The Paladin Prophecy

THE CENTER FOR INTEGRATED LEARNING

Below that, the school’s crest took shape. It was a coat of arms, an ornate shield in navy blue and dark silver, divided into three horizontal sections, each with an image. On top, a winged angel held a book and a sword. In the middle, a majestic black horse reared, its hooves rimmed with flames. On the bottom, a knight in armor pointed his sword at a vanquished foe lying on the ground. A scroll unfurled below the crest with a date, 1915, and a motto: Knowledge Is the Path, Wisdom Is the Purpose.

Photographs of the campus filled the screen. An audio track with quotes about the school’s credentials and distinguished faculty began to play. One of the photos stopped him cold: a shot of a still forest in winter, shrouded in thick mist, hardwoods and evergreens buried in thick snow. The female voice on the audio said, “You’ll feel as if you’re in a dream.”

It was the image he’d remembered from his dream the night before.

The image dissolved into video of students in classrooms listening to lectures and working in labs. Hanging out in a coffee shop and a bowling alley. Performing plays and concerts, riding horses, playing a dozen different sports. Bright, eager faces of kids Will’s age or older. All wore clothes in variations of the Center’s colors—navy blue and gray. The voices on the audio track were saying, “Life-changing opportunities around every corner … I made friends I knew instantly would be mine forever … I gained a feeling of confidence and belonging that’s stayed with me my whole life.”

Will knew this was advertising, designed to arouse specific feelings: The Center makes students smarter, stronger, and more popular. My best qualities will be recognized and rewarded and all my dreams will come true.

The screen shifted to video of the school choir singing in a candlelit jewel-box chapel. The beauty of the song gripped him, a slow, celestial melody that continued over heartwarming images of a graduation. Proud parents embracing their beaming cap-and-gowned kids. This was the part of the deal known as closing the sale. But knowing he was being manipulated didn’t prevent it from working. The Center made the life he’d spent stumbling through overcrowded, underfunded public schools seem futile.

Could a place this perfect really exist?

Will Google Earthed the school’s mailing address: New Brighton Township, Wisconsin. A rural community, seventy miles northeast of the corner where Iowa, Illinois, and Wisconsin came together. He zoomed in on the town, then scrolled out until he found the Center. It appeared exactly as he’d seen it in Robbins’s 3-D preview: the grand old buildings, the playing fields, the nearby lake.

It’s real. It’s all there.

Will’s parents didn’t have money or connections, and they’d trained him to leave no tracks, so he’d reined himself in. Posing as a B+ student, flying under the radar. Following Rule #3: DON’T DRAW ATTENTION TO YOURSELF meant he had no chance of earning academic or athletic scholarships and the life that went with them. But now, without asking for it, a door to this astonishingly better world had opened.

What if the Center was a place where he could finally be himself?

Will’s phone dinged. It was a text from Dad: IN THE CAR. BAD RECEPTION. HOME BY SIX. TALK THEN.

Will glanced at the time and was shocked to see it was the middle of the afternoon. He’d been grinding this for hours. “Belinda” would be home from work soon, and he didn’t want to be in the same room with her again until Dad returned.

I need to see what Dad thinks. Then we’ll decide what to do about it together.

Will made a PB and J and wolfed it down as he prowled the house. He looked at the meager possessions they’d dragged around to six cities in fourteen years. They owned a small TV but seldom watched anything but news. All they did with their free time was read. Shelves lined every wall in the house—scientific, medical, legal texts.

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