Pristine

Chapter 2

Some went straight to the table and signed the form there, others picked up their contract and went back to their seats to look it over, and a few others lingered in their pew. Sensing the hesitance of some of those there, our host continued his spiel.

"You might be wondering what we get out of this. If I were to tell you we were helping you out of the kindness of our hearts that would be true, but you might not be convinced. If I said that we had been where you are and know how hard it can be, that the least we can do to repay those who helped us would be to help you, that would also be true, though you might still be suspicious. But if you are really worried we won't get enough from you to make this enterprise worth it I will point out that what you do here will help us practically too. Hard work will be your repayment to us. Getting workers out here is hard and costly. You will be giving us your labor freely, and we will be giving you something you can't get where you are from: a clean slate, a better reputation, and a chance to do whatever you want to with your children. As to who benefits more I'd bet that you do, but we get some buildings put up, some crops harvested, and the feeling that you are doing something valuable here, while getting something invaluable you need desperately in return."

There had to be a catch, but a roof over my head and food in my stomach, without the worry of rent and bills, in return for some free manual labor seemed fair enough. I wasn't expecting paradise. I wasn't thinking I'd be getting something for nothing. This arrangement would suit me fine. I could play at living in a previous century for a few months and then pretend I'd never been here. My friends will pretend I'd never left, and all would be good again. I couldn't hope for anything better if I went back now without trying.

Not everyone was happy at the idea of being away so long from whatever they left behind. One boy who looked two or three years younger than me burst into tears. *What a wimp.* What life did he expect to have back in wherever-he-came-from, now that he meant so much less to those in his life? But he chose the flight back, and I was sure, now more than ever, that here in nowhere-ville I had more of a chance of making something of my life, than I could ever have by returning home, where I'd listen to mothers say to their children, "careful kids, be good or you might turn out like she did."

We slept in a dorm. At least it was nicer than the cabin I'd roomed in at summer camp. Here there weren't bunk beds, there were only four to a room, and we had a little set of drawers each, and no need to worry about bears or bugs. Each of us was pared with another person we were responsible for. The one who was chosen for me was Eunice, a quiet but affable girl who didn't look like she could have ever have done anything wrong. Perhaps she had points deducted from her score just because of her embarrassing name, and I wondered if she could ever overcome such a burden and why her parents would have ever placed it on her.

I dreamt that night that Eunice and I were both fourteen, that we knew eachother back then, and she was even more innocent and shy than she first seemed to me. I visited her home and she invited me up to her room, which was fastidiously tidy. We were speaking about the same things all girls did at that age, and, even though I knew it was a dream, some part of me was embarrassed at how shallow my younger self was. Eunice just seemed happy to be with me, even though she had little interest in boys at school or famous heartthrobs. Everything was fine until I saw her countenance change at the sound of her mother pulling in the driveway. She quickly moved to the piano and told me she had to practice. Her sudden change seemed a little odd to me, but I didn't say anything. I knew what it was like to quickly pretend I was doing homework in front of my parents. She seemed all the more agitated when we heard footsteps up the stairs, and then her mother opened her bedroom door without even knocking. Her mother remarked how she wished she'd been told that Eunice had a guest and asked if she could speak to her outside the room. I somehow knew that the conversation was about needing to put her practice first, and that she would have time for friends later when she was older. After this Eunice came back into the room and said she was sorry but that something had come up and she wouldn't be able to spend any more time with me, which meant it was my queue to leave. When I left her house in I could no longer see myself, but my mind traveled back into the room where her mother was telling her off more harshly, now that she didn't have to pretend to be nice around me. Eunice was sad and embarrassed and became angry. She grabbed a pair of scissors from a pen pot next to her desk, and although I didn't see what happened next, but knew it instinctively. When I awoke in the morning I felt so sorry for Eunice, and was also somewhat scared of her from then on.