Read The Boarding School Experiment for Free Online Page B

One cool feature of our igloo was its faux ice block walls. They arched up several stories. At the top, they thinned and met a sheet of glass. The glass formed a dome over top of the school. If the faux blocks were a waffle cone, the clear dome on top was the ice cream.
    Every wall was covered in the faux ice blocks except the back one. An actual mountain served as the back wall. I brushed my fingertips along the rough granite. The surface ascended at an angle and climbing anchors had been installed at intermittent points. I leaned close to test one. Houston had no mountains, but my family used to road trip out of state to indulge in climbing trips. My hand fell away, heavy with the memories.
    Other kids swarmed around, exploring, or sitting and reading their packets. I found the cafeteria next. Baskets of snacks had been laid out and I snagged a cinnamon granola bar and a bottle of water. After peeling back the wrapper, I bit into the oat-flavored snack, and the crunch helped shake off a threatening headache.
    A girl peered over the rail, gnawing on her own breakfast bar. Light poured onto her shiny red hair through the overhead dome. “It looks like heaven.”
    “It looks like an amusement park,” the dark-haired girl beside her said.
    You could see most of the school from this vantage point. The inside of the school looked like a pampered hamster habitat. The outdoor atrium, with its twenty-foot wall, would probably only hold half of us. We’d have to take timed outdoor breaks, like they did on prison TV. When I leaned over the rail, I could see the lowest point of the habitat, the underground amphitheater. If our new school was an ice-cream cone, the amphitheater was the chocolate bite at the bottom
    I wandered away, taking a ramp up several floors. At the top level, security panels were mounted beside the doors. The bulb in the nearest sensor panel turned green. I reached for the lever, but had to back up when the door opened and a coordinator strode through. She was dressed in a suit, with her hair in a bun, and she wore a frown. She was the one who’d visited Trallwyn for the announcements. Coordinator Steele. I blinked and backed up another step. “Hi.”
    She pointed behind me and didn’t act like she remembered me. “Upper levels are restricted to staff only. Didn’t you read your packet?”
    I nodded the lie, and retreated to the ramp. The next level down held a theater, a media room, an internet café, and a huge library. A jogging track encircled the recreation floor, and an Olympic-sized pool centered everything. The new building had been planned to accommodate every type of school activity I could imagine.
    Fake spruce trees had been placed in groupings around the interior. They provided the only touch of green here. Day one and I missed the color green. Even the outdoor atrium wasn’t green. It was Zen bridges, koi ponds, and paths lined with bluish-black river rocks.
    I sat at the base of one of the bridges and dug through my packet. Class schedule, map, meal schedule, and room assignment. Dormitory Malthus, South Side, Room 1024.
    The interior walls leading to the dorm rooms consisted of normal painted sheetrock. The way to mine had an Alaskan outdoors theme: running wolves, eating wolves, wolves alone, and wolves in groups. They all pointed the way to room 1024.
    Before leaving, I’d read that there would be three girls to a dorm room. Each room shared a bathroom with one other room. The dorm door beside mine was ajar and I saw a red-headed girl, and two brunettes arguing inside. My suitemates. Given the ferocity of their disagreement, I didn’t introduce myself.
    Room 1024 had a closed door. I swallowed and tapped out a knock, and went in. Two girls sat inside on the twin beds furthest from the door. I sank down on the unoccupied bed. “Hi, I’m Elena.”
    They introduced themselves. My two roommates couldn’t have been more surface opposites. Geneva was a self-described military brat: