Wrong.

Because the moment I stepped out of the van with Judge Atelier and the DA (Mr. Salter) was when I was instantly met with a statuesque blonde who was too regal to be wearing her cream-colored pantsuit. And when I saw the large compound-like contemporary building that loomed in front of me as well as a group of young men (ranging from twelve to eighteen) dressed impeccably in green and gold with smiles on their faces, I knew that I was going to be in Deep South Dookie.

"Welcome to Cartier Valley Academy," the woman said a little too cheerfully as she walked over to shake my hand. "I'm Stephanie Valenzia, one of the therapists here. The boys here have heard all about you and want to give you the full welcome."

The young men in question gave me beaming (if not condescending) grins. "Welcome to your new home," they chanted in unison as if they were in the military (that is if the military in question believed in sugary-sweet niceness).

"Uh, hello," I said nervously.

"No need to be nervous," Dr. Valenzia said as she escorted me inside, the other young men following us before dispersing to various places. "Cartier Valley is the main place to be for young men who need a second chance- young men who weren't given a fair shake in life. Of course, we require our students to not only continue their studies but also attend therapy sessions- private and group alike. And like any other ART home and center, we have rules. No swearing of any kind- that's for cowards and reckless. Always ask to leave a room. Stay with your assigned buddy- we have the buddy system in place. You don't have privileges for the first two weeks here unless you are deemed stable enough around us. And in your case, young man, you'll have to be under heavy watch by the orderlies, teachers, and therapists here for a good while unless we see you as mentally and emotionally stable enough to be trusted. And since we know of your health deficiencies-"

"Health deficiencies?" I interrupted her.

She gave me a pointed look. "The doctors that gave you your checkup told me that your BMI is under the recommended requirement for a healthy young man your age," she told me. "You were suffering from bulimia and anorexia- mainly the anorexia since that father of yours placed you on countless crash diets."

Funny, because they always accused me of being either too fat, too skinny, or just plain "meh."

"So we're going to be checking on your body weight as well as have you talk to our dieticians and food therapists to make sure that you're not purging and endangering your health more," she went on. "And do you have any drugs that you abuse daily?"

"Be honest," Judge Atelier told me.

Crap. I took a deep breath. "I mainly binged on Prozac and Vicodin," I said. "They mainly kept me from really going off the edge, ma'am. Of course, they were my stepmother's, but I needed the fix to hide the pain."

"Well, we won't allow you to abuse your prescribed meds," Dr. Valenzia said firmly. "We got you on a fixed schedule on what to take and when to take them."

I nodded as the tour went on. Cartier Valley was the epitome of two Neverland ranches with all the amenities- nine dormitories, ten academic centers, two cafeterias, and a sports and health complex. three Olympic-sized swimming pools, and more. Classes began at exactly eight-thirty and end at three-thirty. Group therapy was held at four on weekdays once a day and twice on weekends with one in the morning and one after lunch. I was to talk to my private therapist (another woman named Alice Carruthers) beginning the next day. And since most of the boys were getting settled in for the day, I was to meet my roommate (and designated buddy) named Logan Michaels, who was the school's prefect and the dorm's Head Boy.

We soon arrived at my dormitory known as Benitez Hall. After exchanging farewells with Mr. Salter and Judge Atelier, Dr. Valenzia ushered me to my assigned room. "Inside is where you'll meet Logan," the older woman told me. "And fair warning, Wendell: Logan is expecting you to be on your best behavior. Even more so since he's the uncle of the dean. They're very dominant and perfect examples of what we can expect from you."

"Don't worry, Dr. Sellers," said a smooth masculine voice. "I'm sure that my roommate will fall in line with the rules just fine."

I whirled around to discover the voice that said that. And I instantly regretted it because I was staring at a young Greek incarnate with skin the color of deep caramels. His cropped black hair was trained with a copious amount of hair grease and his eyes were showing pure dominance. He was built like a cross between a linebacker and a professional swimmer.

Behind him was an older version of the young man dressed in a gray business suit that was as well-kept as an OCD patient would be proud of. And both of them were giving me knowing smirks that screamed We will make you fall in line, newbie. And you will submit to us.

"Wendell Harding, meet Logan Michaels and his uncle Lucas St. Pierre," Dr. Sellers introduced me to the two domineering gentlemen. "Logan is your roommate, of course, and Lucas is the dean of Cartier Valley."

"Pleasure to meet you," Logan said smoothly as he led me inside. "I've heard all about you."

"Not all bad, I hope," I couldn't help but snark.

Mr. St. Pierre chuckled lowly at my comment. "Well, well. Your personality doesn't disappoint," he said before turning serious. "But it won't fly here. I can understand that you had it rough with your family and schools for most of your life, Wendell, and your sass and attitude were your defense. But we plan to break your facade and help you find better ways to cope. If you weren't sent here at the right time, you might have been on the road to self-destruction. I won't let that happen, though."

"And here at Cartier Valley, it's all about finding discipline and yet learning to heal," Logan added. "Ad since you had a colorful history of self-loathing and self-deprecation, it's time to make sure that you don't let yourself be your endgame. I'm going to be on your fucking ass- and yes, I cussed since I'm the Head Boy and prefect and because I can- until you break away from the past and embrace your authentic self in a sea of plastic faces."

I just stood there as I took their words in. Just what the hell did I agree to attend thanks to Judge Atelier?

Wait, I can answer that: trouble. That's what.

Don't even think that this is over just yet. The next chapter picks up where we leave off!

Dedication: ArielMLongee.

Vote.
Comment.
Share.
Follow.
Add.
FAN!