The Woodlands

“What are you talking about?” I said, punching his arm. Rash always exaggerated.

Somewhat seriously, well, as serious as Rash could ever sound when he was in this kind of mood, he said, “He looks at you, like, I don’t know, like you’re the only girl in the world, or something.”

I snorted. I highly doubted it. From what I had seen, Joseph could have his pick of any girl in this place. They threw themselves at him on a daily basis. I heard the other girls talking about him at the dorms. I hated it. I was tempted to make up a rumor that he had a hideous birth defect or something. Instead, I just quietly fumed.

“Maybe he’s looking at you, you idiot, since you’re always making a spectacle of yourself,” I deflected. I didn’t like thinking about Joseph and I certainly didn’t want to talk about him. That was enough to distract Rash, who then went on and on about how, of course, everyone was looking at him—he was the most handsome, clever person in this place. I kicked him in the back of the legs so his knees buckled. I glanced over at Joseph while Rash was sprawled on the floor, just to check. He was talking to his medical friends. His face was concentrated like he was talking about something very important. It had been months since I had heard his voice and I realized I didn’t really know him anymore—he seemed so grown up compared to us. I blushed as I realized if he had looked over this way, he probably thought we were all clowns.

I turned to Rash, who was moaning about his aching knees. “Can you be even slightly serious for a second?” I said loudly. Then more quietly, “We’ve got assessment to worry about.”

“Oh, I’m all about being serious, sister!” Rash stood up straight and started marching out the door, kicking his legs high in the air. The rest of the boys were barreling out the door laughing and knocking each other around. One of the Birch boys shoved me into the wall. I squeaked as I banged my elbow. I turned and leaned against the dark wood paneling, facing the doorway, rubbing the graze. Joseph was standing. Our eyes met, a pull so strong it was like we were attached with a fishing line and he was reeling me in. I took one step towards him. His fists were clenched, his face drawn down. He looked like he was having an i

“C’mon, Soar, we have work to do.” I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself that I had imagined that moment. Assessment, I said to myself. That’s all that matters.

The assessment was a big deal. It determined what stream you would go into from your Allocation. So, if you were in the medical Class and you scored well, you would go into the high stream, training you to be a surgeon or researcher. If you did poorly, you would be emptying old people’s bedpans in the outer rings. For me, scoring highly meant the difference between laying bricks and crafting furniture. I desperately wanted to do well. I had found I adored working with wood and I was good at it. Mister Gomez had let us choose our own project. We just had to make something from local resources and it needed to have a specific purpose.

Most of the boys were making tables and chairs or desks with drawers. I chose something more delicate. I was aiming for the top, so I was trying to make a jewelry box for a woman in Superiors. I had to use a lot of imagination, as I had never really seen much jewelry. Only my mother’s simple wedding ring and a necklace Paulo’s mother had given her. I made a lockable box with a removable tray on the top that had small compartments for rings and earrings and a large compartment underneath for larger items. I needed it to be perfect. Simple but beautiful. I had carved eight concentric rings resembling the towns of the Woodlands into the lid of the box. I painstakingly inlayed the timbers from each town into the rings.

The boys all hovered around, admiring it. Nik slapped me on the back a little too hard and I braced myself against the edge of the bench. “Hell, Soar, ya did well. Ya tryin’ to make us all look bad,” he said with a crooked smile.

One of the boys punched Nik hard in the gut. “Don’t be a dickhead, Nik. Nah, it’s really good Soar, really good.” I just gri

When I placed the last piece of wood in the rings, I felt an enormous sense of accomplishment. I had poured my heart and soul into making this and it was beautiful. The timber was warm and smooth to touch. The design was flawless. I had never created anything I was more proud of. I’d never created anything before. I was sure that this would be enough to secure me a place in the high stream.

On my way back to the dorms, Rash and I walked through the garden, which was actually called the Class Arboretum. It was my favorite place and we had come here often over the last couple of months. He would prattle on and I would pretend to listen as I walked from plant to plant reading the little plaques. Absorbing the information like a drug. If I hadn’t got into Construction, I think I would have enjoyed horticulture.

I was reading the description for the Pau Brasil tree for the hundredth time when Rash sidled up to me. He was light on his feet and he startled me with his closeness. It was dark, with only the moonlight and some garden lights dotted around to illuminate the way.

“Good luck for tomorrow, Rosa,” he said. He never used my real name. I frowned and bumped him sideways. “Good luck, Rash, you’re going to need it.” I winked at him and he gri

That night I dreamed a wonderful dream. I was in my own little workshop. Making furniture, ru

If I had known this was the day, I wonder if I would have done anything different. Could I have stopped the horrible events that unfolded before my eyes?

Maybe.

Probably not.

I had worked late into the night, putting coats of oil and endlessly sanding my jewelry box. I was obsessing over it, wanting to make sure every part of it was perfect. Not even admitting to myself how much it meant to me.

Now that I was back in the workshop, after a restless nights’ sleep, I stepped back and tried to appraise it critically. It was certainly eye pleasing. It didn’t look like something I made and I couldn’t help wondering where I had pulled it from. How was I able to create something so good? It was not like me, or at least not what I thought I was like. A sense of unfamiliar pride swelled inside me. I was nervous, but satisfied that this would be good enough. The dream crept back into my mind, a shiny, haze of a picture. My own workshop, my own work.

“Don’t worry, Soar, it’s fantastic!” said Henri, putting his long arm around my shoulders. I took a deep breath. He smelled wonderful, like a combination of freshly sanded timber and oil. I could tell by the dark circles under his eyes that he had been here all night, his usually flawless appearance showing some cracks, a hair out of place, a crinkle in his shirt.

Henri had been the moral compass of the group. From what I had gathered, life in Birchton was even harsher than in Pau. Henri had been raised in an extremely strict environment and his appearance reflected that. His ash-blonde hair was always neatly combed back. His uniform was always impeccable. Outwardly, he looked like the perfect student, serious and dedicated. But there was such a warmth and kindness to him. He was always looking out for us, trying, to no avail, to get the group to settle down at meal times and in class. I admired the fact that despite his hard upbringing, he had managed to keep his soul intact, unlike many of the other students. He was the one that we would look to, in case we had gone too far, and he would always let us know, but in a kind and measured way. Having someone look out for me wasn’t something I was very used to. In Pau, everyone looked after themselves. I only knew one other person who behaved like Henri, or at least used to.