Into the Flames: Grover Cleveland Academy

By Jessie Sanders

Rahab Carmichael is just like any other teenage girl starting out at a new boarding school. She’s all alone, a little lost, and she’s never been good at fitting in. Also, just like any normal girl, she has secrets, hopes, and fears she can’t share with anyone. Rahab is normal...the secrets and fears are anything but.

Despite her anxiety, Rahab finds friends in Scout and Hawkins. Even though her new friends are social outcasts, Rahab feels a deeper connection with them than she’s ever felt before. But to know how deep, she’d have to risk revealing her own secrets.

Another development just as confusing surfaces for Rahab. Everywhere she turns, boys are either flirting with her or teasing her. And she doesn’t care for either option.

Worst of the bullies is John Madison, a jock who refuses to leave Rahab and her friends in peace. The bullying increases and the tension becomes unbearable, forcing Rahab to wrestle with whether or not she has the strength to stand up to John. The only way Rahab can protect her friends is to reveal her uncanny secrets and face her greatest fear. What will she find when she looks into the flames?

Into the Flames is the first of the Grover Cleveland Academy books. Approximately 75,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stormy Night Publishing
• Release date: Mar 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781497752771

Jessie Sanders

Jessie Sanders reads, writes, and parents in Oklahoma. She is a freelance editor of fiction and the author of the Grover Cleveland Academy series.

Book preview

Chapter One

Rahab Carmichael scrunched her eyes closed as she slouched lower on the bench, trying to remove the image of the burning orb from her mind. She knew that the sun was approximately ninety-two million miles away, but that didn’t make it seem any less bright to her as the planet spun around it, bringing dusk onto her small piece of earth known as Boston, Massachusetts. The sun’s flames would never reach her, but this fact didn’t make her feel any better, because she knew that even now it was burning at over five thousand kelvin. And that was just on its surface. She jammed hands under her armpits to keep them from shaking as involuntary images of solar flares raced through her mind.

Hey there, someone in front of her said, his form casting a shadow across Rahab’s face.

Rahab opened her eyes, the shadow providing a momentary relief. The boy was wearing a bright-orange beanie that flattened brown curls against his forehead, and he was smiling genially at her. How ya doing?

I’m good, Rahab said slowly.

You must be new here. I’m John Madison.

Rahab, she replied.

He stuck out his hand, and she shook it. Nice to meet you, he said. We don’t get many people transferring in after the school year has started. Where you from?

Petersburg, she said. Then she realized that he might not know where that was. In Virginia.

That’s cool, he said, bobbing his head. Which school?

The door behind her cracked open, and the secretary poked out her head. She had told Rahab to sit on this bench only moments before. Good afternoon, Mr. Madison. Professor Tenenbaum called to say that you’d be over. Please take a seat next to Miss Carmichael until Mr. Hawkins and Miss Wren arrive.

Yes, ma’am, John said, and he plopped down next to Rahab.

Rahab wondered if everybody at this school referred to the students by their last names. It sounded very formidable.

John twiddled his thumbs restlessly. So, Rahab, you said?

Yes.

That’s a cool name.

Not really, Rahab replied.

He laughed. Yeah, I guess you’re right. Wasn’t she a—

Yes.

Cool.

Rahab didn’t really feel like repeating that, no, it was not cool. It seemed extremely obvious to everyone she knew except for the boy sitting next to her.

He turned and saw the scowl on her face. Oh, sorry, he said, I bet you get that kind of stuff all the time.

Kinda, yeah.

Sorry, he said again.

Another shadow crossed the path. What are you doing here? the new voice asked coldly.

Rahab looked up at the angular boy with the white-blond hair, pale as death. A stray beam of setting sun glinted off a thick steel earring.

Sitting here, Bracken; do you mind? John said.

Yeah, I do, Bracken said, crossing his arms.

Well, I’m waiting to see Schofield, so go find somebody else to bother.

Bracken grunted. Guess I’ll get in line, then.

John shook his head. You got to see Schofield, too? Figures. What did you do this time?

Bracken didn’t bother to reply. He was busy studying Rahab from the top of her bleached bangs to the bottom of her muddy white sneakers. Finally he came back to her face and just stared at her.

She wanted to stare back defiantly, but his dark-blue eyes were like endless waves, and at once she was certain that she would drown in them. She looked down at her hands instead.

Hey, don’t let this guy scare you, Rahab, John said, jerking a thumb at Bracken. He just thinks he’s some hot shot around here.

Bracken rolled his eyes, and Rahab squirmed uncomfortably.

Watch out! cried yet another voice, and a second later two teenagers on skateboards careened around the corner. They swerved to avoid the cluster of students by the bench, but it was too late; they both toppled to the ground, the skateboards landing in the grass. The two teenagers were left in a laughing heap on the sidewalk.

Are you guys okay? Rahab asked instinctively, reaching out to help them but then drawing back.

Yeah, we’re fine, said the girl, shaking herself off. Her long, straight, strawberry-blonde hair had pulled out of her ponytail and framed her delicate face. She wore a red tank top and torn shorts that revealed scars and bruises from previous spills. She choked down her laughs when she saw who else was sitting on the bench. Oh, hey, John.

Jean, he acknowledged.

I guess you can tell Schofield we made it here alive.

Do it yourself, John replied.

Thanks, the girl said sarcastically. Then she turned to help the other skater to his feet.

Rahab’s first impression of the boy was that he looked like a telephone pole. He dwarfed the girl, and he had thick brown hair that scraggled in front of his eyes. Rahab couldn't tell if he was looking at her, but if he was, he was giving her a thin smile like the two of them were sharing a private joke.

The door cracked open again. Ah, you’ve arrived. If you don’t mind waiting a few more minutes, Miss Carmichael, the dean will see Mr. Madison, Mr. Hawkins, and Miss Wren first. Mr. Carnegie, what are you doing here? The secretary noticed Bracken with the expression of one who has found a dead rodent.

I’m supposed to see the dean every Friday afternoon, he said.

Oh, yes, I remember now. You’re...quite early, however.

I’ll wait, he said.

She nodded hurriedly and then ushered the other students into the office. Miss Wren waved goodbye to Rahab in passing.

Bracken took John’s vacated seat. Hey, he said.

Hi, Rahab replied. Please no more welcome speeches, she thought, I’m not in the mood. Especially not from a boy with creepy eyes.

But instead he pulled a knife out of his pocket and began picking dirt out from under his fingernails.

There was a long silence as Rahab waited tensely for the sun to finish setting. The whole eastern edge of the sky was a dark orange and reminded her too much of campfires. Wildfires. Buildings on fire. An entire planet on fire. Five thousand kelvin just on its surface...

Just get here? Bracken said finally, pushing one of her suitcases with a battered Converse shoe.

No, I just like to carry all my stuff around with me. It makes wherever I am feel more homey. She bit her lip. It was unlike her to voice her sarcasm.

He just looked at her, unfazed, and she suppressed a shiver. Suddenly she felt like he knew everything about her, and that was more than a little discomforting. The seconds dragged on as they stared at each other, Rahab getting more and more anxious but too afraid of what would happen if she stopped watching him.

Stop it, Rahab said finally.

Stop what? he asked. He blinked, and the scary look was gone from his eyes as if it had never been.

Nothing, she said. She dropped her eyes. Sorry.

He shrugged and went back to cleaning his nails.

John Madison, the skater girl, and the dark-haired boy filed out of the office. John was glaring at the other two, but they didn’t seem to notice.

Miss Carmichael? Are you ready? the secretary asked.

Um, yeah, Rahab said, watching John and the others as they walked down the path.

John raised his hand in salute. Until next time, freaks.

Looking forward to it, the girl retorted, scrunching up her freckled nose at John. Then she linked arms with the telephone pole boy and said, Let’s get out of here, Hawkins.

Miss Carmichael, Dean Schofield doesn’t have all day.

Coming. Rahab quickened her step.

The walls of the dean’s office swallowed Rahab like the inside of a gloomy cave. She blinked in confusion for a moment then suddenly was staring at a stuffy man in an equally stuffy chair. He held out his hand, and she shook it gingerly, coming away from it feeling as though she had just met a rather bloated dolphin. Dean Schofield’s graying beard seemed to encroach upon not only his lips but the words that came out of them, so that Rahab was unsure of what he was saying, if indeed he was speaking at all.

She smiled and nodded. Yes, sir. She hoped this was the appropriate response.

We hope that in your stay here at Grover Cleveland you find an education and experience worthy of getting you into a prestigious university one day, she thought she heard him say, and then he gestured at some plaques on the wall while making more proud-of-this-establishment sounds.

Um, thank you, Rahab said when there was a slight pause. Thank you for allowing me to transfer to your school. My parents didn’t think my previous school was...um...challenging enough for me. Or maybe it was too challenging, she thought.

Delighted, Miss Carmichael, he said, beaming.

He then produced a large stack of papers and pointed at them with a pen, explaining very rapidly what they all meant. Rahab gathered that one was about proper conduct in the dormitory, one was about proper conduct and attendance in class, another was for permission to go off campus on weekends, and another said something regarding meal plans and points for school books. She signed them all dutifully and then went back out to the foyer to give them to the secretary.

The secretary made copies of everything and filed the originals. Rahab didn’t see why she needed copies of the documents, but she allowed them to be placed in her hands along with a key and a plastic card that she was told was for the library and the cafeteria. Then the secretary gave her a smile and said, Welcome to Grover Cleveland Academy.

Rahab took that as her cue to leave, so she nodded and pushed the door open with her foot.

Bracken was still there, twirling his knife in his fingers pensively. Rahab had left her belongings at the end of the bench, and now he looked like a dragon guarding his treasure, only he hadn’t realized yet that his hoard was merely a small girl’s worthless possessions.

Mr. Carnegie? the secretary called wearily. The dean will see you now.

Brilliant, he said. He winked at Rahab as he passed by her. I’ll see you around.

She was too stunned to think of a retort before he disappeared into the cave. The essence of his presence still lingered in the air along with the echoes of his I’ll see you around. It had sounded more like an ominous warning than a farewell.

The sun had finally slipped beneath the horizon, and the majority of the sky was purple, which turned to deep indigo behind her. Pansies spilled out of their flowerbeds and onto the brick walkways, a bit mangled, as if the students didn’t notice that they walked across them on their way to classes. Directly in front of her loomed a former chapel, complete with stained glass windows and bell tower, but the sign on the corner denoted it as the library. To her right was a two-story, gray brick building with smoked glass windows that looked like it was snubbing her with its ugliness. It was called MacGregor Hall. It was probably not named after the gardener from Peter Rabbit.

There was a scuffling sound of tennis shoes on a sidewalk, and Rahab turned to see the students from before come up the path, the two who had gone into the dean’s office with John Madison.

The girl immediately smiled when she noticed Rahab. "Hi! Sorry we almost ran into you earlier. We just came back to grab our skateboards. Oh, I’m Scout, by the way. Well, Jean, really, but I like Scout better. You know, like the girl in To Kill a Mockingbird. Most people call me that."

Rahab wondered if she always introduced herself this way.

Scout wiped her hand on the seat of her pants and then held it out to Rahab, but it was still covered in dirt. Then she noticed Rahab’s pile of luggage and grabbed the nearest suitcase instead. Oh, sorry, we didn’t notice that you were moving in. I mean, I figured you must be new, since we’ve never seen you before, but I didn’t realize that you literally just got here. Me and Hawkins’ll help you with your stuff. What’s your room number?

Uh, Rahab said, watching the boy take an additional two suitcases. She sorted through the papers in her hands carefully, trying not to drop any of them in the process. Room two-eleven, she said finally. I think.

Scout looked over Rahab’s shoulder and the lazy handwriting. Yeah, I think that’s what it says, too. Well, that’s no problem. I live right across the hall from you. Let’s go! Oh, yeah, and this is Hawkins, in case I hadn’t already mentioned that.

Hawkins gave a short bob of his shaggy head, and the three of them set off down the path at a quick pace, the skateboards once again forgotten on the grass.

Scout talked as they walked together. So, how did you like Schofield? He’s usually a pretty nice guy. He’s been the dean here for pretty much forever. Okay, I take that back, it’s more like ten years, but still, that’s a long time. I think he must really mean all that stuff he says about caring about giving us the best education possible and helping us ‘flourish and grow’ or whatever it is he says, or he wouldn’t still be here. She paused to take a deep breath and then started again. Grover Cleveland is a pretty good school, as far as preppy boarding schools go. Quiet for the most part, you know? We’re supposed to stay on campus during the school week and only go into town on weekends, but Schofield doesn’t really care if we go to Ricky’s anyway. And by town of course I mean Brighton. We call it a town; it’s really just a neighborhood. But whatever. I guess they can’t expect us to get it right since we’re not really from Boston. Anyway, we can go anywhere in Brighton as long as we don’t do anything stupid. The dorms are right over here. It’ll probably be pretty empty since the weekend is coming up. A lot of the kids go into town to watch movies and stuff. Some of them even go home to their parents on the weekends. Not me and Hawkins, though. Our parents live kind of far away.

It seemed as though she had run out of things to say for the moment.

Rahab ventured, So why were you at the dean’s office?

Oh, that, Scout said, waving a hand. John Madison was getting on to us again, and Professor Tenenbaum finally called him out on it. We had to have a little chat about John’s language, and Hawkins and I had to convince Schofield that our feelings weren’t hurt and all that.

Oh. Rahab remembered more than one similar situation from her old school. It’s okay, Principal Johnston, really. I don’t care that Stephanie and Cameron called me that, she recalled saying, just as easily as she recalled how much she really had cared.

Whatever, John has to clean the kitchen after dinner tonight. That’ll be fun for him, Scout said.

Rahab changed the subject. So I read online that this school isn’t really into sports. Is that true?

Scout shrugged. I guess. We have a basketball court and a volleyball team, but I don’t think they even compete. There’s talk every year about putting in a baseball field and rummaging up a league, but they never do. Nobody really cares about those kind of things here.

Ping-pong, Hawkins said, startling Rahab. His voice was deeper than she had expected, and his short words punctuated the air almost like gunshots.

Scout supplied the rest of Hawkins’s words, rolling her eyes. Most of the people around here think ping-pong is a sport. Before I came here, I thought it was a random game to play at camp to pass the time, but they take it way too seriously here. They’d rather watch the ping-pong tournaments on the weekend than anything. Her eyes darted over to Rahab. John Madison, he’s one of the best ping-pong players in this school. He’s kind of like a jock. You don’t play ping-pong, do you?

Rahab shook her head.

Do you like any sports?

I like to swim, she said before she could stop herself.

Swim? Scout looked off into the sky dreamily. That’s kind of like flying, isn’t it?

I never really thought about it like that before, but I guess so, Rahab agreed.

Well, you’re not going to get much swimming in here, Scout said. We don’t have a pool. Or a pond. Or even a garden hose, by the looks of the lawn in the summer. The grass just shrivels up. You’d think our parents paid enough... She shook her head, her ponytail swinging back and forth wildly. Sorry. Personal soapbox regarding the shabby condition of our campus. It’s definitely one thing they could bother to get right around here. I mean, we all live here, don’t we? Shouldn’t our grass look nice and be soft in case we fall?

They had reached the dormitory. It was five stories high, bent into an awkward U shape, and looked like it was held up solely by creeping ivy. Hawkins pulled open a heavy oak door that led directly into a carpeted stairwell. Jean took the stairs two at a time, Rahab hopped after her, and Hawkins brought up the rear with his long, slow steps. The second floor was thickly carpeted in forest green, Grover Cleveland’s primary color, and the parchment wallpaper was covered in gold fleurs-de-lis.

Not too bad, huh? Scout said, dropping her suitcase on the carpet with a muted thud. We only have the one dorm building. Before the sixties, this school used to be just for boys, but when they decided to make it co-ed, fewer boys started enrolling, so the dean at the time was too lazy and cheap to build another one. So the girls are on the bottom two floors and the boys are on the top three. It’s kinda crazy. Here’s your room.

Rahab had already deduced that by the brass 211 on the door before them and was fumbling for the key in her hand. She stuck it into the knob; it turned, and she pushed against the door with her shoulder.

One half of the room was an explosion of pink and purple tulle, shag rugs, and bedspreads. The other half was stark and uniform with a bare mattress on a metal frame, a particleboard desk, and an intimidating wardrobe. A distinctly flowery smell assaulted their nostrils.

Looks like you got a Cheerie, too, Scout said, pointing to the big heart plastered across the wall next to multiple magazine cutouts of Johnny Depp. I’m sorry.

What’s a Cheerie? asked Rahab.

Hawkins lugged her stuff to the empty side of the room.

You know, the blondes who don’t think of anything except boys and clothes, Scout said. You’d think that at an expensive place of ‘academic excellence’ you could weed them out, but they are just as bad here as at public school. Maybe worse, since their parents are rich. All the Cheeries kind of gravitate toward the ping-pong players, too. We should start calling them Pongs. Right, Hawkins?

Hawkins didn’t respond.

Pongs and Cheeries. John the Pong. Ha! Scout laughed at her wittiness.

What if I’m a Cheerie? asked Rahab, holding up one of her own blonde, stubby braids.

Oh, don’t worry, you’re not, Scout said, as if that settled it. Do you need help putting up your stuff, or are you good?

I can do it myself, Rahab said. But thanks for asking.

No problem. Bye! Scout grabbed Hawkins’s arm to turn and go then paused. Wait. What was your name?

Rahab blushed. It’s Rahab. Rahab Sapphira Carmichael. Well, they probably didn’t need to know the Sapphira part. As if Rahab isn’t bad enough.

She waited for the reaction, but Scout just nodded and said, Nice to meet you, Rahab. We’ll see you around, okay?

Okay. Rahab smiled. Thanks for your help.

Hawkins nodded goodbye as they left the room and shut the door behind them.

Rahab sat down on her bed and wondered if they were like her or if John was teasing them for some other reason. Then she got up and started to unpack.

By the time she finished unpacking, the sky outside her small window was completely dark. Her roommate still hadn’t come in; Rahab wondered if she was one of the ones who went home on the weekends or if she just enjoyed spending the night out. Either way, she was glad to have some time to herself. John Madison, Bracken, Scout, and Hawkins seemed to be all she could handle in one day.

She could still hear Mark when he had found out that she was going to Grover Cleveland Academy, his voice sounding deeper through the telephone lines. Are you sure you want to do this, Rayfish? If you stay home I can come home on weekends and see you.

You could, but you won’t, Rahab had almost said out loud to him.

I’ll talk to Mom and Dad, he told her.

No, it’s okay, she replied hastily. I want to go. You and Luke could handle boarding school; so can I. It’ll be fun. I’ll be fine. Really.

It was the longest and most serious conversation she could remember having with Mark in a long time. Maybe ever.

Rahab shook her head to clear it of Mark’s voice then pulled her cracked paperback of Jules Verne off her desk. Her father had insisted that she pack light, so she had only been allowed to bring Twenty-Thousand Leagues under the Sea and Pride and Prejudice. She would have to check out the chapel-turned-library soon.

There was a commotion outside Rahab’s door,

Reviews for Into the Flames

[beccajcampbell · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Rahab Carmichael has never fit in. Part of it is due to her quiet nature but the bigger issue is her trying to hide her secret ability. When she gets transferred to a new boarding school, she decides it is her chance to start fresh and change who she is—or try to, anyway.Rahab does finally start to make friends, but their behavior seems a little odd. Is there a deeper connection between her and these strange kids? She wants to find out but isn’t sure if she wants to risk her own secret being discovered. And topping off that concern is all the unwanted male attention she’s been getting lately—boys are either flirting with or making fun of her, neither of which she wants.Rahab has an intense (and almost obsessive) fear of fire. Just being around someone who is using a lighter nearly paralyzes her. But when her friends are in trouble, she has to make a decision – one that involves facing her worst fears.This book may at first seem like a straightforward story about a new girl trying to fit in, but hold on for the ride, because things really get rolling when Rahab finds out just how many other peculiar students there are at her school.