The Burning of the Palace at Versailles (or, Butterfly) [REWRITING]

Chapter 24 - California Dreamin'

"Jordan, I'm going to be honest with you, it's not looking good."

The office of the Dean of Students was freezing. Jordan was wearing two sweaters and a jacket and she was still freezing. She gripped the strap of her handbag and felt the leather bite into her palm. The man sitting on the other side of the desk was someone she had never met in person. He was someone who always smiled at students as he passed, and ran programs where he handed out coffee and cookies. Jordan never had any intention of ever actually meeting him, because why would she ever need to talk to the dean, of all people?

"We were willing to work with you and your roommates to find you new living accommodations once last year. But your new roommates have been complaining, and your teachers say that you rarely show up to class. When you do, you cause a disturbance."

Jordan thought that was a little rude. It's not like she meant to cause disturbances. But there had been a monster in the back of the auditorium, and no one else had seen it. She had to tell people when there was a monster and only she could see it, right?

"You've already been asked to leave three classes. I'm not able to find you further housing. If you can't stop causing these disruptions, I will need to ask you to withdraw from the university."

Jordan supposed this was politeness on the part of the school. Dropping out of school, although not good, was a lot better than being kicked out of school. Still, it was a tough idea for her to get past. There was a fly buzzing in the room. Its wings droned loudly on and it made a hard little crack every time it hit the glass light above the desk. Every time it did, and every time it flew by Jordan, she flinched. She hated insects, she always had. Except for butterflies. She loved butterflies. Once, she had seen a picture of a group of monarchs eating the corpse of a fish, and there was something damn near beautiful about that.

Her legs ached to run. Every muscle and nerve in her body wanted to bolt out of that office. But she was supposed to be there because they told her she had to be there.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

Jordan wasn't sure she had anything more to say for herself. She had written emails to every teacher and the dean before, talking about her concerns. She had told them she had been unable to get any sleep because of the music in the courtyard. She told them about losing her voice and it never coming back. But none of them ever seemed to care.

"Also, this silence of yours has to stop. Your fellow classmates find it disconcerting."

What the fuck? Jordan thought. So if it wasn't bad enough that she couldn't talk, now she was being told that her inability to speak was bothering others.

"Have you thought about therapy, Jordan?" the dean asked.

Jordan did her best to send him a withering glare. Therapy was for crazy people and people who had too much time to sit around and listen to sad music and read poetry. Jordan wasn't crazy. She just couldn't talk, and no one could tell her why she couldn't talk.

"I could see if I can get a deal: If you agree to go to therapy, stay out of any and all trouble— and I mean trouble both in and out of the classroom, mind you— and keep your grades high, I may be able to keep you in your classes for the rest of the semester, just on academic probation. If you cannot do that, then I will have to suspend you for the rest of the semester. Please don't make me do that, Jordan."

Jordan thought the Dean sounded pretty fake, but then again, there were kids who thought he was maybe a cyborg. A cyborg meant to keep students happy and their tuition-paying parents happier.