The Academie: The Academie, #1

By Amy Joy and CN James

The teachers have been replaced with military personal. The school doors are locked. We won't be going home until we're 22. And somehow, everyone seems to be ok with this. Everyone, that is, but me.

When Allie Thompson graduated, she thought she'd put high school behind her. But when a series of violent outbreaks by teens sends panic surging through the nation, high school is right where she finds herself again. Now transformed into what the government calls The Academie, what was once the public school system is now the permanent home of everyone 22 and under.

Torn from her boyfriend, her friends from college, her life, Allie doesn't take too well the Academie's militaristic nature or its 16 foot perimeter fences. Knowing she won't see her boyfriend for years and remembering all she's left behind, Allie plummets into depression. But when strange things being to happen and her brother disappears, Allie realizes that she must unravel the mystery that is The Academie—before it's too late!

Fans of Divergent (Veronica Roth), Delirium (Lauren Oliver), The Girl Who Dared to Think (Bella Forrest) and more will enjoy this scifi romance dubbed "a sweet love story" by Publisher's Weekly .

Mystery, heartbreak, true love, unexpected friendships, and a dark secret await inside The Academie. Click to order your copy and begin the adventure today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tenterhook Books, LLC
• Release date: Jan 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393860273

Book preview

ONE

the day I hope to forget

Looks like a lot of people are already here, Mom called from the front seat of what used to be my car.

I surrendered my keys this morning. Dad said they planned to sell it. My six-year-old brother, Andy, wouldn’t be needing it for years, and by the time he did, he’d be headed to where I was now: The Academie.

Five years ago I started high school. Life was normal. I worked hard at school and made Honor Roll. Got a job, saved for college, and picked the best school I could find. Mostly, all I wanted was to get away.

And I did. But not for long.

Two years ago things got nuts. Tommy Bacher of Oakfield, Massachusetts brought a 9mm firearm to school. In a matter of minutes, he took out his Spanish class along with half a cafeteria of students in study hall. Then he took off running. Hours later they found him under the stadium bleachers with a bullet in his head and a note that read: I hate you all.

Tommy’s Crusade—as the media dubbed it— set off a series of violent outbreaks. Two weeks later, fifteen-year-old Sarah Branstein broke into her step-father’s gun cabinet, loaded his 12-gauge shotgun, and sat waiting for her parents to come home. Her mom was the first unlucky victim, picked off with groceries in her hand and Sarah’s four-year-old half-sister, Emma, trailing behind. Sarah’s mom took two shots to the abdomen and lay bleeding to death till her husband came home. When Mr. Branstein walked in, he purportedly found little Emma crying over her mother and Sarah still armed and waiting. She took several shots at her step-father, killing him instantly, before calling the police to tell them what she had done.

Countless similar events followed, creating a media frenzy and widespread panic. I think this was the beginning of the changes to come. Shortly after, I overheard teachers talking about policy adjustments to deal not only with teenage violence but also dropping test scores and general student apathy. I remember Mrs. White saying something about us not being able to solve basic equations and Mr. Moffet claimed we weren’t prepared to take care of ourselves, let alone hold down a job.

Our country’s solution? The Academie: a nationwide compulsory boarding school program designed to replace our current high schools. At least, that was at first. In its first year, two things happened: student success increased, and violent crimes outside The Academie failed to decrease. The result: even though I’d already graduated, I was being sent back to high school—imprisoned more like it. Me and every other adult under age 23.

Should be nice to see all your old friends again. Mom turned in her seat to smile at me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the world outside my window. I was starting to lose it. I’d already told her a dozen times that I didn’t care about seeing anyone from high school again. She wasn’t listening.

As huge supporters of The Academie, my parents ignored anything I said against it. I guess they believed I’d jump on board with it all once I was part of it—like my sixteen-year-old brother, Matt, had done.

I was certain they were wrong.

When Dad stopped the car, I started to feel really sick. He and Mom exited gaily, and Mom opened my door as Dad went to the trunk to grab my things.

Come on, Allie, Mom sang from the doorway.

I sat there, paralyzed. It felt as though they’d brought me to the threshold to hell. I can’t do it. I can’t go back in there. Especially now . . . like this.

Come on, Allie. Her tone had changed, and I could tell she was losing her patience.

I couldn’t move.

Alathea Rose! You get out of that car this instant!

Does she know I’m nineteen? Does she know this is still my car?

Allie, Dad said, now standing beside her, What kind of an example are you setting for your brother?

Andy shifted uncomfortably beside me.

I wanted to move to comfort him, but instead, I just sat there, trying to make sense of it all. Was this really happening?

Fine! Mom snapped. "I’ll go get an officer, and they can get you out!"

She knew me too well. There was no way I was going to let them make a spectacle of me. I grabbed the trash bag she kept in the car to keep her vehicle tidy and pulled myself from the car.

What’s that for? Mom asked, motioning to the bag.

I’m taking it for when I vomit.

She rolled her eyes.

Dad had set the small bag of personal items The Academie allowed me to have on the ground. My stomach churned as I grabbed them. It all seemed so final. And somehow, they were okay with it. We should have been hugging, but I was having trouble even looking at them.

A gentle hand pulled my sleeve. I turned to find Andy, his little boy eyes filling with tears. I set the bag back on the ground and bent down so we could be eye-level. It’s going to be okay, I said, rubbing his head.

He put his arms tightly around my neck, and I felt his body shake as the tears heaved through him. That’s when I lost it. It’s going to be okay, I told myself.

We stayed like that for I don’t know how long. I wanted it to last forever. It was what I needed: his soft little body safe in my arms where all the meanness of the world could never touch us.

The kids are lining up, Allie, Mom said impatiently.

Kids, I thought. She was part of the problem.

My head ached and my face felt puffy as I stood again and attempted to wipe the tears away.

Mom swooped in and gave me a hug, and Dad followed her lead. Their hugs were hurried, stiff and uncomfortable, but in their defense, they had ever been the cuddly type.

If Bryan were here. . . .

Could you at least take care of the flowers Bryan gave me? I asked Mom.

They are cut flowers, Allie. They won’t last another week.

You could dry them out.

Honey, they aren’t going to be any good.

My body felt heavy. It was an effort to pick up my small bag.

Say hello to Matthew, Mom said. My eyes were on the ground, but I could hear the smile in her tone. It cut through me, deepening my anger and sorrow. How could they have become part of something I so despised so much?

I took one glance back at Andy, wishing I could run back to that hug, or better: grab him up and run us both away from here. He gave me a little wave, and tears welled in my own eyes as I waved back.

Then I turned, took a deep breath and one last look around at the outside world, and walked toward my future home.

TWO

ruby

The sinking feeling in my stomach renewed itself. The ancient stone building looked the same as I remembered, but the sixteen-foot barbed-wire prison fences around the perimeter and guard shack by the drive reminded me that this was no longer Grant High School: Home of the Angry Bees.

A line had formed at the school entrance, and I looked ahead to see what the hold-up was. But given my size, I couldn’t see anything.

What are we waiting for? I asked the girl ahead of me.

She turned and I could see I wasn’t the only one who’d been taking this hard. Her eyes were swollen and her voice was tight as she answered. I think they’re collecting papers.

I started to rummage in my bag. Weeks ago I’d been given extensive paperwork to complete and was told to bring a copy of my social security card and birth certificate.

The girl in front of me sniffed. I wanted to say something, but I kept quiet. Sometimes you just need to be alone to cry.

I watched as she tried to wipe the tears away, and I reached into my bag again, rummaging about until I came upon a pack of tissues. Here, I said, holding them out to her.

Thanks, she answered, accepting the pack. She wiped her face and blew her nose. Sorry . . . I’m just . . .

No, it’s fine. Really, I understand.

I have a daughter, Charlotte, she answered.

Oh, I said, surprised.

How old is she? It seemed like a nice enough way to make conversation. Apparently, it was not the right thing to say.

Tears started down her cheeks. Five days.

Five days?

She brushed a red curl from her face.

I was still shaking my head in disbelief. Then I realized my mouth was open. I can’t believe that. Couldn’t they give you some sort of a waiver?

She shook her head. I asked. I even provided research—proof of why it was better for Charlotte if I stayed with her for at least the first few weeks. She wiped an eye. "I was denied. If they make exceptions for one, they’ll have to make exceptions for all," she said in a mocking tone.

They’re bastards, I said as the line moved forward.

She appeared as relieved as I was to find someone who was not an Academie supporter. They were surprisingly rare. I’m Ruby, she said, trying to pull herself together.

Allie, I replied.

I stuck my hand into my pocket and pulled out the itinerary I’d crammed into it this morning. I smoothed the paper just enough to see where we were headed.

9:00 a.m. New Student Orientation—Gymnasium

As we reached the door, we were met by Academie personnel in full military regalia. Welcome home, I thought.

Papers, one officer said, as two others relieved us of our personal affects. There was no doubt that our bags would be searched before being taken who knows where. My picture of Bryan is as good as gone. . . .

Reluctantly, I followed the mass of people heading for the gymnasium. Ruby walked alongside me. We moved along slowly, as others quickly bustled by.

As I expected, the gymnasium was packed. How The Academie planned to join my class of about five hundred as well as the two classes above mine with the current enrollment of high school students was beyond me. They claimed they had it under control.

Groups were scattered here and there throughout the bleachers. People seemed to have found each other and reformed their old cliques. It should have felt like a reunion, but all I could think was: I thought this part of my life was over.

I’m thinking about a seat up there, I told Ruby as I pointed to the top left side of the bleachers.

She nodded. I’ll follow you.

We climbed to the top and sat down. A man of medium stature, dimpled skin, and graying hair cleared his throat at the podium, and I reluctantly turned to listen.

Welcome, new students. Not him again. I recognized the guy from my brother, Matt’s orientation. He’d frustrated me then by not giving out any useful information. As you may already know, I am Major Robert Gray of Academie facility #214. He paused and looked around. Life here will probably be very different for you than how you have come to know it so far. . . .

I can’t listen to this. How am I going to survive the next three years? How will I keep from going insane?

I glanced around the room. A few familiar faces caught my eye. There were a surprising number I didn’t recognize. Then again, there were a surprising number I didn’t recognize at graduation.

I glanced to the doors. The ones on the far side—which used to lead outside—had been closed off. I turned to look back at where we’d come in. Armed guards lined the gym entry.

No escape.

After what seemed an eternity, Major Dimpled stopped babbling and we were dismissed. Ruby and I stood along with the rest of the auditorium, and given the fact that we were in the back, it quickly became clear we wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.

So, that was enlightening, Ruby said sarcastically. Her eyes were still swollen and her face blotchy from crying, but the tears seemed to have subsided for now.

I zoned out. Anything interesting?

Not really. Did you hear the part about the student survey?

No. What?

Supposedly, 98% of students claim to love The Academie and think it’s one of the best things that’s happened to them. She rolled her eyes.

You’re kidding? I shook my head. That can’t be true. I thought they must be lying, but then I thought about my friends back at college. Several actually looked forward to joining The Academie. And the one time I’d visited my brother, Matt, his loyalties were too obvious. Traitor.

Yeah, I don’t think I’ll be among that 98%, Ruby said as she stood. It looks like the crowd is clearing. I guess we better head to Medical.

Oh no! Is that next? I pulled out my itinerary again.

10:00 a.m. Health Evaluation—Medical Bay

I had forgotten all about it. I’d seen it on the schedule when it arrived in the mail and lashed out at my parents about it.

I don’t understand why we have to go through this when I just had an exam and a bunch of shots a year ago to start college. Why can’t The Academie just look over those records?

Tell me about it, Ruby said. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been to the doctor in the last nine months. Tell me those records aren’t current. She shook her head.

How are they going to get all of us through there now anyway? I asked. There must be fifteen hundred people here.

As if on cue, Major Dimpled was back at the podium. There are a lot of you to get through the medical bay and a long line has already formed as a result. I encourage you to take a seat here, and we will let you know when the line has shortened.

Ruby and I looked at each other, annoyed, and sat back down.

So, how long ago did you graduate? I asked.

Two years ago.

You?

A year ago.

College?

Yeah. Westfield, down by Dayton, I said.

Oh, right. Yeah, a friend of mine thought about going there. I went to Brandon University. That’s where I met my daughter’s father. I was planning to go back to school after the baby was born. My mom said she’d watch Charlotte. But then, well, you know, we found out about the new Academie age guidelines.

I wanted to ask if her daughter’s father was here too, but judging by the fact that she was sitting alone when I met her, I was guessing that’d be a ‘no.’

I was going to transfer to Brandon, actually, I said. I had my acceptance and everything. Then I found out that I had to come here instead.

Sounds like you were almost as thrilled as I was. Her eyebrows rose with a half-smile.

"Oh yeah, thrilled. I thought I had it bad though; I’m so sorry for you."

"She was a surprise; you know, Charlotte. At first I panicked. Here I was, with over half my college education still ahead of me and a baby on the way. It wasn’t the way I’d planned things.

"Oh, and the father freaked when I told him. That was it. It was over. He didn’t want to have anything to do with me—let alone her. I couldn’t believe it.

At first I was so upset; I felt so alone. And then, as she continued to grow and the due date got closer, I felt different. And I knew somehow that it all was going to be okay, that I’d figure something out—a way to raise her and finish college to create a future for both of us.

I smiled. I’d always thought I was a strong person, but listening to her, I wondered if I really was. She seemed to exude a strength I could only hope that others saw in me.

Of course, it helped that my parents were really supportive. My dad was pretty quiet about it at first, and I thought maybe he was really disappointed in me. But my mom, she was concerned, but she was so happy to know that she had a grandchild on the way. It may have helped that Derek—the father—was such a jerk. I think Mom felt bad for me and that made her want to help me even more. She said she’d be there to help with whatever I needed. And she was. And now, she’s out there, taking care of my little girl. Her eyes refilled, and I knew that soon the silent tears would be drifting down her cheeks again.

I didn’t know what to say except: I hate this place.

She managed a small smile that seemed to say, ‘thank you.’

"So how do they all seem to be okay with it?" I asked, looking at the droves of people waiting to be herded off to the medical bay.

I really don’t know, she answered, looking around. She pulled out another tissue and wiped a stray tear. "So, why do you hate it so much?"

It was a valid question. Her reason was obvious, but mine couldn’t be. Well, what’s not to hate? Having my rights taken away, being sent back to this hell-hole I never thought I’d have to step foot in again, being stuck here until I’m twenty-two? I thought graduating meant I was done with high school. I sighed before adding, Oh yeah, and they brainwashed my younger brother.

It was the first time I’d said or even thought it, but as I did, I knew it was how I really felt. The Academie took my wonderful, perfect brother and messed with his head so he didn’t care about anything he used to anymore. He certainly didn’t seem to care about me.

What do you mean?

I came to visit him—months ago already, but it wasn’t that long after he’d been here, and he was a totally different person. Disgust filled me as I realized the truth: He was a jerk.

Wow. So I guess you’re not excited to see him now then, huh?

No. Well—I don’t know. I miss him, but I don’t want to see him like that again. I was surprised at my own words—not just the revelation they brought me but because I was opening up so much with someone I’d just met. But I felt comfortable with Ruby. Somehow, I felt safe telling her things.

I thought about telling her about Bryan, but it was too complicated to explain, and something I certainly didn’t want to share with all of these people around. If anyone found out, he and his parents could be serious trouble.

Major Dimpled interrupted over the loud speaker again. The line seems to have died down, so you are welcome to proceed to the medical bay at this time.

THREE

streptencoholitis

As expected, the line for the medical bay was still long. So what were you studying in college? I asked Ruby as we joined the herd.

Biology.

Really? Oh man, I could have used your help a few months ago.

She smiled. "What about you?

Oh, I have no idea. I keep trying things out, but nothing seems right. Maybe I’m too picky. I’d just like to find something I enjoy.

No, I agree. If we’re going to be doing it for the rest of our lives, we better like it, right?

Exactly! It was like she was reading my mind. If making friends were always this easy, I’d have a million of them by now.

The line stepped forward, and we moved along with it. I suddenly felt this eerie reminder of my last conversation with my grandma and a show I’d seen once on the History Channel. The program included clips of old black and white films showing lines of prisoners slowly moving forward to meet their demise in gas chambers. I wondered why they didn’t resist or run away, but many, they said, had no idea what was inside the building they were about to enter...

These thoughts entered by mind and just as quickly I brushed them away. Certainly what I was experiencing was nothing like that. I silently apologized to the deceased and their families.

"So do you have any idea where we’re