After studying all the reports from the six youth about the security incident in early November, Brother Fred scheduled a meeting with Liberty. They sat in the Security Office and munched on chips and salsa as they talked. The large man asked for clarification on a few items, and then pointed out some ways in which it could have been handled differently.
Liberty had never been particularly good at taking criticism, but she was trying very hard to keep a clear and open mind and to understand what Brother Fred was saying. She had survived her initial mistake with Sarah, had been accepted as a member, and had made Lyceum her home. Now that she was rapidly progressing through the steps necessary to become a real, live helicopter pilot, and was learning numerous other interesting things from baking cakes to speaking Russian, she was determined to not let anything ruin the streak of luck that had been flowing her way.
“My main criticism, Liberty, is the number of times your friends were placed in a dangerous situation in order to carry out your plan. Any one of them could have been kidnapped... or even hurt or killed.”
“You’re right. I did expose them to too much danger. I was working on the assumption that the men were unarmed and not willing to hurt anyone.
That was based on Shawn’s statement that they were church people. He could have been wrong, and I could have been wrong.”
“That’s right. Assumptions make asses... you know the saying,” Brother Fred said, popping a chip in his mouth. “But luckily it appears that on this
occasion, you were both right. Either their confidence or their interest was low, and they didn’t use any weapons. My overall analysis is simply: good work, and thank you.”
He picked up his bottle of sparkling guava juice and took a long pull.
Liberty sat there, absorbing his final words and mentally adjusting to the fact that she wasn’t, after all, in any significant amount of trouble. A smile crept onto her face, she breathed a few times, and then grabbed her mango juice and drained it.
After setting down the bottle, she spoke. “I was expecting you to be mad because...” she began, looking at his size fifteen shoes. Then she realized that she was with a friend, even a peer of sorts, and looked across at his dark brown face, his sparkling eyes. “...because we stole your thunder.”
“Most security people out there in the world would have responded that way, Liberty. This is Lyceum. Puffed-up chests come in with the visitors and leave with the visitors. Brains and hearts come before, way before, inflated egos here, which leads us to turn our attention to a larger question. I’ve asked Shawn to do some thinking and writing about this, and I’d like you to do the same. What will they do next? Will they come back? Will the presumed contractor, Shawn’s father, make another attempt of some kind? If so, what kind? Brainstorm with Shawn about these issues. I don’t feel the need to bring the other youth into this phase of the investigation, but Shawn is the only one who has any sense of what his father will do, and you have the brains to help him discover the connecting threads.”
“Sure. I see him almost every day,” she said, dipping a few more chips.
“He was one of the first friends I made here. We were attracted to each other at first, but the chemistry just wasn’t right.”
At that moment the door opened, and Sister Leonora stepped in.
“Hi, Leo!” Liberty said.
“Hi, Lib! You want to do the honors, Fred?”
The security man accepted the small Lyceum I.D. book from the lady.
“Liberty, no one could have guessed that you would earn your first credential by organizing a pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey party with a water gun slung over your shoulder. But you did.” He handed Liberty her I.D. book.
Liberty had left it in Sister Leonora’s box two days earlier after receiving a
short message on her computer account that said it was needed ‘for routine updating.’ Now she sensed that it hadn’t been routine at all. She was trying to hold in the grin that was threatening to cover her face, but she wasn’t having much luck. She flipped through the pages until she found it. There it was, in the first box on the first page of mission and travel stamps. Security Mission
#23-6740. She looked at Brother Fred and Sister Leonora, and her eyes were sparkling with moisture. “Thank you!” was all she could manage to say, but the warm feeling in her heart wanted to say so much more. For the first time in her life she was with people who could look beyond the surface and see what had really happened, how carefully she had thought out the situation, how many factors she had taken into account...
“There’s a class I’d like you to consider taking, Liberty,” Brother Fred was saying as she reluctantly closed her I.D. book. “It’s called Security Procedures and Ethics, and I think you’d enjoy it. It meets one hour a week, and it would complement your pilot training, since the pilot is usually the master of her ship, and will occasionally have to deal with security problems. And if you’ll get into that class, then we can get you onto a security team.”
“Wow. I’ll... I’ll think about it. My pilot training takes a lot of time, ‘cause I want to get my license by next summer, but being on a security team sounds interesting too.”
“Consider it, and work with Shawn on his problem. I’d like some thoughts in say... a month.”
Liberty looked with pride at her first mission stamp several more times that day. At first she was a little surprised at how easy it had been, compared to all Ashley had gone through to get hers. But then she remembered how many people had done risky things at her bidding... and how she would have been in real, deep trouble if she had sized up the situation incorrectly and one of them had gotten hurt.
Evening light was fading and a cold rain was falling outside the large windows beyond the lounge in the Physics Lab. Shawn had just started his evening shift, had greeted old Brother Sidney who was, as usual, puttering with the lab’s small particle accelerator. Shawn had looked in on the two people who were using the lab that evening, one of them a member and one a
visitor. The member, a lady in Shawn’s Physics class, was adjusting some lasers, and the visitor, a man with thick glasses, was trying to make some sense out of a box of magnets and coils and other things he had brought.
Neither appeared to need any help from Shawn, so he sat down in the lounge to enjoy his dinner tray.
“Um... excuse me... um, I was wondering if maybe, would it be possible to arrange for a bit of magnetic field, um... you see I think my experiment just might work if... if it was enveloped by a slight alternating current field...” the visitor said with many hand gestures from the edge of the lounge before Shawn had been able to eat more than two bites of his baked macaroni and cheese.
“No problem at all!” Shawn said, hopping up. “What strength and waveform do you need?”
“Well, um... I guess I’m not sure yet.”
“Okay, I can set up a variable field of zero to one kilogauss without shielding. We can go up to one megagauss in the heavily shielded Faraday Box.”
“I... I don’t think it’ll take too very much...”
Shawn brought a case out of the supply room that contained six magnetic field inducers and began to set them up on the man’s worktable. “This knob adjusts your field intensity, and with these controls you can get just about any imaginable waveform. The inducers can be set up in a flat two dimensional layout, or in a three dimensional array, whatever arrangement is best for your work...”
“Um, I have just one slight problem. I need to know if the experiment is using more energy than it is creating...”
“Well, I could put an ammeter in the line...?”
“That would be wonderful, yes, that would do the trick.”
Shawn went back into the supply room and soon returned with the needed instrument. A moment later he had it connected into the power supply line of the magnetic inducer array.
“Oh, how excellent! What do I owe you?”
“Nothing at all. Your basic lab fee covers all simple equipment and minor supplies.”
“Thank you so much, young man. This could be an important historical moment, you know! If my experiment works like I hope it will, the human race would find itself in possession of a limitless supply of free energy!”
“Let me know if I can help in any other way,” Shawn said. He didn’t know much about limitless supplies of free energy, but he was glad he had been able to assist the man, as there were still plenty of lab procedures he didn’t understand and many pieces of equipment in the store room he didn’t know how to use.
He returned to his tray, and this time was able to finish eating. Three more people came into the lab, and Shawn helped them with the photometric instruments and filters they needed. Everything went smoothly for the next couple of hours, and Shawn only had to ask Brother Sidney to help him with procedures or equipment twice.
Shortly after eight o’clock the member who was working with lasers showed Shawn the results of her project. The slender beams of coherent light danced on the projection screen under computer control, forming the geometric shapes of crystals and atomic lattices. Even as they were watching, a loud POP was heard from another work table, and then the acrid smell of burned electrical equipment filled the air. Shawn dashed over to see if the man with the magnetic field needed any help.
“Yes! That’s just what should have happened! The magnetic field was amplified by the cascading induction series... but my only problem was the resulting current had no where to go!”
Brother Sidney was listening while stepping over to a control panel and flipping on an exhaust fan.
“Perhaps you could place a variable resistance load in your circuit...”
Shawn suggested.
“Yes, I’ll have to do that. But I’ve burned out two or three of my coils — I’ll have to rewind them first. So, that’s enough for tonight. I’m on the right track, I just know I am!”
Shawn packed the magnetic field inducers into their case while the man gathered his coils and other equipment. They shook hands and the man gave Shawn a small tip.
“Good night, young man!”
“Good night! I hope I get to see your experiment work.”
“That makes two of us!”
During the next half hour, the remaining lab users packed up their equipment and headed home or to the Dining Hall for a late snack. Shawn began to tidy the room in preparation for closing at nine o’clock. Brother Sidney had shut down the particle accelerator and was sitting on a stool, gazing into space. Suddenly, without warning, he spoke.
“He was just using the kilogauss inducer?”
It took Shawn a moment to realize what he was talking about. “Um... yes, that’s right.”
“And no other current source?”
“I don’t think so. He wasn’t using a power tap, and I didn’t see any batteries or capacitors.”
“The kilogauss inducer couldn’t possibly have produced enough current to burn out those coils of his. I wonder... you never know who will come up with the next breakthrough. You did very well assisting him. Come and sit with me, Brother Shawn. I have something I wish to discuss with you.”
Shawn climbed onto a stool next to the old physicist.
“There will be a major conference here in January. Scientists from all over the world will be presenting theories and experimental data. We’re rapidly approaching a new unified theory that takes into account the discovery of ultimatonic matter, and this conference promises to be a significant step in that direction. There will be numerous laboratory demonstrations, and the conference organizers have asked us to provide some technical assistants.”
“Gosh... do you think I know enough yet? I just started learning lab procedures a few months ago...”
“No, not yet. But you have the... what’s the best word... humility that some of the more advanced lab techs don’t have. You’ll work in pairs, a more advanced person and a less advanced person.”
“Wow! That would be fantastic! You mean I’d get to help out people like Dr. Reynolds?”
“Peter Reynolds will be here, and many other contemporary scientists you’ve been reading about and some you’ve never heard of. But remember, unlike the man with the coils, they know exactly what they are doing, and
you’d just be helping them with the footwork.”
“I understand. Yes! I’d love to!”
“Good. I am leading a special class to prepare all of you for what to expect and what to know how to do. There are eight of you, four teams. We will meet on Fridays as soon as the lab closes all during December, and then you will all be on a modified schedule the week of the conference, with most of your responsibilities handed over to others.”
Shawn could hardly quit smiling on his way out of the Physics Lab that evening. He stopped by the cafeteria and used the tip he had received to purchase a slice of blackberry pie and a glass of milk, and sat wondering what it would be like to work side by side with great scientists. Then, as he thought back over his months at Lyceum, he realized that even though he liked everything he was doing, the special events stood out as the most exciting and personally rewarding aspect of his life: Mrs. Hutchinson’s funeral, the art buying trip to eastern Oregon... even the men in suits who had tried to kidnap him, and the report he and Liberty were working on to try and predict their next move.
He walked home feeling very happy. His new home had proven itself safe, and his Heavenly Father was providing him with the challenges and opportunities for service that he needed. What more, he wondered, could anyone want?
The first snow of the season fell that week in mid-November, coating Lyceum with half a foot of frozen crystal-white powder. Snow shovels were brought out of store rooms and boots and mittens became common sights in the Residential Lobby. Even though Portland received little, and that usually melted quickly, Lyceum had a slightly different fate, being perched two thousand feet higher in the foothills of the Cascades. The snow stuck, froze hard at night, and was joined by another four inches just two days later.
Suddenly the gardens received many fewer visitors, and the Recreation Center, Art Gallery, and other indoor areas became correspondingly more popular.
When Ashley’s parents stepped off the train that Sunday evening with a
light snow falling, they felt right at home.
“Look, Honey, there’s our Ashley now!” Mrs. Riddle said.
As Ashley’s father rolled their suitcases toward the door to the train station and their awaiting hosts, he pondered how only four years before he and his aging wife had become parents for the first time. And now they were going to visit their ‘child’ who no longer lived at home. It was all too much of a mystery for him.
There was a pleasant commotion of introductions as Ashley’s parents met Sister Heather for the first time. They all exchanged praises about Ashley, who stood there rapidly becoming embarrassed.
“You all must be getting cold standing out here in the snow!” Sister Heather finally said. “Our van is parked over here. Is there anything you would like to do in Portland before heading out to the campus?”
“Well, let me think...” Mrs. Riddle said. “I understand you can get fresh seafood here...”
Ashley rolled her eyes. It was 8:30 on a Sunday night, it was snowing, she knew they had eaten on the train, and her mother was asking about seafood.
“We eat lots of seafood at Lyceum, Mom.”
But Sister Heather took a different approach. “You know, there’s a sushi place in town that stays open late. Shall we treat your parents, Ashley?”
“Sure,” Ashley said, not having had sushi herself in awhile.
Mr. Riddle smiled. He had never heard of eating sushi in a snowstorm, but he was on vacation, and if a few unexpected things happened, he didn’t mind.
After loading the suitcases into the van, they had soon crossed downtown Portland and were parking near the restaurant. The decor and music were very authentic, and the tray of assorted sushi items that Sister Heather recommended allowed them all to try one of each kind.
Ashley’s parents listened as Ashley told them about her first U.N. courier mission, and about the Garden of Endor, and about the recent kidnapping attempt of one of her friends. Mr. Riddle noticed that Ashley left out all the names from her stories, and he knew that was necessary. But he also sensed that there was a major part of her courier mission story that was not being told, and he had a hunch that she would have liked to tell more, but couldn’t.
Something very personal, he suspected. He continued to listen respectfully, and found, to his surprise, that he liked the sushi.
When they stepped out of the restaurant, the snow had stopped, so the adults agreed that it would be fun to stroll for a few blocks. Ashley was clearly anxious.
“Ashley, Honey, did you leave some cookies in the oven or something?”
Mrs. Riddle asked.
“I know what it is,” Sister Heather said. “She’s very proud of her new home, and anxious to show it to you. Am I right, Ashley?”
“Yes,” she said with exasperation.
“Well...” her father said, “since we old timers are on vacation, Ashley will just have to put up with us while she’s with us, and trust us to entertain ourselves when she’s busy with her life elsewhere.”
“I wish I could spend more time with you guys. I wish the Chunichi Cup had come along at a different time...”
“Life doesn’t present us with opportunities exactly when they’re most convenient,” Mr. Riddle said. “Sometimes you just have to jump on them, and not worry about other things. Your mother and I are not here to bother you, we’re here to relax, and however much we get to see you, we’ll be happy.”
“And besides,” Mrs. Riddle said, “We have to familiarize ourselves with Portland so we’ll know where to do our birthday shopping!”
Ashley blushed. She had mixed feelings about turning thirteen during her parent’s visit.
But to Ashley’s relief, they soon headed back toward the van, and made their way onto the Interstate Highway that would take them most of the way to Lyceum.
“Even at night, and in the winter, everything here looks so green!” her mother commented.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the volcano that looms over the area,” Mr.
Riddle said. “Can you see it from Lyceum?”
“Yes, from the hill on the east side of the campus,” Sister Heather said.
“Maybe Ashley can show you.”
Ashley’s parents both held private fears about what they would find at Lyceum. They had both looked into its reputation before allowing her to
apply, and had done more checking before signing the papers that allowed her to join the French class. Nothing they had discovered supported any of their fears, but not having seen the place themselves, fears remained.
Her mother’s fears were along sexual lines, wondering if somehow her daughter was being supported in this place so that she could be used, her young body sold to dirty old men by the hour for their pleasure. Her father’s fears were along religious lines, having read somewhat about Jonestown and Rajneeshpuram and Branch Davidian, wondering if Lyceum had unrevealed purposes, unspoken missions.
They drove slowly up to the Welcome Center. As Ashley and her mentor had earlier planned, Ashley and her parents got out, and Sister Heather continued on toward the Residential Lobby with their luggage.
“What a warm and comforting place!” her mother said as they stepped inside.
“Hot drinks?” Ashley offered with pride.
“Hot tea sounds good,” her father said. “These displays sure do tell you everything you need to know!”
“Isn’t that nice!” Mrs. Riddle said. “A telephone you can just pick up to ask for assistance!” She lifted the handset and held it to her ear. “Oh, um, hello.
I’m Ashley’s mother, and she was just showing us the Welcome Center... no, I think Ashley can show us everything... well, um, yes, I look forward to meeting you too!... Good-bye!”
She set down the telephone handset. “It really works!”
“Everything at Lyceum works! Except during that black-out week I told you about. Here’s your hot cider, Mom.”
Ashley’s parents spent a few more minutes enjoying the comforts of the Welcome Center, and then indicated their readiness to see more. Ashley guided them across the Main Plaza, telling them where all the different paths led. As she spoke, she was steeling herself for their request to see all the theme gardens right then, even though it was after ten o’clock on a Sunday night and everything was snow-covered, but her fear proved unnecessary.
Her father yawned. “Perhaps we could head for our room soon and save the rest for another time. It’s been a long day, and I’m about to fall asleep!”
“Would that be okay with you, Honey?” her mother asked. “We know how
much you want to show us everything...”
“That’s okay, Mom. Anyway, if I tried to show you everything tonight, you wouldn’t get to bed until tomorrow morning!”
But the moment they entered the Main Lobby, both parents had to take a few minutes to look around.
“Look at these beautiful works of art!” Mrs. Riddle said. “Are they for sale?”
“Um, that one is part of the Lyceum Collection, but the ones over there are from the Gallery. My friend Shawn works there. They’re very careful about the stuff they get, and they reframe practically everything.”
While Ashley and her mother spoke, her father was gazing silently up at the sculpture and fountain in the middle of the room. They joined him.
“Dezzutti. I’ve heard of him,” he said. “Famous... and expensive.”
“I think he donated it when Lyceum first opened,” Ashley said.
This time her mother yawned. Ashley led them toward the archway to the Lodge. As they exited the huge room, the two adults were still turning this way and that to glimpse different things.
Ashley guided her parents to their room in the Lodge, and there they found their luggage waiting. Ashley explained all the features of the room, just as she had for the young family during Mrs. Hutchinson’s funeral. Her father was happy to find that it had a small covered patio that looked over a snow-shrouded garden beyond, and her mother was glad to discover the large and deep bathtub.
After making plans to meet for breakfast, Ashley said good night and headed back to Rivendell Hall. It felt strange to be with her parents, but to not be able to sleep in her old room or on the living room couch.
The fears that Ashley’s parents harbored were beginning to fade. But they knew that every business or institution had its front room, made presentable to the public, and its back room, where the people had to work and the real business was carried on. Every restaurant had its immaculate dining room and the filth in its kitchen, every factory had its suave Public Relations Office and its dirty, ugly production shop. Somewhere, they still feared, Lyceum would let down its mask and show its ugly side.
As Thanksgiving approached, all electrical and information systems seemed to be back in working order, and Liberty had managed to make up her lost simulator time. She and Shawn had already begun to talk about their assigned security project, and planned to meet again that Friday after Gardening class to outline their report. That class, she already knew, would be all about protective winter mulching for perennial plants.
So on Tuesday of that week, she fed, brushed, and examined the horses, and while doing so realized that she had become much more comfortable around them since she had started riding. Admittedly, three short trips on Toby was not the pinnacle of fine horsemanship, but it was a start. Even Blackberry, Strawberry, and Raspberry were starting to look at her with a little more trust in their eyes, although they didn’t yet allow her to brush or examine them.
After finishing with her morning barn shift, she met Ashley in the Main Lobby and they joyfully put their arms around each other and skipped first to Literature, then pranced to History, and finally hopped, giggling as they went, to G.E.D. Preparation class.
Their G.E.D. class that day was a comprehensive review quiz of world geography, with the teacher pointing to locations on the world map almost as quickly as they could write down the answers. Liberty could tell that Ashley was sweating, but holding her own. For Liberty it was easy. The only one she missed was Novaya Zemlya, the huge Russian island in the Arctic Ocean.
At the end of class, the teacher stopped by Liberty’s table as she was collecting her books. “Will you walk with me to lunch, Sister Liberty?”
“Um... sure, Sister Claudia. Do you mind, Ashley?”
“Nope. I have to eat in the gym so we can talk about our routines.”
“Don’t
you
get
any time with your parents?”
“I get to eat dinner with them in the Dining Room tonight!”
The two friends grinned at each other, slapped hands, and grabbed their books. Ashley dashed out the door, and Liberty and her teacher were the last ones to leave the room.
“You did very well on that quiz today,” Sister Claudia said as they walked down the corridor.
“I was a little embarrassed when I missed one in Russia, because I’m
studying Russian!”
The teacher laughed. “Yes, well, I bet you’ll never miss it again!”
“You’re
right!”
“Which brings me to what I wanted to talk to you about. I think you’re ready to take the test. I think you could make much better use of your time than sitting in my class.”
Liberty stopped dead in her tracks. “Do you really mean it?”
“Of course I do! I think you’re in excellent shape to not only pass the exam, but probably get a score that’ll earn you an Honors Certificate. The next test will be administered in Portland on December sixth. That’ll give you a chance to sit through our upcoming American history review, which is about your only area that is slightly weak. Liberty, why are you crying?”
“It’s a long story,” she said, not even attempting to wipe at her eyes. “You see... I’ve been to lots of different schools, and... and I’ve had lots of trouble...
staying in them. I’ve almost never gone to the same school for two semesters in a row!” Liberty voice was starting to break and tears were rolling down her cheeks. “At my last school, the principal told me... told me I had made history by flunking while holding straight A’s in the palm of my hand!”
With those words, Liberty started crying with abandon, and Sister Claudia wrapped her arms around the shaking girl.
“There, there. All that’s in the past.”
They stood together in the corridor for many minutes as other members filtered by quietly and respectfully on their way to the Dining Hall. Liberty continued to pour out all her years of frustration, all the disappointments she had experienced at the end of each semester as she had discovered, time after time, that once again she had to start all over, make new friends, and passively watch all her knowledge go uncredited, unrecognized. Finally, after sharing many of her deepest feelings with her teacher, her tears began to be mixed with laughter.
“Passing the test would be... so wonderful! I just... I just can’t believe so many good things are happening to me here at Lyceum! If I pass the test, then I can just start earning college credits, and I won’t have to worry about High School ever again!”
“That’s right! And I assure you, the test is easy to pass. At Lyceum, we
tend to over-prepare our young people, and most of them get the Honors Certificate.”
They started walking again, taking two of the last few seats in the members’ area of the Dining Hall.
“Are there any other classes you’d like to take once you’re out of G.E.D.
Preparation?” Sister Claudia asked as they filled their plates.
“Yep! Brother Fred wants me to take a class and be on a security team...
and I think I like the idea!”
Sister Claudia nodded as she dressed her salad. She knew she would be losing a student, but that was what successful teaching was all about. She smiled to herself.
By the end of their first week at Lyceum, Ashley’s parents had explored every corner of the campus, looked in on every type of activity, talked to many different members from those sweeping floors to those making policy decisions. They hadn’t found the back room. They were beginning to truly relax and genuinely enjoy their vacation.
Ashley had been able to be their guide at times, and at other times they had strolled by themselves. Their adopted daughter had been able to share one meal, sometimes two, with them each day. They all enjoyed the Thanksgiving banquet together, but to her parent’s surprise, Ashley had eaten lightly and returned to the gym as soon as it was over.
They were impressed by all the religious events that took place during that weekend, and attended Mass with Ashley on Saturday evening. The public inspirational service had an appropriate seasonal theme, and they enjoyed watching their daughter dance.
One last stone remained unturned. On Monday they decided to see exactly what it was that Ashley did all those hours in the gym. They had inquired, and determined that there was a spectator’s area from where they could watch at any time. Not wanting to distract their daughter’s work, they slipped in during the middle of the afternoon.
They were amazed by what they saw. It had taken Ashley years of hard work to get to level seven and the State Championships. Her mother remembered the routines that had earned her daughter the gold medal in
Sioux Falls nearly two years before, and she knew that her daughter hadn’t been able to learn much more until coming to Lyceum. What she saw now was very different, and made her daughter’s previous routines look like child’s play.
Ashley completed the balance beam routine she had been doing.
“Not your best,” Sister Shannon said.
“I know. I wobbled on my aerial, blew my posture on the first handspring, and almost fell after the punch-back.”
“And you looked stiff as a board during your arabesque.”
“Yeah, I remember now. I could feel it. I’d give myself a... 9.5?”
“I’d give you a 9.4!” Sister Shannon said. “Want to do it again?”
“Of course! But I need some juice first.” Ashley strode to the snack table by the coach’s office, and as she drained a cup of juice, saw her parents. She waved at them, and they waved back, hoping their presence wouldn’t make their daughter nervous.
Ashley mounted the beam and practiced balancing on one foot with her arms and other leg stretched out in flight while Sister Shannon critiqued Tabitha’s vault. As soon as the lady coach was free, Ashley hopped down.
“Okay, kid, close your eyes and visualize that aerial and your transition into the next move.”
Ashley closed her eyes and went through that part of the routine in her mind. “I think I know that happened. I was worrying about being off-balance to the left, so I over-compensated to the right. But I never was off-balance!”
“Visualize it without that over-compensation.”
After a few moments, Ashley said, “Got it.”
They went through the same process with the other three problems.
Finally Ashley was ready to try the entire routine again.
“Focus on the beam. Just you and your routine. Go.”
Coach Faelan came over to watch as Ashley executed the one and a half minute routine. It didn’t contain the very hardest beam skills that had ever been done, but it was solid world-class, and few gymnasts, from anywhere in the world, had routines more difficult. The arabesque was good, the aerial didn’t wobble, the handspring was well-poised, and Ashley took the shock of the punch-back as well as anyone could.
“Wow!” he said after Ashley landed. “Self-critique?”
“I’m still not comfortable with that punch-back,” Ashley said.
“No one ever is. It was fine.” He looked at Sister Shannon. “Score?”
“Looked perfect to me. At least a 9.9.”
At least a 9.9. Hearing those words made it all worth it.
Ashley took a snack break, and then went to the uneven parallel bars. Her parents continued to watch as she went through the same process again.
Then, as five o’clock was approaching, Karen dragged herself and her teammates through as many push-ups, sit-ups, handstand-presses, and chin-ups as they could do.
The other two gymnasts staggered to the locker room, but Ashley stood there swaying with exhaustion. Her parents became aware that several young girls were entering the gym and several parents were sitting down in the spectator’s area. Ashley staggered to the snack table, drained two cups of juice and grabbed a handful of peanuts. The lady coach came out of the office and handed her a sandwich, which Ashley started eating voraciously.
A minute later Ashley was warming-up her class and seemed to be fresh and relaxed. Her parents couldn’t believe that she had just completed four hours of her own strenuous training.
One of the other parents noticed them watching the class intently. She turned around and said, “Do you have a daughter who is going to be taking lessons here?”
Ashley’s father saw an opportunity for an outside opinion. “Yes. How’s the coaching?”
“Better than you’ll find in the city. The other gyms just hire minimum-wage people to drag the kids through their program, and the kids spend half their time waiting to use the equipment. None of the personal attention the girls get here. The few good coaches in town have all moved up into administration. Our daughter is learning very quickly, and she tried two other gyms and didn’t get anywhere. This coach spotted her posture problem the very first day. She may be short, but she’s good. Has a gold medal, and is getting ready to go to Japan for a meet, I hear.”
Ashley’s parents were glowing with pride after hearing the other parent’s words.
Ashley worked with her girls on some tumbling skills, and then they spent considerable time on the low balance beams. The class ended with a few minutes of free dance to some rhythmic music, their regular conditioning time of sit-ups, push-ups, and chin-ups, and then reminders about healthy eating.
Ashley waved to all the parents in the spectator’s area, including her own, and headed for French class.
Ashley’s thirteenth birthday celebration came in several short sections.
With her departure for Japan only three days away, an order from the Secretary General could not have made her miss even an hour of her precious training time.
The first section came in the gym during lunch as the coaches and gymnasts sat around the conference table in the office eating and talking about matters related to their upcoming trip.
“Are all of you working with your mentors to get work shifts and other responsibilities covered, Friday through Tuesday?” Coach Faelan asked.
All three of them nodded.
“Did you talk to Brother Carlos about coaching our classes?” Karen asked.
“Yes. That’s all set up. He’ll be here Thursday so you can introduce him to the students and parents.” He ate silently for a few moments. “How are you all doing in the emotional and psychological departments?”
The three gymnasts thought about his question. Karen spoke first.
“I’m worried how it will effect us to do all this training, and then sit in vans and airplanes all day Friday, and then have to compete on Saturday.”
“It’s a problem. We’re going to warm-up and stretch at the airport, and do what stretching we can on the plane, and again when we land. We’ll be able to have good work-outs Friday night and Saturday morning. Our internal clocks will be way out of sync, but we’ll compensate with dietary and other factors.
The home team always has the advantage, especially at international meets.”
“I’ve had a hard time sleeping the last few nights,” Tabitha said, “and I keep dreaming about... crossing all those miles and miles of ocean.”
“Does anything bad happen in your dreams?” Sister Shannon asked.
“No. I just see it going by below us, miles and miles and miles of it.”
“Shall we do some guided fantasies together after lunch, and maybe again
this evening? We should be able to get you more comfortable with the idea, and help you get to sleep.”
“Okay.”
“How’s everything with you, Ashley?” Brother Faelan asked.
“Sometimes my parents being here makes me nervous. And since I’m trying to spend some time with them, I hardly have a minute to myself. Today is the worst.”
“Because it’s your birthday!”
Ashley turned red as everyone clapped and cheered. Sister Shannon brought out a tray of cupcakes, all of which had the number thirteen inscribed in the icing. Ashley’s cupcake held a single candle, which Shannon proceeded to light.
“You guys are too much!”
“We considered cramming thirteen candles into your cupcake, but decided the icing would be totally trashed!” Karen said.
“Thanks,”
Ashley
said.
“And they’re not all that bad for you!” Tabitha said. “Liberty used a healthy carrot cake recipe!”
Ashley giggled, still a little embarrassed, and after blowing out and removing the candle, took a big bit of her cupcake.
“You have a Children’s Program shift later this week, don’t you Ashley?”
Coach Faelan said.
“Yeah. Thursday morning.”
“Forget about it. I’ll get you a substitute. Use that time with your parents, sit in a hot pool, whatever. But no training. Okay?”
“I usually love my shift with the kids, but this week I won’t argue!” Ashley said, taking another bite of cupcake.
The second part of Ashley’s birthday came as she met her parents in the Garden Dining Room at 6:10, having just showered after four hours of training and one hour of coaching. As she had requested, they had already ordered, and her salad was waiting for her, with her seafood platter not far behind. As she slid into the booth, she saw the large gift-wrapped and ribboned box sitting on the seat beside her place. She grinned from ear to ear.
“Happy birthday, teenager!” her father said.
Ashley reached over the table and held hands with both of them for a moment, not really knowing what to say.
“Happy birthday, Honey!” her mother said. “We are really proud of everything you are doing, and we hope you find our little gift useful.”
“Mom! This gift might be lots of things, but it is not little!” she said, eyeing the huge box.
Her mother smiled.
“Go ahead, open it!” her father said.
Ashley was reminded of happy times back home in Rapid City as she tore the wrapping paper and slipped off the ribbon. The box inside was plain brown and did not announce its contents. She opened one end and found a sturdy handle, and pulling, discovered that she had just received a small traveling trunk, lightweight but very strong and well padded, obviously meant to withstand years of serious use. Suddenly she remembered her dreams, of traveling to faraway lands and speaking different languages. She had been so busy training that she had hardly stopped to realize that another big part of those dreams was about to come true — crossing the Pacific Ocean and seeing Japan were about to be added to her list of accomplishments.
“It’s... perfect!” She opened it, found that the inside was also well-made, with a shelf that hinged up and pockets for little things. Inside were several items of new clothing and in the pockets were several small gifts. “I’m going to take it to Japan with me, and everywhere else I go that I have to take lots of stuff. Thank you so very much!”
“It’s supposed to take the rough baggage handling in airports and train stations very well,” her father said.
At that moment their platters of food arrived, and Ashley had to put her gift under the table. Before she started eating, she slid over and hugged her parents. They were, she was absolutely sure, the very best parents that anyone could ever have.
Finally, as soon as Interpretive Dance was over at nine p.m., Ashley ran all the way to the parking lot outside the Residential Lobby. Sister Heather already had the van’s motor running, Ashley’s parents were beside Heather in
the front seat, and the back was crammed with assorted bouncing youthful heads that turned out to be Liberty, Jason, Sarah, Shawn, Karen, Tabitha, Jenny, and Brian. Ashley joined those in the back.
At the first of their stops for desserts and beverages, Ashley had a banana split and received a gift from Sister Heather and more small gifts from her parents.
At the second stop she had a piece of pie and received gifts from all of her young friends at Lyceum.
At the third and last stop, the only thing Ashley would order was a small glass of milk. Liberty brought out a box that had obviously come through the mail.
“And perhaps more important than any of our gifts, there is a boy somewhere out there in the world who loves you,” Liberty said, handing the box to Ashley.
“Where?” Jason asked.
Ashley noticed that Jenny was smiling. Then she noticed that she and Brian were holding hands. “New Orleans,” she informed them with a grin.
Ashley opened it to find a flashy designer leotard that was just her size, a disk of the dance competition she had attended in Seattle, and a box of fine candies, very much like the ones she and Tim had shared on their special night together. A smile of sweet remembrance grew on her face, and everyone could tell that the items she had received held special meanings for her. She read the card, but did not reveal what it said to anyone else.
Ashley fell fast asleep on the drive back to Lyceum. Her father carried her in, and Liberty paged the Security Office and they gave her an override code she could use to unlock Ashley’s room. They tucked her into bed, stacked all her gifts on her desk, set her alarm clock, and slipped quietly out.
Friday morning was a busy time for many at Lyceum. Two hundred and ten members of a religious order were arriving for a month long retreat, a weekend conference of about a hundred social scientists was beginning, and an advance team was on campus to prepare for a Search and Rescue training that would make extensive use of the Garden of Endor. All that was in addition to preparations for Lyceum’s usual weekend visitors.
The van that left at six in the morning, containing three gymnasts, two coaches, and a driver, was only witnessed by two proud parents who waved from the door of the Residential Lobby. In a little more than twelve hours they would be back on a train bound for Cheyenne, Wyoming, and from there a bus to Rapid City, South Dakota. They couldn’t think of anywhere else at Lyceum to look for skeletons, so they just planned to relax and enjoy their last day on campus.
The coaches and gymnasts had arisen at three in the morning. Sister Shannon had divided their activities and meals for that day, which would actually be thirty-one hours long because of the crossing of time zones, into two separate days, each with its own breakfast, lunch, dinner, and sleep time.
She planned to have her gymnasts wide awake during their days of competition, even though their internal clocks would be completely confused.
Portland International Airport was fairly quiet at that hour. They checked their baggage, and Ashley watched her new travel trunk disappear down the conveyer belt. The waitress in the restaurant was slightly bothered by their ordering of salads and other lunch items at seven in the morning, but decided it was probably worth a handsome tip. It was.
After having their carry-on luggage scanned, they made their way to the departure gate, found an unused bit of carpet, and did more warm-up and stretching exercises. Sister Shannon repeatedly mentioned that it was already the middle of their day, and discouraged the girls from looking at any clocks they might be able to see.
At eight o’clock they boarded the huge jetliner. They already knew the lunch that would be served during the flight would be their dinner, and that during the long afternoon their window shades would be down and they would need to sleep, or at least rest quietly. They would eat ‘breakfast’ in Tokyo.
Tabitha had already seen the water pass beneath them many times, both in her dreams and in her imagination during the therapy she and Sister Shannon had done together. It would be the first trans-Pacific flight for all three girls.
It would also be the first time in twelve years that more than one gymnast from the United States had been invited to compete at the Chunichi Cup.
Perhaps they had been invited because the organizers were sure they didn’t
have a chance against the European and Asian competition.
All three gymnasts were as prepared as they could be to show the world otherwise.