Contained by Love

Chapter 16 - Answers to the Wrong Questions

   A few beads of sweat were dripping off my face once I had reached Madame’s room. I was panting hard and had to hold onto the cold wall for balance. I had run for dear life once I got out of the dance room and I was determined to get my ass over to her office as quickly as possible.

   The door was locked, obviously. But what I had first noticed was the color. Every other door in the Institute was just simple slate grey. This door was white.

   If it was reflecting her soulless personality, it would have been better off black.

  Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a bobby pin and a paper clip. Not only did I like ditching school with Ryan, but he also taught me a few handy tricks. I mean, how else could I have barged into Bea hooking up with a college guy if I couldn’t pick the lock to the school bathrooms?

  I close my eyes and my mind sweeps over the memory of picking the lock. Opening my eyes, I bend the paper clip into an S shape, and stick it into the lock. Taking the bobby pin, I flip it over to the wiggly side, stretch the two parts, and push it on top of the first part. As I jiggled the bobby pin, I tried to keep my hand steady, the one that was holding the paper clip.

  I knew I was out of practice, but I had to get some credit for my efforts, right?

   Letting out a gust of air, I heard a quiet click, and the doorknob twisted. I silently congratulate myself and waste no time in pushing the door open and entering, making sure to lock it from the inside.

  Looking around me, my jaw drops. Hell, Madame may have created a desolate school for defenseless kids, but her taste in interior design was impeccable. I was expecting some hole in the wall crappy desk with a shiny red apple on it and a mug that read Best Teacher.

   But this, this work of art standing before me was a huge shocker. Totally did not see that one coming.

  Looking at the walls was like entering the Grand Canyon. Such a wild red could only be found in works of nature like that. There was a modern looking black bookcase that took up the entire wall. On it were files, notes, textbooks, and notebooks. Obviously organized to the point where they stood alphabetized, color coordinated, and size order. All I could say was, damn. She must really have a lot of time on her hands.

  There was no stereotypical teachers desk. There was a bar, set with a marble counter, with a tinge that sang of sleek and fresh.

  All of this registered in my head in the course of a few seconds, although my examinations felt like it took years.

  I quickly shuffle over to the book case and start flipping through the files. This was my part of the plan. I’m supposed to dig up some dirt and hopefully use it. Maybe as blackmail. Maybe as evidence to the police. I had no idea yet.

 I stumbled upon a notebook, and when flipping through it, encountered all our names. There were two sections, one for boys and one for girls. They were obviously alphabetized, and it was like eyeing a medical chart.

I opened the first page to see a girl I didn’t know very well. Bella Cather was her name. Utter shock overtook me when I read her information. Madame had written her address, her grades in school, her birthday, everything. Underneath the little boxes with her info, there was a picture of her laughing.

I felt a little sick. How did Madame find all this out?

I was about to turn the page when a red name caught me off guard. The section was labeled “paired with” and there was a name written in bright red. Carson Jackson.

Another somewhat familiar person that I didn’t really know but saw a few times around the school. But why was his name there? What did it mean?

Suddenly, one of Madame’s fornication lessons popped up in my mind, and I remembered it word for word.