20 - New place

Pens and pencils went into separate jars. All writing instruments were organized by size and colour, from short to long and from bright colours to dark. Books stood on shelves according to size, subject, and, ultimately, according to how much Jubilee liked their contents. Too much order, her brother had said when she was eight, but a specialist had had a different opinion - OCPD. 'But if it sticks to this,' he'd said years before, 'then it's not much to worry about. And look on the bright side, you won't have to worry about her keeping her room clean.' Then he'd laughed. And then her mother said she was just special, and put her hair in a french braid, like she did every day. Around the time she turned ten, Laura Hall stopped braiding her hair.

Somehow, around that time, Maurey took over the maternal role, driving her to the rink, lacing her boots, helping her with homework between freestyle sessions, doing her hair and make-up before competitions, and being there with a kind word whenever she needed one. Meanwhile, Laura Hall slowly distanced herself. No more special mother-daughter time, no more tea parties with just the two of them, no more bedtime stories, and attending fewer and fewer of her daughter's practices and competitions. And it didn't take Jubilee long to adapt. Thanks to Maurey, she never missed having a maternal figure in her life.

Until the day Jubilee moved to Rutherford, Maurey had been on her speed dial, right after Emergency. But while unpacking, Jubilee had removed all of her speed dial contacts. It was no use calling home, when home was so far away. You're right here, right now, Maurey had told her whenever she'd had trouble focusing. And right here and right now were her room in the Rutherford dorm, which, in spite of making her feel uneasy, wasn't that bad. Sure, everything was ass-backwards, but it wasn't as horrible as she'd expected. With a bit of getting used to, she would actually feel comfortable there.

She put away the last of her things, looked around the room for any object that might have been out of place, found none, and prepared for bed, carefully avoiding looking at the metal trash can from which the small orange pill container was looking up at her reproachfully. No more skating, no more vitamins. No more bruises, diet, or restrictions. No more routine. But, she thought, if the routine was gone, what was she supposed to do?

Once in her pajamas, she found a comfortable spot on the unfamiliar mattress and curled up on one side. The feeling certainly was unusual. At home, her room was the most familiar space she knew. At any given moment, day or night, she could tell what object was where, without a moment's thought. In her new room, things were... wrong. The closet was on the wrong side of the room. The bed was next to the window. The desk was in the corner. She spent an indefinite amount of time making mental maps of what object she had placed where. This comforted her somewhat, and she relaxed into the pillow that was too soft for her taste.

At home, before sleep, she used to count the glow in the dark stars on her ceiling. There were 47 of them. 47 was a prime number, she liked it. And when she counted more than 47, she knew it was time to sleep. Here, the only things she could count were the holes in the side of her closet. Dart marks, she was sure of it. Whoever had previously occupied that room had liked to throw darts at stuff.

She flopped on her stomach and started counting. Reaching number 168, she counted again. This time there were 170 of them. She counted them once more, with a different outcome, then hopped off her bed, opened the bottom drawer of her new desk, and grabbed her own bag of darts. Sitting back on her bed, she threw all 15 darts at the side of the closet. There. Whatever the original number of holes was, there were 15 more of them now. As an afterthought, she pulled the switchblade - Mara - out of its hiding place, flicked it open and threw it at the side of the closet. Its black handle hit the wooden panel with a thud, and fell unceremoniously to the floor. She picked it up and tried again. Three tries later, the knife was sticking out of the side of the closet, among the coloured feathers.

Seemingly content with her new decorations, Jubilee grabbed the pillow and moved it to the foot of the bed, curled up on her side in fetal position, and waited for sleep to claim her.

'Maybe sleep can't find me,' she thought after half an hour of staring at the wall. 'Since I moved. Maybe I'll develop insomnia and go crazy. Or maybe I already am crazy. I am talking to myself after all.'

She hugged the corner of the blanket, wishing she had brought her teddy bear along.

'Twinkle, twinkle, little star,' she sang to herself, for lack of anything better to do. 'How I wonder what you are...'

She rolled her head backwards into an unnatural position to look out the window, only to see a thick blanket of clouds.

'Stupid clouds. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky... and then you turned into a supernova and went boom.'

Jubilee yawned again, brought her head back to a normal position, and waited.

'I'm not tired,' she sighed after another half hour. 'Not tired. Can't sleep if I'm not tired.'

Grumbling, she kicked her blanket off, sat up and peered out the window.

Her window overlooked the huge courtyard. It was the biggest courtyard she'd ever seen in her life, and it was all green. Apart from a few concrete, gravel and dirt paths, there were grass and trees everywhere. She had fantasized about going for a run around the grounds ever since her arrival there. Running on grass was much easier on her joints than running on concrete, and her joints were very much feeling the sudden change in altitude. She felt her movements were stiff and sluggish, as if she'd practiced her jumps without warming up first. She may have quit skating, but that didn't mean she was going to get out of shape.

She opened the window and drew in a breath of air. For someone who had spent all her life in the cold, Maryland was a bit too warm. But if with the temperatures came those amazing grounds, then so be it. She could adapt to exercising in warmer weather.

Another thing she liked about her window was the lack of bars. Her window at home had had bars ever since she could remember, apparently because of some paranoid idea her parents had had. As far as she knew, she'd never had any suicidal tendencies. And she doubted a fall from her window could have done much damage anyway. A fall from that fourth-floor window at Rutherford, however, would have easily killed her.

She contemplated her body going splat for another moment, then climbed on the windowsill and swung her legs outside.

There was a slight breeze, and the trees below her feet rustled. An owl screeched somewhere. Two floors down and three rooms to her left, judging by the music and the cheers that were very audible, someone was having a party. According to the rule book, dorm parties were prohibited. So many things were prohibited. There were rules and regulations for everything, as if Rutherford were a prison, and not a school.

The wind picked up speed, and the rustling of the trees grew louder. She tuned out the noise and leaned slightly forward to feel the breeze on her face.

'So here I am now,' she said. 'Not sure what comes next. Maybe something good, without ghosts or monsters.'

As she spoke these words, Jubilee didn't think about looking down at the dark figure that was watching her from the shadows of the courtyard.