The New Rules

You Can Never Go Back

Clara didn't tell anyone about Coral.

Instead, she graduated from high school, threw those squared tasselled hats in the air, and jumped up and down with Amy and Jackson respectively, at the ceremony. Her sister, Ella stood by her side all day, like she was coolest girl in the world taking photos with her father's phone. She sat with her mother, and talked about the future of engineering while Grace told stories of her days as a freshman.

"During the first week of school, all of the engineers dyed themselves purple," Grace said. "When I was in engineering school, women were a minority. I was part of 100 women in a graduating class of 1,250. As girls, we stuck together, but we also wanted to be part of the bunch. We dyed our hair purple like the boys. I remember one guy shouted at us that we should be dyed pink like our vaginas. My best friend at the time, Teresa, remember Teresa? The one who visited from Dallas? Anyways, she clocked him in the face at opening ceremonies and he fell into a group of humanities kids."

Every time she told these stories, she was more alive than ever, as if these years were the ones that made her life. She met Jack in university. She became someone. Her eyes would look up and she had a dumb smile splashed on her face, like a 14 year old in love who just wanted to tell stories about their crush. Clara listened, and obeyed, and smiled at all the right parts. But inside, she was drowning with guilt over thoughts of The Chalkboard Academy.

She was afraid, the way someone would feel before jumping out of a plane, except that plane is her family and jumping out would mean cutting herself off from them, and lying to them in a way that she'd never done before. She was part of the group that didn't need to think about alternatives. She had college covered, and a career, and a direct path to a mortgage-free house (her parents would give her a down payment) and her children, assuming she had them, would be with a man she'd meet at John Hopkins, and would follow the exact same path as their mother.

She started running daily, without her mother's prompt.

"Darling looks like all that running is paying off. Did you know that John Hopkins has a great track team?" her mother said, as she picked at a fruit plate in the kitchen, prepared by their housekeeper, Marla.

"Just prepping for those freshman 15," Clara responded, but really, when she shut the door behind her, she felt free, like she was running away from a panic attack. She'd whiz by the mansions on the pristine lots, with the trimmed landscaping and luxury sports cards. The streets were wide like a giant with outreached arms. Each home had a large backyard, some with a swimming pool, and oak trees that held homemade swing-sets. Despite the idyllic surroundings, Clara craved the city, with smog and energy and buildings that grazed the clouds. On her last run, before packing up for John Hopkins, she took the tablet with her.

There she was, Coral, starting back at her in a video. "Hello Clara," she said staring directly into a camera. She was in a room that was all white, except for the neon yellow peeking out of a bowl of lemons. "This is your official offer to join The Chalkboard Academy. Once you hit yes, we will arrange for your pickup to arrive at the school. Here, you will take an aptitude test that helps us determine your interests, which will determine your choice of placement. From there, you will be bound to us for one year, including another placement after your first semester. We hope to see you soon!"

Darkness. Clara swiped through the tablet offer.

Contract: One year.

Memory bank: You will enter the memories of the chosen placement. If you want to be a teacher, you will live the life of a teacher in his/her first year of teaching. You will experience their daily schedule, stressors and joys, including how their job affects their social life and relationships.

How does it work? We've developed safe, and effective memory pills to transfer you into the memories of each career. These are real people, with real memories. Your experience is like having a real internship, with real skills. You will feel what it's like to hold a scalpel, or be in a courtroom, or fly a plane, without having to make any decisions, safely asleep in our state of the art, career pods.

Clara thought about her childhood, about her future. She thought about the possibility of leaving it all behind, but something about pushing yes felt so far out of the zone of what she understood, like it was someone else's life. John Hopkins would be safe, and close to home, she could visit Ella any time, and though she rarely let herself think about it, she knew that Xavier would be able to find her too.

She took a deep breath, and pressed, NO.

She kept her finger on the screen, and watched as a pop-up box appeared: Are you sure, Clara? She stared at the box, ignored the question, and turned the power off.

*

The day she left for college, she packed her car with belongings.

The car was a present from her grandparents, Kitty and Bill, her mother's parents. It was a white, shiny, four-wheel drive, SUV; the kind that kids asked for on those reality television shows about spoiled teens. The kind that left the parking lot, and already cost whomever purchased them more money than they could imagine. She opened the trunk and placed all of her items that the university checklist advised on: storage bins, desk lamp, drying rack for laundry, linens, towels, pillows, laptop, headphones, toiletries, aspirin, shower shoes, and her new tablet.

Ella stood crying beside her father, not wanting to say goodbye. Clara kneeled down and squeezed her tight, trying to hold it together. "I'll call you when I get to school and we'll Facetime, it won't even feel like I'm gone." Ella nodded, and squeezed Clara tighter, her tiny arms reaching around Clara's neck. Kyle sat on the grass nearby with a video game, and hugged her with one arm. "See you squirt," she said. Her parents stood proud, her mother wearing her vintage John Hopkins college t-shirt, while her father wearing a new John Hopkins t-shirt, fresh from being ordered in the mail and creased, as if he just took it out of the package fifteen minutes ago. They hugged her at the same time, and in unison said, "We love you so much." When they let go, they retained painted-on smiles, even though her father seemed to have watery eyes. Her mother, though, was glowing, as if she'd finally done something right by Clara.

As Clara got in the front seat, and plugged in her phone, her mother ran towards the car. "Grandpa and Kitty wanted you to have a little nest egg to start your first month away. Don't spend it all on beer." Clara smiled, and took the envelope.

When her mother was out of sight, she reversed the car, and looked straight ahead. She honked twice, before putting the car into drive. She threw the envelope on the passenger seat like a worthless grocery flyer she got in the mail.

She looked straight ahead.