Academic Assassins by Clay McLeod Chapman Read Free Book Online

the more I could focus on the imperfections of his face—the craggy curve of his miss-set nose, broken a few too many times to heal correctly ever again; ragged channels
of flesh from past stitch work, his cheeks sutured into train tracks; a slender white scar along his lower lip. Not to mention the missing ear. All I saw was a jigsaw puzzle that had been put back
together wrong. Rather than snap the appropriate pieces in their proper place, whoever had worked on it decided to force the interlocking tabs into whatever order they wanted, jumbling the picture
up altogether. What was left was a face full of mismatched features.
    â€œThe brochure says we are a residential center that specializes in youth offenders with mental disorders and
blah blah blah
,” he said. “That’s a bunch of bull.
We’re in the business of warehousing human beings down here—and business is booming, thanks to you. We are a zoo and you are the animals. Is that understood?”
    What is up with this drill instructor? Had he been fired from military school?
    I decided to stare at the floor.
    Apparently, that wasn’t the right choice. Grayson slammed his heel on my foot. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs, but my throat tightened around the shout and shoved the sound back
into my chest before it could escape.
    Grayson leaned his face into mine, our noses nearly touching.
    â€œIs that understood?”
    Babyface raised his hand. Grayson turned and stared, repulsed at the mere presence of this kid. “
What?
”
    â€œThere must’ve been some kinda mistake.” Babyface shook his head. “I’m not supposed to be here. They got me locked up in the wrong place.”
    Grayson smiled. You could tell he loved his job. Welcoming in the fresh meat.
    â€œOh yeah?” he asked. “Why’s that?”
    â€œI’m not crazy—like her.” Babyface pointed to Nailbiter. “Or him.”
    He pointed at me.
    That stung.
    â€œYou might not be crazy now,” Grayson said. “But trust me—you will be.”
    Grayson pointed to the yellow line painted on the floor. It extended out from the room and across the entire length of the hallway, much like the divider lines on a highway. The slender thread
of paint snaked around the far corner and disappeared.
    â€œRule one,” he shouted. “
Follow the Yellow Brick Road
. Your feet should never step off the yellow line. Even for a second, even just a toe. Is that
understood?”
    Silence. Were we supposed to answer him?
    â€œHere are rules two through twenty.” Grayson jabbed his finger at a list taped to the wall. “I don’t care if you tattoo them to the back of your hand—you will know
these rules by the end of the day. If you can’t spout every last one back at me before lights out, you’re spending the night in the Black Hole. Is that understood?”
    We all nodded this time.
    Crystal clear.
    Nailbiter was dragged off to the Hive. That’s the nickname for the girls’ ward. She turned to me as one of Grayson’s fellow Men in White took her by the arm.
    â€œGet me out get me out get meeeeee ooout….”
    Even after she disappeared down the Yellow Brick Road, I could hear her voice. It lost its shape as she slipped away, until it didn’t sound human anymore.
    THE GROUND RULES
    No running for the fence.
    No weapons.
    No harassment or bullying.
    No hairstyles.
    No school supplies: pens, pencils, or Magic Markers.
    No vandalism or gang activity.
    No tobacco, drugs, or alcohol.
    No outside food (unless it has been authorized).
    No chewing gum or candy.
    No civilian attire, hoodies, or baseball caps.
    No jewelry of any kind.
    No cell phones, electronic devices, portable video games, MP3 players, or musical devices of any kind.
    No freedom. No escape. No getting out of here alive
.…
    They were going to take our hair away. “To prevent spreading lice.”