Dickensen Academy Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Dickensen Academy

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter: 1

  Chapter: 2

  Chapter: 3

  Chapter: 4

  Chapter: 5

  Chapter: 6

  Chapter: 7

  Chapter: 8

  Chapter: 9

  Chapter: 10

  Chapter: 11

  Chapter: 12

  Chapter: 13

  Chapter: 14

  Chapter: 15

  Chapter: 16

  Chapter: 17

  Chapter: 18

  Chapter: 19

  Chapter: 20

  Chapter: 21

  Chapter: 22

  Chapter: 23

  Chapter: 24

  Chapter: 25

  Chapter: 26

  Chapter: 27

  Chapter: 28

  Chapter: 29

  Chapter: 30

  Chapter: 31

  Chapter: 32

  Chapter: 33

  Chapter: 34

  Chapter: 35

  Chapter: 36

  Chapter: 37

  Chapter: 38

  Chapter: 39

  Chapter: 40

  Chapter: 41

  Chapter: 42

  Chapter: 43

  Chapter: 44

  Chapter: 45

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing

  Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc. and other major retailers

  “I feel like there’s something big we don’t know about. Something those students were protecting. I mean, really, why are we here?”

  I thought it was just me who was confused. “Well…the recruiters said we’re creative and focused.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Principal Locke said too.”

  “And we have the right personality.”

  Ben looked up at the sky, sighed, then turned toward the forest. “What did he say…something about how it will soon become clear why we’re here, and there’s some ultimate purpose for our creativity?”

  “I know. That whole creativity part was a bit bizarre.”

  He shrugged. “It seems everyone is going with the flow. But I have so many questions.” Then he touched my arm to stop me, so I turned toward him. “I’m thinking they’re isolating us for some special reason,” he admitted in an embarrassed tone.

  I tried not to laugh—he was acting paranoid. But I didn’t know Ben well. Maybe he was joking, trying to freak me out. Or was he hitting on me? The flutter in my chest moved to my stomach. I was already anxious about being away from home and whether or not I could hack the academics. I didn’t need to obsess about anything else. But I still had to know about Ben’s dream.

  “So…I also had a dream about Dickensen before I accepted the offer.”

  Ben’s head snapped toward me. “You did?”

  Dickensen Academy

  by

  Christine Grabowski

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Dickensen Academy

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Christine Grabowski

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kristian Norris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Mainstream Fantasy Rose Edition, 2018

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-2123-3

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2124-0

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For my family and friends who believed in me from the beginning, especially Rich, Anna, Calvin, Stephanie, Gary, and Laurie

  Acknowledgements

  This book would never be in your hands (or on your electronic device) if not for so many people who helped me bring this story into the world, many more than I can name on this page.

  ~*~

  My husband, Rich, believed I could write a novel before I typed a single word. My daughter, Anna, was my first reader and fan. My son, Calvin, kept my spirits high and like the rest of my family never complained about my long hours on the laptop. My sister, Stephanie, saw the manuscript’s potential. My parents, Gary and Laurie, were my biggest cheerleaders. My sister-in-law, Luz, made the Dominican chapter possible. And our Welsh terrier, Rylie, was my constant companion through it all.

  ~*~

  So many friends read the manuscript and offered needed encouragement, especially Allison, Chuck, Eileen, Evelyn, Georgia, Jacob, Karla, Kelly, Lisa, Lori, Mackenzie, Marie, Marlo, Matthew, McKenzie, Michele, Mike, Rose, Sangeet, Sharon, and Shelley. The members of my long-standing book clubs pushed me to read a wider variety of books.

  ~*~

  My writing community taught me so much about the industry and the craft of writing, particularly Kidcrit members (Adrian, Andrew, Anitha, Ariel, Chrissy, Don, Helen, Ian, Kaye, Mar, Marsha, and Steve), the Ampersands (Claire, Judy, and Sonja), Blessy, Joan, Katherine, Kathleen, Laura, Maureen, and Michelle.

  ~*~

  Finally, thank you to everyone at The Wild Rose Press, especially my editor, Josette Arthur, for falling in love with Dickensen Academy and making my dream of getting published a reality.

  Chapter: 1

  Clues to the secret existed from day one, yet they appeared to belong to separate puzzles. Most students either missed these signs or chose to ignore them. We were busy acclimating—as the faculty called it—to a new environment. Some outsiders might call what they did to us those initial weeks a form of brainwashing or fostering a cult-like mentality.

  But not me.

  I agreed with Principal Locke. We weren’t ready. We needed time to separate from our families and become a cohesive group. And some of us, myself included, even needed a little nudge to accept the invitation. If someone had told us the truth on Day One why they’d brought us to Dickensen Academy, we would have never believed them. We’d think they were crazy. Or worse, we’d turn around and run back home. But if we left, we would have missed out on something extraordinary. Something worth the wait.

  My first day was confusing enough. I hopped out of the backseat the moment our SUV stopped. The sun was bright without a cloud in the sky, but the air had a definite chill. Fall must have begun earlier in the mountains.

  “Excited?” Dad said as he climbed out, along with Mom and my older brother Josh.

  I nodded slightly as I took it all in. The parking lot occupied the edge of a huge clearing surrounded by towering evergreens and distant peaks. Birds sang a welcome and pine scent hung in the air. This place was larger than I’d imagined.

  When I turned toward the cream-colored buildings, I gasped. Images of myself on campus flickered through my brain: walking between the dorm and the school, crouching below a huge modern art sculpture, and sitting near a pond reflecting this same wooded backdrop.

  I’d been here before.

  No. Impossible. The three largest buildings were plastered all over the academy’s brochure and website. That’s where I’d seen them. I ignored the fine hairs sticking up on the back of my neck. Must’ve been the breeze.

  A young guy trotted toward us wit
h a clipboard and gave us a school-portrait-worthy smile—likely one he’d practiced for the parents. He looked a few years older than me, probably a senior like my brother. “Welcome to Dickensen Academy. Can I get your name?”

  As I opened my mouth to answer, Dad beat me to it. “Autumn Mattison.”

  I forced a smile while my hands bunched into fists at my sides.

  He scanned his list and marked something down. “All freshmen are assigned to O’Reilly Hall. That’s the dormitory off to the left.” He pointed the way. “Follow those people across the quad.”

  We each grabbed a bag and headed toward the dorm. None of my friends went to boarding school. Most everything I knew about them came from books and movies. But this place might be a lot different. It would be packed with the most creative teens from the western side of the United States, not a bunch of rich kids since tuition was paid by the Dickensen Foundation. I jogged ahead, mentally urging my family to walk faster, but they carried the heavier items.

  In the center of the grassy quad where multiple concrete paths intersected, I paused to inspect three life-size statues of students: one painting at an easel, one reading a book, and one writing at a desk.

  I turned to Mom when she caught up. “I can’t believe this is actually happening.”

  Her eyes glistened as she gave a tight smile. “Me neither.”

  Dickensen Academy was invitation only to apply. My summer had been filled with testing and interviews, but the chance of acceptance had been slim. I didn’t know who was most shocked when two recruiters appeared at our house ten days ago to offer me a spot. But one thing remained clear. Mom was the least confident in my decision to move away from home just shy of my fifteenth birthday. Avoiding further eye contact with her, I continued toward the three-story building ahead.

  Once inside, we found a spacious sitting room of dark woods and rich reds where several people milled about. Wide hallways led in opposite directions. A woman with gray hair, thick glasses, and a warm smile introduced herself as Margaret Humphrey, my resident advisor. She handed me a thick manila envelope. “You’ll be rooming with another freshman named Aditi Singh on the second floor.”

  She proceeded to rattle on with some basic information, but my mind drifted. Thoughts of Aditi filled my head. What was she like? Would we get along?

  Soon I realized Josh was no longer in our midst. I surveyed the room while pretending to listen to my RA. There he was already chatting with two girls. I couldn’t believe it. Well, yes, I could. This had been happening for years. Even though our olive green eyes, pale skin, and light brown hair marked us as siblings, his features came together more perfectly, as evidenced by the stream of girls who trailed him like groupies. I never had this problem with guys.

  A change in the tone of voices snapped me back to the conversation.

  “What do you mean we can’t visit?” Mom asked.

  “It’s school policy,” Mrs. Humphrey explained. “Freshmen are not allowed off-campus, aside from vacations and Dickensen-sponsored outings. Except for emergencies, of course.”

  She had to be kidding. I’d assumed I would only be gone for a month or two at a time. But I could handle it.

  “I’m sorry. The recruiters should have explained all of this.”

  “Well, they didn’t.” Dad’s tone betrayed his frustration. “I would’ve remembered it if they had.”

  Mom placed a hand on his shoulder and addressed my RA. “But we’re planning an anniversary party for my parents in October. I thought it’d be a nice break for Autumn.”

  I stepped away. I couldn’t bear to have my parents change their minds and take me home over some stupid misunderstanding. Landscape paintings hung on the walls, so I edged closer to read the descriptions under each piece.

  Several minutes later, my parents joined me.

  “Are we leaving?” I asked.

  Mom shook her head. “Of course not. This school is important to you. Mrs. Humphrey explained it’s a bonding thing and assured us it’s for the best.” She let out a long sigh. “Your grandparents will understand.”

  But what about you? No way would Mom have ever agreed if she’d known about this two weeks ago. Lucky for me, it would be awkward to back out now.

  Dad leaned over. “It’s not like they can keep you here against your will. If you’re miserable, forget the asinine policy. You can attend school back in Seattle.”

  I chuckled and returned my attention to the wall. “So…can you believe this stuff was done by students?”

  Mom held a finger to her chin as she admired the artwork. “I’m no expert. But I’d say these pieces could be hung in a gallery.”

  I swallowed hard. “I doubt I’ll ever paint this well. The people look so life-like. And check out the leaves on this tree. You can even see the veins.”

  Mom placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “You’ll do fine, honey. You’re very talented.”

  I tugged her away from the paintings. She’d probably only said it to bolster my shaky ego. My fiction writing caught the attention of the recruiters, not any remarkable artistic ability.

  “The important thing is to do well in your classes,” Dad said. “The academics here are supposed to be as impressive as their fine arts program.” He turned to my brother. “Josh, time to go.”

  Once he excused himself from his admirers, we took the elevator up.

  ****

  Mom surveyed the room. “Looks like your roommate has moved in.” Aside from an open box at the foot of one twin bed, everything seemed to be unpacked.

  “Uh-huh.” Please be nice, Aditi. I held my breath as I opened the pint-sized closet next to the door. Yep. Already three-quarters full…and organized by color. I took a moment to inspect the rest of her belongings. She’d tucked her purple bedspread in with military precision and stacked her books in size order. The only items not impeccably arranged were the picture frames scattered on her dresser. But perhaps even they followed an order she understood. I stepped closer. The largest one showed an Indian family with three children: two girls and a boy. Which girl was Aditi?

  A tall, narrow window between the beds drew me to the far side. Our room was on the backside of the building, overlooking several trees with leaves showing the beginnings of the yellows, oranges, and reds they’d soon become. This sure beats the view of our neighbor’s beige siding. Pressing my face to the glass, I could see a winding path below, which branched into the dense, green forest. It beckoned to me. Maybe later. I smiled. Maybe with Aditi.

  “Why don’t Josh and I give you two some time to unpack?” Dad suggested. “It’s too cramped in here.”

  I bit my lip. “Hey, Dad. While you’re out, um, do you think you could grab the book I was reading? I’m pretty sure I left it in the seatback pocket.”

  I braced for his response. Although Dad was impressed with the academy, he had hinted multiple times he didn’t believe I was responsible enough to succeed without continual parental support.

  He let out a long breath. “You need to learn to focus, Autumn. You’re going to be on your own up here.”

  My eyes fell to his feet, and I mumbled okay. Today of all days I wasn’t about to utter an excuse. Besides, he’d just twist my words around and somehow make me feel even worse about myself. He was an expert at it. A few more hours and I’d finally escape his daily scrutiny.

  Mom and I got straight to work unpacking. I too had brought photos, but I simply pinned mine to the bulletin board hanging above the built-in wood desk: one of my family, one of our Welsh terrier Zoey, and a couple with my two best friends. Julia and I had been tight since sixth grade. She had insisted I’d miss out on a real high school experience by not attending Haller Lake with her. Drew was more encouraging. He lived across the street, and our families had been friends as long as I could remember. His uncle graduated from Dickensen years ago and was a huge factor in my parents’ willingness to allow me to attend.

  When Dad and Josh returned, I was far from organized, but at least
everything was out of the suitcases, and the room felt a bit like my own.

  As we were leaving, a girl whose height barely reached my nose walked in alone. Her wavy, black hair and the smile lighting up her face were familiar, yet I couldn’t place where I’d seen her before.

  “Hi. I’m Aditi.” Her voice flowed like a song with a touch of a lilting accent.

  My words came out even softer than usual. “I’m Autumn.”

  After we exchanged introductions, Mom asked, “Are your parents still here?”

  Aditi’s smile faded and she looked down. “They couldn’t make it. Everything was kind of last minute. Not enough time to arrange childcare and time off work.”

  “So how did you get here?” I asked.

  “I flew in from San Jose, then took the school bus from the airport.”

  My mouth fell open. “By yourself?”

  She nodded.

  My roommate had guts. If I were her, I’m not sure I would have chosen to attend. Although the academy was hours away from Seattle, this was still my home state. I’d grown up gazing at the Cascade Mountains. The closest I’d ever come to traveling alone was flying with Josh to upstate New York to visit Grandma Mattison. And that was only for a week’s vacation.

  “Have we met before?” I finally asked. “Maybe at the testing center in Seattle or something?”

  Aditi shook her head. “I’ve never been in Washington until today.”

  ****

  Outside a group had gathered for the tour, and a young woman addressed the crowd. “Welcome. I’m Stephanie Jenson, one of the language arts teachers, but for the next hour, I’ll be your guide.”

  I listened as Ms. Jenson supplied a bit of school history, but then my heart skipped a beat when a student with sandy-blond hair and bright blue eyes stepped into my line of sight. Ben—a guy I’d met at the testing center over the summer when we were both applying to Dickensen. His tousled hair fell into his face like a surfer’s. He even had a nice tan. I’d merely spoken with him during the testing breaks but sensed a connection. He also starred in the dream I had last week where I explored the campus through the lens of a camera, taking snapshots along the way. When I’d woken, I not only felt I belonged here, but that Ben was part of my future. The peculiar thing: I remembered the dream clearly for days.