Entangled Summer (3 page)

I stepped out of the room into the hall. Still sweating. And confused. What was that? I hadn’t been to many interviews before, but honestly. What. The. Hell.

She basically told me I had no experience and no business being anywhere near their precious students. Yet she hadn’t bothered to have me escorted out the front door like so many others who’d exited her office with their tails between their legs. I stood rooted in place starring at the backside of her closed office door.

“Nora, over here.” Kenzie’s voice half-whispered half-shouted.

I looked around to make sure no one was watching before I darted down the hall in her direction. The direction that less than a quarter of the people who’d been interviewed today had gone. The direction I was fairly certain I was not supposed to go.

Kenzie grabbed my arm and dragged me to the side of the hall, near a bay window.

“Well, did you see him?” She was still doing the half whisper/ half shout thing.

“Him? Him who?”

“Holy hell. Just wait till you meet him. He looks exactly like Theo James.” She gasped a breath of air. “Maybe it
was
Theo James!”

Distracted by my really odd interview, it took me a moment to finally register the epic level of excitement on her face.

“Who?”

“You know, the crazy-sexy guy from that movie,” she said.

“Crazy
and
sexy?” I frowned. “Which movie was that- nah, never mind.” I massaged my temples. “I'm not getting sucked into your fantasy world this time, Miss Drama-major. You always think someone is someone famous.”

“Okay fine. He looks like Theo James's twin brother. Happy?” She shook my arm when I didn’t respond. “The point is he's mind-meldingly hot.”

I sighed and pulled away. “I'll take your word for it.” I said. It wasn't like I was going to get a chance to set eyes on him anyway. Nothing about the meeting I’d just had indicated I had a snowball’s chance in Hades, of moving on to the next interview. The one held by Theo's imaginary twin. I told myself it didn’t matter. Maybe he wasn’t a hundred, but I still pictured him in an Armani suit, next to his Ferrari convertible, name-dropping super models and rock stars, waiting for me to go all weak-kneed and doey-eyed. Not. Gonna. Happen. Never has. Never will. I just don't do gaga over guys. Except for one.

The door that Kenzie had escaped from opened, and I was called again, only this time over a paging system, filling the hall with the sound of my name. “Nora Dultry. Please enter.”

I glanced at Kenzie before I headed into part two of the weirdest interview ever.

This room was the complete opposite of the previous one. There was another massive desk with two chairs, but behind it was a wall-sized window overlooking the forest. The top of the window was arched and filled with a stained glass scene. The center held an emblem that seemed familiar. A tree, but not just any tree. Its branches and roots seemed to reach beyond itself into the past and the future simultaneously. The space looked alive with color, full of tropical plants and antique collectibles. A vintage typewriter, an old phonograph, an antique paint box, a first edition copy of Ulysses, not kept under glass. The bookshelves were lined with titles like
Dream States, Parallel Universes and Alternate Realities
by authors I couldn’t pronounce, and
The Game of Life and How to Play It
by Florence Schovel Shinn, circa 1925. I slid the books back in place and roamed the mausoleum until I heard voices outside the door.

Phase two begins
, I muttered to myself and dutifully took a seat in the arm chair across from the glass top desk.

Miss Strange stepped into the room, looking less than impressed to see me. I sprang back to my feet. Should I run? Make an excuse that I was waiting for Kenzie? Lie down and play dead? Which one of the three would keep me from being tossed over the iron gates and banned from the premises? She would inevitably insist there’d been some mistake and that I was not supposed to be here. And I’d be out on my ass, which is where I figured I’d end up.

But she didn’t call security to have her guards throw me out the main doors. That was a good sign.
I think
. Instead, she sat down on the arm chair next to the bookcase.

“Normally you would be speaking with Troy Bellisaro, our department head. But he is,
indisposed
, at the moment.”

It was evident by the way she said
indisposed
, she didn’t approve of whatever task he was indisposed with. I let it go... not my circus, not my monkeys. I was just relieved she hadn’t railed on me for not leaving the premises. I relaxed a bit after that, even tried for casual conversation. “Interesting selection of books here.” I pointed to the shelves. I’d expect to find Monet art books, or Shakespearean plays, instead of,” I grabbed the closest book from the shelf and read the title, “
Quantum Dreaming, A Journey Through the Unknowable
?” I slid it back in place.

Miss Strange didn’t flinch, or even respond to my observation. “Please sit down Miss Dultry.”

She waited for me to settle in the arm chair across from hers.

“My function here at the school is to monitor the physiological and psychological wellbeing of everyone associated with Wanderlust Academy. We have a certain profile to uphold and we pride ourselves on our holistic approach to everything that we do. One cannot perform one’s duties with the same rigor and attention to detail when one is suffering in mind, body or spirit, wouldn’t you agree Miss Dultry?”

Sure. I guess. I think. I actually have no idea what you’re even talking about.
I nodded my head.

“Based on your psychological profile, you have suffered some severe trauma in your life.”

“Hasn't everyone?”

“Not to the same degree. Nor do all of us handle, or mishandle things the same way.” She squinted at me over her bifocals.

Every impulse in my cells wanted to get up and leave. Who did this woman think she was? Leave it to the secretary-slash-guidance-counselor of a summer school for over indulgent rick kids, to make me feel like I didn't deserve to sweep up the crumbs from under their table.

“I have some questions to ask you, of a rather personal nature Miss Dultry. Are you willing to answer these questions?”

Did I have a choice? I shrugged. “I suppose so.”

“I understand you have had recurring dreams for the past few years.”

My fingers dug into the seat of the chair. “How do you know that? I mean no one knows that. And I really don't see what it has to do with this job.” Getting defensive was one of my strengths, but she might as well have asked me about my sexual preferences, or how much money I had in the bank...the answer to both would be none. Any one of which would have been preferable to discussing my dream guy with her.

“Your mental and emotional state matter to us here at the school and we thoroughly investigate all of our candidates. What if you were to awaken in the middle of the night from a nightmare, or perhaps begin sleepwalking?” she said. “It is our policy to unearth every piece of relevant information pertaining to our applicants, and we pay them handsomely for the perceived invasion of privacy.”

Perceived invasion of privacy? What were they CIA? I had serious reservations about all of this. It broke almost every anti-discriminatory, code of conduct, human rights violation ever documented around job interviews. Yet I’d been given the interview by sheer luck, and when I thought about the handsome pay she’d referred to... well, if I had to open myself up to a few uncomfortable questions, it was worth it, wasn’t it?

“Please, indulge me. Tell me about the dreams.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to force myself to stay calm. “Well, they’re almost the same every night,” I said. “For a long time I remember dreaming of a boy with a blue bike, who saved me. Then I guess that boy grew up when I did and became, well, a man. Sort of.” I shrugged awkwardly. “It was more like a past memory than a dream.”

“And you remember living in this past life?”

I blinked at her directness. “No, of course not.” I wanted to say yes, but that would sound crazy. And no one hired crazy.

I shifted in my seat and stole a furtive glance around the office. It seemed normal enough. The standard councilor’s office of a normal summer school for the arts. Except there was nothing normal about any of it. This wasn’t just any arts school, I was discovering. And I wasn’t a student, receiving well needed guidance to help me on my path. I was sent here for a coveted teaching position, yet the questions I was being asked, seemed to have a different intent entirely.

“I’m sorry...,” I leaned forward and my chair squeaked under me, “who did you say you were exactly? I mean, your relationship to the school?”

She looked back at me with cold eyes and stared for a beat. And then another, before folding her long fingers under her chin. “I’m here to perform psychoanalysis on all of our staff. This is a very unusual school, with demands placed upon its staff that are very different from most academic institutions. It takes a special individual to fit in here.”

I frowned and then swallowed the saliva collecting in my mouth. Great. There goes another potential job down the toilet. If they’d been questioning my art skills, my academic record, my criminal reference check would pass with flying color. Even my driving record was flawless. They landed on the one area where my past left a lot to be desired. My psyche. Stained with a history of questionable actions stemming from past traumas. At least that was their latest diagnosis from the last psychologist I was sent to. Before Granddad took ill. Before grandma died in her sleep. Before my life fell into utter ruin... once again.

I cleared my throat. “So, do you think I need psychoanalysis?”

She peered at me through her rectangular spectacles. “I think it’s very rare for a twenty-year-old to have gone through life unscathed by events that haunt them.”

I nodded as a silence fell between us. Now it was just plain awkward. She knew about the dreams. I wondered how, and yet did it matter? What was there left to say really. Should I just collect my things and thank her for her time as I’d done at least half a dozen time over the past month? Search for yet another job? What was one more medical bill to add to the pile. Grandad’s hospital stay had already racked up a small towers worth.

“Miss Dultry, you seem on edge. Is something weighing on your mind?”

Might as well be honest, if I’m not getting the job anyway. “Nothing at all really. I’m just not accustomed to having a psychological profile performed for a job I haven’t been given. When my friend Kenzie had suggested this, I had no idea this was what it would entail.”

The woman pursed her thickly glossed lips. “You have indeed been offered a position. I apologize, I assumed you’d been informed.”

This time I frowned.
I’ve been hired?
But I didn’t even have a second interview. Kenzie said the interview process was grueling. Took several sessions to complete.

“Sooo, just to clarify, you’re saying I
have
the job?” I realize I sounded a little slow, but I wanted to be sure I’d heard correctly. Nothing said insane like showing up for a position on Monday morning that you don’t actually hold. Plus it meant relocating to the campus to live onsite for the entire summer. I needed to be sure.

“Do you want the job Miss Dultry? I’m giving you the choice.”

Was it really a choice? If it were a choice I’d already have the money I needed to find the best care for my Granddad. If I had a choice I wouldn’t be submitting myself to a Q&A about a part of my life only my closest friend knows about. If I had a choice I’d be teaching sculpting and not puppetry. No, this was no choice. It was my only option.

“Yes, I want the job.” I said before she misread my hesitation.

“Good.” The trace of a question lingered in her gaze. “Then yes, you have the job.”

I exhaled the breath I didn’t realized I’d been holding and smiled. My spirits soared. Only three months until the answer to all of my financial problems.

“An official letter has already been couriered to you. By this time tomorrow it will be waiting for you at home.”

I pictured the stack of bills I’d left on the kitchen counter. Never occurred to me there might ever be
good
news mixed in amongst the final-notices and past-due collections.”

Her voice shifted ever so slightly. “Of course, there is still the one condition.”

Annnnd my spirits crashed back to earth and burst into a ball of flames. Slowly I raised my eyes to lock with hers. I nibbled my lowered lip then took the plunge. “What’s the condition?”

“You agree to continue to meet with me as we have today, during your time here at the school.”

I fell back against my seat, my stomach immediately reknotting itself. “What? But— why?”

Miss Strange leaned forward and gave what should have passed for a smile, but fell short. “Because, Miss Dultry, you are a gifted individual. You may have talents and capabilities beyond which you’ve demonstrated, even to yourself—” she paused as her pseudo-smile faded, “and, because I can help you stop the nightmares about the man that haunts you at night.”