It was a cold, wet day when Emma Pillsbury entered Dalton for the first time. We still had to do our morning exercises, to keep fit, but we couldn’t catch a cold so we played in the small gymnasium where we usually ate our meals. I remember hearing the car drive into the lot, loud and rumbling like a steel monster, changing our life and views forever.
It was always an exciting event to have a new teacher at Dalton, our old English teacher, Mrs. Strom had been promoted to another sector. Secretly, I was glad to have rid of her, she always assigned us the most boring novels. I wanted to read real books, Oscar Wilde, Shakespeare, Orwell and Austen, not silly children’s books about the importance of doing what’s right. We were fifteen by now and still reading books for little children, they all had the same message: obey your government, do what you’re told and never fight back; or you will lose. We had those messages ingrained inside us every day, lest we be reminded in our time for reading the words and themes of such pointless literature. Blaine never cared because he liked music so he never read the books; like Seb he’d always just copy off me instead. No one is perfect after all, not even Blaine.
Mrs. Pillsbury was nice enough, I can still see her bright red hair and big, wide eyes looking at me with such sorrow as I greeted her, asking her if she’d let us read real books. She smiled sadly and said she’d try her best to get us real literature.
She kept her promise.
Our first reading assignment was to read a short story by a man named Roald Dahl called ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ and a small excerpt from a book called ‘The Bible” apparently it had no author, or at least the book didn’t state one. It’s funny now that I think of it, how we never knew anything of religion at Dalton, when it was religion that ultimately decided our fate and the society we live in.
The excerpt was from a man named Jeremiah, I wonder if he maybe was the author, but it seemed to be by a man named King James, the book confused me very much,
“But I was like a gentle lamb led to the slaughter; And I did not know that they had devised plots against me, {saying,} "Let us destroy the tree with its fruit, And let us cut him off from the land of the living, That his name be remembered no more."
We were to decide what a ‘Lamb to the Slaughter’ meant pertaining to our lives and our friends. We were supposed to connect the excerpt and the short story to make a main message or ‘theme’ that relates to the life we live at Dalton.
I used to love English class, I had it with Seb and Blaine but now I hated it. I hated them and I hated that I had to act like I didn’t hate them at all. Mainly I hated that I couldn’t hate Seb or Blaine.
It was a confusing situation for a boy my age; I loved Seb like a brother, but hated him for hurting me so badly, but I also wanted him to be happy, just not with Blaine.
I also loved Blaine. Two years of a solid relationship, and I didn’t doubt that Blaine truly loved Sebastian. It still killed me everyday to see them holding hands, kissing like little lovebirds while no one wanted me, my two best friends were together and I was alone. I loved Blaine, and I wanted him to be happy so badly. I knew he was happy with Sebastian and I hated that it killed me inside. I hated him for a long time, or at least convinced myself that I did, maybe then I could fall out of love with him. Sadly the mind can’t choose who they fall in love with, no matter how inconvenient it is.
I knew my hatred was selfish, childish and would ultimately lead in the end of my only two friendships. The denouement from best friends to acquaintances had already started, I shut off from everyone.
Seb never tried to push past my walls; he had Blaine now. Blaine wanted to I’m sure, he was always the caring type but I doubt Sebastian would ever let him if he tried, I’m sure he knew that.
So I hated English, I hated it with a passion and I never tried to do well in it anymore, instead I would stew in my arrogant brooding and pretend the world didn’t exist; pretend Blaine didn’t exist. Sometimes I’d think of completing Sebastian in his sleep so I could have Blaine, these thoughts were few and fleeting but guiltily I must confess they did cross my mind seriously at times. So easily I could slip him something in his bedtime tea, or smash him over the head while he was sleeping, make it seem like he fell from his bunk and hit the side of the table. I always stopped my mind there though, I knew we all would eventually complete, it would do nothing to make his happen early, only take a life of someone who needs his donation.
-
I didn’t read the story; I figured it would be about killing animals for food and that slightly sickened me. I hated eating things that were once alive, I found it to be cruel even if I couldn’t change it. So I didn’t read the book, I never spoke to Blaine or Seb. Life just went by day to day, sunset to sunrise to sunset. There were flashes of joy of course, I’d play the beautiful CD Blaine bought me, but I never played it more than once every couple of months. I didn’t want it to lose it’s meaning. I saved it for when I felt as if I was gong to crumble and complete into a little ball of nothingness if I wasn’t reminded that once upon a time someone may have cared for me.
The next week, Mrs. Pillsbury asked the class what we thought of the story, and how it related to us. Many of the people said it was about murder, killing animals, or something as generic and obvious. Apparently there was a different meaning to it.
“No children, no” she said with a sigh. And what she said after has forever been ingrained inside myself, I have spent nights wondering if what she said was true, what it meant. By the time I realized it, I do believe it was too late. Although there are always second chances.
“You children, you are lambs to the slaughter. I don’t know how I can… how I can explain to you, you small and young children how your life is, but I must try anyways, I owe you that, society owes you that.” She smoothed her skirt and took a breath, as if she was trying to fight tears. Whether they were of frustration and contempt or sadness and regret I do not know,
“You are born into a society where you are deemed subhuman, that means you are less than me, your teachers, and the people you save. You have been raised with the notion that you are here to save people, but that is not the case, not really. You were brought up here at Dalton, essentially, to die. Most people grow up, they go to a university or college, get married, have children, make mistakes, party, experiment, get jobs and eventually settle down. You will grow up, but you won’t get married, you will not have children, you won’t get a job and you most certainly won’t settle down. You will grow up- but only for a little while. Somewhere between your late twenties to early thirties you will receive a letter, you will be informed that you are at your peak level of health and you will start your donations. They will cut our your vital organs, your eyes, heart, maybe your liver or lungs if you’re lucky. You will survive to your third, maybe fourth donation, and then you will die, or ‘complete’. You are not the same as us, you are not normal, you have to know your fate, you’re purpose. You have to know it to be able to live a somewhat happy life.” By Then she had started crying, she made no sound of it, but I could see the tears falling freely from her eyes, she seemed almost broken in that moment. I decided they must have been tears of sadness, she didn’t seem angry at us, but rather at the world for what they were to do to us.
The next day during morning program it was announced that Emma Pillsbury had left Dalton and would not be returning, all the students cheered except for me, Sebastian and Blaine.
Everyone was so glad to hear that her lies were untrue, but I think even then at that young age, we must have known better than to believe that everything she said was a lie.