Episode 54: Etiquette Lesson (Emily)

In every iteration of her conversation with Cecil, Emily knew the one flaw in her plan: she could not nor would she ever be allowed to leave her job. She was too excited about Rhyss, too lost in dreams she knew better than to have.

Today was a new day. She could make the best of her situation. She was determined to regain their trust so.she could gain access to some basic things. She knew a spell to terminate the pregnancy. Emily preferred the idea of ending their lives now over subjecting them to whatever twins program Cecil had in mind.

She could ask for the ingredients. Stockpiling them over a week after asking for them for various meals may work.

She went over to the small white desk in her new white room and found a matching white pencil, the silver of lead and tan of wood were a stark contrast to the sterile environment.

Before she could start writing, there was a knock on her door.

“Come in,” she said. She couldn’t imagine anyone but Cecil being behind the door.

She was right.

“The class of older boys we’d like you to start teaching are ready.”

She tucked the pencil into the white cup holder where three other pencils sat.

“What am I teaching today?” she asked. With her previous students, she had been creative and in control of her lesson plans. In time she would become bolder but for the moment she wanted direction. Parameters would allow her the safety of not getting herself in more trouble. Behaving may gain Cecil’s trust.

He looked back into the hall for a moment, then turned toward the room.again, “Whatever you know about dining etiquette.”

Dining room etiquette.

He had not, then, read anything about her past. Dining room etiquette in Clovercrest involved making sure no one under ten received a sharp knife, and nothing was served with sharp knives if a guest was over.

She did know a bit about etiquette outside of her experiences, but that wasn’t something Cecil would know.

“What are their ages, and how many are there?” Emily asked as she put her shoes on.

The floors were a soft grey, unlike everything else. She laced her shoes slowly.

“They’re fourteen. There are ten of them competing to be the best student, so we’re interested to hear how you think they do.”

Emily was still as she stared at her shoes. Best often meant the rest were disposable. “Okay,” she replied. She took a deep breath as she stood upright.

As they walked, she tried to set her mind to what she could give: direction, compassion, maybe humor. The walk was mostly silent. As she entered the room she tried not to think of them as all but dead. They were still people until the last day she would see them.

“Hi,” she said at the front of the room, before Cecil could take control of the situation. “I’m Emily.”

The boys looked at her as though they had never seen a female before. She tried to emulate warmth.

“She will be teaching you social skills. You have ten minutes to get to know her,” Cecil stated. He walked to the edge of the room and leaned against a stretch of cabinets.

This room was plain, but less so than her room. The cabinets had blue countertops, at least.  The boys were also plain. Most classes she had been exposed to had a variety of students. This one had all light-skinned students. They did have a variety of hair colors – browns, blondes, and one almost black. Still, most classes included a mix of tones. She wondered what this one was for.

She would humanize the students for Cecil. If he was so cold he couldn’t see them as people she would just be his metaphorical glove warmers.

A boy raised his hand, one with bronze-brown hair. She smiled, “Yes? Your name?”

“Thackery, ma’am. What kind of social skills haven’t we learned already?”

She laughed, an airy laugh she didn’t want to escape but did anyway. She wanted to teach them about food fights. It would have to become a lesson.

“Do you know which sides of your plate silverware go? Which order they go once they’re on the correct sides?” Emily asked, more serious.

“In your mouth?” a brown haired boy whose face narrowed toward his chin and bright blue eyes asked.

He had spirit, not raising his hand. Already two distinct people filled her mind with endless potential.

She smirked, “And which side of your plate do you lie your mouth next to?”

The classroom laughed, a reminder of why she did love her job. Even Cecil looked amused, a small smile hiding beneath his burly front.

The boy, next to the one that just spoke, spoke openly too, “It depends who you’re sitting by.”

This one seemed close to the blue-eyed boy, and he had dense wavy hair. It was lighter brown. She wished she had more names.

A fourth boy chimed in, this one with blonde hair, “Plates are round. They don’t even have sides.”

She laughed again. Some days children were endless ideas without limits. Other days, other children, couldn’t see possibility in front of them. Round plates were not spherical, and therefore were capable of having sides. She had only thought of the question because her mom’s plates used to have a seal on the back and she liked lining them up. She wasn’t even sure if it was a requirement. It seemed like a good challenge question though.

“So,” Emily said. She set her hands down on the raised counter at the front of the room. “You have things to learn.”

The second boy, the bold leader one, glanced at Cecil then looked at her, hungry and eager for anything more, “Where are you from? Are you from wherever we’re going?”

Emily hesitated and looked at Cecil as well. He nodded, a fraction of a movement. She couldn’t imagine how he could be so at peace in an environment so hostile, yet she knew she was doing it too.

“I’m from Sylem. I use plants in spells for magic. I don’t know where you’re going.”

“Some of them aren’t going anywhere,” Cecil stated.

Death. Right.

She took a deep breath then smiled again, “What else? Anything.”

There was silence in the room, the feeling that a spell had been broken and Cecil would never let them have respice from their suffering.

Then, the friend of the bold boy spoke, “Were you born with your magic?”

“Yes,” Emily replied.

“Can you show us?” the blonde asked.

“No,” Cecil barked.

She wished one of the other boys would speak up. It drove a clear line as to who would survive and who would not. Four boys of ten would live or die for their bold tongues. Three, especially. If the three or four didn’t die, she suspected the other six would be eliminated for the opposite reason.

Emily looked at each boy, “I can, but I’d prefer no one gets in trouble, myself included. But I am capable of showing you.”

A fifth boy spoke up, his hair dark and his jaw even more narrow than the bold boy’s. “What’s your home like?” he asked.

Emily closed her eyes for a moment and imagined her house – her Mrs. Emily Hartmaan house – refurbished and furnished and full of life.

“I live along the ocean, facing west in the nook of a peninsula. On long winter nights the peninsula shields us from storms. The beach is covered in rocky stones that you can skip across the water. In the spring, my garden is overflowing with herbs you can smell in the seabreeze.”

“Are you married?” Thackery, the first boy, asked.

“No,” she replied. Not married. Never married. She swallowed.

“How did you start working here?” the friend of the second boy asked.

“First, your name?”

“Thayer,” He replied.

Thackery and Thayer. She was in trouble; her nickname system may work better. She was afraid to ask any other names for fear they would be Thoren or something like that.

“I…” she began.

Cecil stepped away from the counter he was leaning against and began walked toward the front of the room. “Time’s up. You’ll meet here at 7:15 tomorrow morning.”

The boys sighed. She would do her best to bring life to that room as often as she was there. They deserved it.

“You can go back to work now,” Cecil stated.

“Will I be continuing my normal job around this one?” Emily asked, her voice way too full of hope.

“Your shift for that doesn’t begin until nine, so it shouldn’t overlap.”

Oscar, Max, and Cy flashed before her eyes. She would hug them. She didn’t often, but she would today.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow morning,” she started to Cecil. She looked out at the class, at ten eager boys with minds needing answers to questions and hope and love and someone to bring life into their short ones.

“I want an answer to the following question: which side of the plate is at the north placement?” She tried not to laugh as she left the room and she hoped the blonde would have the answer.

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