The Maplethorn Initiative (Book 1, The Maplethorn Series)

Orientation

Cameron Drexler lay across the backseat of his parents' car. It had been over an hour since he saw anything but blue sky and bare trees when he realized they were slowing.

"Do you think that's it?" Paula Drexler asked, peering over the top of her sunglasses.

"It has to be," David Drexler replied, flipping on the car's turn signal and taking them down a narrow, asphalt road.

"Well, they sure don't want any neighbors."

"Kind of the point, dear."

Cam pulled himself up just far enough to see through the windshield. He was expecting guard towers and barbed wire, but the building that appeared out of the skeletal trees looked like it belonged on a college campus or in downtown Washington DC. Four stone columns dominated the front of the structure, stretching to the eaves of a slightly pointed roof. The first floor was limestone with white glass windows that kept the building's secrets concealed. The second and third stories were made of tan-colored bricks and lined with rows of yawning, black windows.

David Drexler parked the car in a small lot. He led his wife and son up three broad, stone steps to a set of glass doors that proved to be locked. Taped to the inside was a white piece of paper with black lettering.

"Maplethorn Academy Orientation Center," Mrs. Drexler read aloud. "Hours of operation 8:00 AM to 4:00 PM, Monday through Friday." She turned to her husband. "Do we knock?"

Cam saw a stocky young man with a bushy, brown beard hurrying toward them from the other side of the glass. He wore black pants and black shoes with a white polo shirt and a gold badge. The man fumbled with a keyring before releasing the lock and pushing a door open. "Good afternoon," he said cordially. "Can I help you, folks?"

David Drexler clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Cameron Drexler. Here to self-surrender," he said proudly.

The man in the polo shirt seemed confused as he studied each member of the Drexler family. "Okay. Um, come on in, please."

A curved, wooden desk filled the small room just inside the door. The walls were covered with plaques for "Outstanding Service," although Cam noticed that most dated from the nineteen-eighties and nineties.

The man swooped behind the desk and sat down. He picked up a small tablet and pecked at the screen with a thick finger. "Sorry, they took away our computers and gave us these."

"Are we in the right place?" Paula Drexler asked.

"Yes," the man answered after several more pecks. "I think. Yeah. Here he is. Cameron Drexler. This says you were supposed to be here last week."

"But my letter said today!"

David Drexler held up a hand, signaling that he would do the talking. "We have the letter. It clearly says—"

Cam's mother slapped the letter on the desk. "It says the fifth right there!"

The security guard, or whatever he was, laid his tablet next to the letter. His eyes bounced between the documents much too quickly to be reading them. "It's okay," he said, pushing the letter toward Mrs. Drexler. "We'll still take him."

"Look, if it's a problem, I can just go," Cam suggested hopefully.

His father waved him back. "Son..."

"I'm sorry," the man behind the desk apologized. "Must be a typo. Just bring the letter in with you, and everything will be fine."

Paula Drexler hurled herself toward her son, pressing her face into his neck as she squeezed him tight. "Oh, honey. We love you so much! You know that, right?"