desk.

One of the girls raised her hand.

“I think this book is about men’s prejudice toward women and the double standards of that era. Tess is condemned by society for something she didn’t do. Well, I believe the novel also reflects ideas about women’s rights that are still relevant today. I think the injustice Tess suffers is undeserved, and she should never have had to pay for what others did.”

The teacher’s approving nod brightened the girl’s face. Sue Peters leaned against her desk, carefully reflecting on what had been said, as though she were taking part in an equal conversation rather than simply leading the class.

“You have correctly interpreted certain aspects. Tess's tragedy and her deep connection with nature are reflected in the symbolism left by the author, which..."

Muted chuckles drifted from the part of the room the teacher was trying very hard not to look at – the usual troublemakers. But she couldn’t ignore the distracting noise, so Peters had to call one of the boys out again.

“So, it seems our adorable little couple, Shawnee and Terence, has decided to have a date right in the middle of my class. I’m flattered. Since we’re putting on Romeo and Juliet soon, perhaps you’d like to audition for the lead roles?”

This time the whole class burst into laughter, whether at the teacher’s open mockery or at the deep blush spreading across one of the boys’ faces. The other, however, seemed completely unfazed. If anything, he looked amused.

“Thanks, but I don’t have time for that sort of stuff. I’m a busy man.”

“Oh? A busy man? And what exactly keeps you so occupied, if I may ask?”

“Trying to win the attention of a beautiful woman who’s older than me.” – He shot the teacher a brazen wink.– “Working on myself, of course. And naturally, I read all your books.”

The boy flashed a cocky grin, baring his canine teeth as he sprawled across his desk as though it were his own bed.

“I would like to ask you to philosophize on the topic of our lesson today. Share your opinion about the book with us. In your opinion, was Tess innocent? And who was her true love? If you are such a romantic.”

The student fell silent, then turned to the other boy sitting to Sola’s left. She also turned slightly in the same direction, trying not to make eye contact with him.

Throughout the lesson, he had been restless and looked unwell. Not once had he looked at either the teacher or the new girl, keeping his head lowered beneath the hood of his sweatshirt. One of his legs bounced constantly, and his trembling fingers scratched at each other.

“Who did she love, Ace?”

Ace… apparently that was the name of the person the question had been directed at. Sola didn’t understand its meaning, but judging by everyone else’s reaction, others certainly did.

Had the class’s attention not suddenly shifted to him, Sola might never have noticed the boy’s condition. His pale face was slick with sweat, making him look as though he were on the verge of fainting.

“What is wrong with you? Shawnee, one more word and you’re out of classroom. And none of your friends will be able to help you.”

Ace grabbed his bag and ran out of the classroom, leaving Miss Peters completely confused.

“Mister Burns, what are you…”

The room suddenly resembled a marketplace, where everyone was discussing what had just happened. Only fragments of the heated whispers reached Sola's ears:

“He’s on drugs…”

“….. It's all because of her”

“….where is…”

No matter how helpless the teacher seemed in her attempts to calm them down, she couldn’t manage it, not even with the most time-tested methods. She couldn’t shout over them, couldn’t settle them with persuasive pleas or a loud smack of a book’s hard cover. Sola thought that her method of teaching “as one of the children” wasn’t particularly effective in a critical moment. But the unstoppable gossip had to die down anyway, because the classroom door swung open.

All eyes fixed on the man who entered – a stout figure with sunken eyes, dressed in a brown tuxedo and carrying a stack of papers in the crook of his arm.

“What is this circus? Good morning.” He spoke with a distinct French accent and resembled one of the members of the teaching staff, or perhaps someone above them. The importance of his presence was emphasized by the students’ behavior, as though they’d all taken a mouthful of water. Sola noticed the badge on the man’s chest: it depicted a snake coiled into a ring, biting its own tail.

“Pardon, Miss Peters. I have to make an announcement.”

He sighed heavily before starting. He sounded as if the words were causing him physical pain. The man picked up one of the sheets of paper that was on top of the stack. This is another piece of news about the missing person.

A couple of startled gasps passed through the classroom, but they did not grow into the discussions that had filled it before.

“On the night of August 14, your classmate, Ethan Rivers, was seen leaving his house. He was never seen again."

The students who had been disrupting the lesson exchanged meaningful glances among themselves. Sola had no idea who Ethan was, or even who the people surrounding her were. But she understood one thing – everyone was hiding something from the teachers.

But since it doesn't concern her, it doesn't seem important.

“I would strongly encourage you to participate in volunteer activities after class. Come over here, take these posters with you, and place them all over the town." – He pointed to what he was talking about.

“If you have any information about this, please contact the local police immediately or inform your teachers.”

Overwhelmed with sympathy and burdened by the knowledge that he would have to repeat these very same words to the older classes, the man left the teenagers alone with their thoughts. But not for long, for the bell rang almost immediately.

Sue Peters stood frozen, a faint tremor running through her fragile shoulders.

“Every one of you is to come and collect a leaflet after classes. And keep your speculations behind your teeth.”

The school’s sports grounds looked even more expansive and well-developed than the rest of the campus. From the stands, there was a clear view of the entire stadium, which included a football field, a running track, and several separate courts. At that moment, something was happening on every one of them. The American football teams, already suited up in their uniforms, spread out and took their positions on the field for a practice game. Across from them, another group of students in sportswear warmed up. Even the cheerleaders were practicing here. Sola attended P.E. only on occasions. And those occasions happened whenever she came to this class.

So instead of joining her peers in training, she sat in the front seats of the stands. At first, she wanted to hide in the back rows, but they were already occupied. A boy in a black sweater was asleep beneath the seats, hidden well enough that he couldn’t be seen from the outside. Sola made a head note of the trick for future use.

Settling down in the shade cast by a tall pole, she pulled her battered diary from her bag. A new entry filled yet another blank page, leaving ink stains across her palms:

“I’m supposedly at a school. But I doubt that’s what it really is. It feels more like the set of a movie about clichéd teenagers.”

“Hey, new girl. What are you doing?"

A stocky man with protruding front teeth approached her from behind, almost pecking at her paper. She recognized him as a coach by the whistle around his neck.

"I'm sick."

"Sick with what?"

"Sickness."

His stiff, weary eyes looked at her from beneath heavy lids, their very expression seeming to pour out a single heartfelt confession: I hate children.

But he had to swallow all the bitterness that had built up inside him, forcing it down deeper if he wanted to keep surviving on the miserable pennies paid for a job that hardly anyone respected anymore.

“We don’t just sit around here. If you’re not going to participate, go to the chess club.”

Sola barely suppressed a painful groan at the mention of the game. Thinking of a way to slip out of it, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“Not sitting? Looks like the guy under the back bleachers doesn’t know that.”

The P.E. teacher suspiciously narrowed his eyes and moved forward. When the girl jumped up to leave, he shouted after her:

“I will personally make sure you get there. The room is straight ahead and to the left.”

The endless day was replaced by one event after another, and each surpassed the other on the scale of boredom. The chess club was located in a former utility room and could barely fit all the truants. However, there were fewer of them than Sola had thought — only two pairs of people were sitting at the tables for games. Neither of them looked like amateurs serving a punishment, but rather like enthusiasts of such an activity.

At the entrance, she was met and escorted by a club member, who explained how their system worked here. Though, Sola listened to none of it, because she remembered that she had forgotten to take with her on the journey the earplugs in which she slept.

“….Sit down.”

The young girl pointed to a chair and retreated. At that moment, time seemed to slow down and drag on for an excruciatingly long time, stretching out a year into several additional years. Sola threw her backpack down and sat at the table, only to realize that she would not be sitting alone. Across from her was a young man with a scowl on his face, as if he were staring at a public enemy.

“I haven't seen you before," he said firmly, his stern gaze fixed on his chess opponent.

Sola relaxedly stretched out against the back of the chair, also not taking her gaze away.

“I arrived here yesterday.”

“You moved?”

“Not exactly. I’m temporarily staying with relatives.”

“And who are they?”

“Is this an interrogation?”

He jerked his chin, scattering the curls that fell onto his cheeks around his head. His voluminous hair resembled a thick hat made of small dark curls. The expressiveness of his face was given by his black eyebrows, which bent amusingly at the slightest hint of disapproval.

“Why aren’t you making a move?”

Sola lowered her eyes to the chessboard. One of the enemy pieces: the smallest piece, carved from white wood, stood apart from all the others. What that meant, she had no idea.

“I don’t know how to play."

At this revelation, the high school student's eyes widened so much that it seemed they would pop out at the next even more shocking event.

"Well... these... these are the pawns, and they move forward or two squares or one square."

He pointed with his finger at the piece they were talking about, the one he had moved. Then he explained the basics of the game, as thoroughly as he could. Some of the explanations were so primitive, as though they were being addressed to a small child.