how hard leaving home can be,” said McBride. “I was fourteen when I first boarded. Filled me with uncertainty, fear of the unknown. This may sound odd, but if you’re able, Will, don’t push these feelings away. Embrace them. They’re yours, and part of you. They’re here to teach you some of what you’ve come to learn.”
“What would that be?”
“That’s a question only you can answer. And probably not for some time.”
They rode in silence. The landscape changed when they left the interstate for a smaller, two-lane highway. The road began to ramble through gently rolling hills covered with hardwood forests. Will’s mind wandered back to the events on the airplane, landing again on the image he’d seen on the back of Dave’s jacket.
“What does ANZAC mean?” asked Will.
“ANZAC?” asked McBride, puzzled. “What made you think of that?”
“Something I read on the plane,” said Will.
“ANZAC is an acronym for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. An expeditionary task force from both countries. Formed in World War One.”
“Does it still exist?”
“Absolutely.”
Will saw McBride and Eloni exchange a look.
“Not even sure why I thought of it, to be honest,” said Will.
At quarter past nine, they left the highway for local roads. Eloni executed a bewildering number of turns. Will caught a glimpse of the small town he’d seen online—New Brighton Township—and his senses sharpened. From there, the road threaded through hills dotted with distant barns and farmhouses. When they turned onto a long straightaway, Will recognized the wooded lane leading to the school that he’d seen in Robbins’s tour.
“Have a look, Will,” said McBride.
McBride slid open a moonroof overhead. The trees were all stripped of leaves, but even their bare branches formed a thick canopy over the road.
“American elms and red oaks. Legend has it they were planted by the region’s first people, the Lakota Sioux, to mark their sacred ground. Most are between three and four hundred years old, roughly the same age as our country. They were saplings when Washington and his men camped at Valley Forge.”
At the end of the tree-lined drive, they stopped in front of a traffic gate beside a stone guardhouse. A large man in a tan uniform stepped out. Slightly shorter and less stout, the guard might otherwise have been Eloni’s twin brother. The two spoke in low tones, in a language Will didn’t understand—Samoan, he assumed.
“Say hello to my cousin Natano,” said Eloni.
“Hey, how’s it going, Mr. West?” said Natano. “Welcome to the Center.”
Will returned his wave and saw that Natano wore a holstered automatic on his belt. Natano raised the gate, and Eloni drove through.
After cresting a short rise, they eased down toward a broad, bowl-shaped valley. Through the bare trees, Will got his first glimpse of the Center for Integrated Learning. The photographs he’d seen had not exaggerated its beauty; if anything, the campus looked even more perfect to the naked eye. Bright sun, clear blue skies, and glistening ivy gave the buildings of the main quadrangle a glossy glow. In the clipped hedges and pristine landscaping, not one blade of grass looked out of place. Through the commons between buildings, dozens of students moved along the graceful walkways. A flagpole stood in its center, flying an outsized Stars and Stripes that flapped taut in a steady breeze.
Will felt the same eerie sensation he’d experienced while looking at the website: He belonged here.
“Straight to Stone House, please, Eloni,” said McBride.
They followed the road as it curved away from campus, past a broad gravel parking lot filled with cars, a fleet of SUVs, and school buses in silver and navy blue. Around the parking lot stood an assortment of smaller buildings bustling with activity, a vibrant, self-supporting community.
“These house our infrastructure,” said McBride. “Laundry, kitchens, communications,
“What would that be?”
“That’s a question only you can answer. And probably not for some time.”
They rode in silence. The landscape changed when they left the interstate for a smaller, two-lane highway. The road began to ramble through gently rolling hills covered with hardwood forests. Will’s mind wandered back to the events on the airplane, landing again on the image he’d seen on the back of Dave’s jacket.
“What does ANZAC mean?” asked Will.
“ANZAC?” asked McBride, puzzled. “What made you think of that?”
“Something I read on the plane,” said Will.
“ANZAC is an acronym for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. An expeditionary task force from both countries. Formed in World War One.”
“Does it still exist?”
“Absolutely.”
Will saw McBride and Eloni exchange a look.
“Not even sure why I thought of it, to be honest,” said Will.
At quarter past nine, they left the highway for local roads. Eloni executed a bewildering number of turns. Will caught a glimpse of the small town he’d seen online—New Brighton Township—and his senses sharpened. From there, the road threaded through hills dotted with distant barns and farmhouses. When they turned onto a long straightaway, Will recognized the wooded lane leading to the school that he’d seen in Robbins’s tour.
“Have a look, Will,” said McBride.
McBride slid open a moonroof overhead. The trees were all stripped of leaves, but even their bare branches formed a thick canopy over the road.
“American elms and red oaks. Legend has it they were planted by the region’s first people, the Lakota Sioux, to mark their sacred ground. Most are between three and four hundred years old, roughly the same age as our country. They were saplings when Washington and his men camped at Valley Forge.”
At the end of the tree-lined drive, they stopped in front of a traffic gate beside a stone guardhouse. A large man in a tan uniform stepped out. Slightly shorter and less stout, the guard might otherwise have been Eloni’s twin brother. The two spoke in low tones, in a language Will didn’t understand—Samoan, he assumed.
“Say hello to my cousin Natano,” said Eloni.
“Hey, how’s it going, Mr. West?” said Natano. “Welcome to the Center.”
Will returned his wave and saw that Natano wore a holstered automatic on his belt. Natano raised the gate, and Eloni drove through.
After cresting a short rise, they eased down toward a broad, bowl-shaped valley. Through the bare trees, Will got his first glimpse of the Center for Integrated Learning. The photographs he’d seen had not exaggerated its beauty; if anything, the campus looked even more perfect to the naked eye. Bright sun, clear blue skies, and glistening ivy gave the buildings of the main quadrangle a glossy glow. In the clipped hedges and pristine landscaping, not one blade of grass looked out of place. Through the commons between buildings, dozens of students moved along the graceful walkways. A flagpole stood in its center, flying an outsized Stars and Stripes that flapped taut in a steady breeze.
Will felt the same eerie sensation he’d experienced while looking at the website: He belonged here.
“Straight to Stone House, please, Eloni,” said McBride.
They followed the road as it curved away from campus, past a broad gravel parking lot filled with cars, a fleet of SUVs, and school buses in silver and navy blue. Around the parking lot stood an assortment of smaller buildings bustling with activity, a vibrant, self-supporting community.
“These house our infrastructure,” said McBride. “Laundry, kitchens, communications,
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