[Chapter 4]
I join the first three initiates in the decorated hallway, each of them clad in the same beige harness with ponytails sticking out from the crowns of the heads just like mine, all attempting to examine their mouths with their phones, mirrors, and one of them the glass of the display cases. The first girl, a tall, calculating type with black hair, flexes her lips as she attempts to open her jaw in increments, the little attempts to produce vowels failing. The second and third, both sheepish brunettes, display their growing anxiety as they resist the streams of drool cascading from their mouths with each syllable.
I begin by stretching my neck, hoping to create a little more room for my jaw to move in my new harness. Using the force of the springs to my advantage, I work against the hold of the harness to open my jaw wider than most could manage, and step close to the pristine reflective display cases lining the hallway along side the second girl. I take a closer look to see my tongue encased completely in what looks to be a drool covered metal ring puzzle, two pieces welded to the inside of the trays, and connecting them a third piece, just as elaborate, bearing rows of metal points that move independently from the top and bottom pieces. On either side on my mouth, behind my molars I spot the rubber and plastic anchor pieces, now parting with my jaws, sat snuggly behind my back teeth. Even if I could dissolve the now solidified purple adhesive binding the trays to my teeth, I wouldn't have a chance removing the inhibitor with the anchor feature. It's design was effective, excessive, and clever.
As the hallway clocks tick, more girls join us. As each of them exit the installment room, they become less anxious upon seeing so many of us wearing the same uncomfortable contraptions. Any advantage the second and third girls hoped to obtain has been squandered in place of the growing anxiety they now possessed with more time to learn just how impossible it was to speak with the appliances in. The first girl still carried her look of determination, her surplus time with the appliance having seemingly done nothing to shake her.
The final girl enters the hallway to the tune of the rest of us sucking back saliva in scattered order, followed by Dr. Ashley, who glides right past each of us to meet a well dressed fossil slowly making his way towards the auditorium. Dr. Ashley politely redirects the frail gentleman towards the 12 of us, and with an endearing look of humble gusto, he begins his long, arduous journey towards our end of the hallway. An aged purple Rollator covered in faded rainbow and hedgehog stickers scoots its way towards us, each scoot accompanied by two careful steps behind it. A laminated picture of 4 smiling young children tied to the rollator's left handle swings wildly with each start and stop. Through my own repetitive sucking in saliva, I can make out his labored, purposeful breathing from a few meters away. He takes the time to proudly smile at each of us individually as he inches closer, no doubt a good use of the ample time. Now at the conclusion of his journey, he reaches with his left hand into his pocket, flashing a bright pink rubber wristband, producing a worn handkerchief which he uses to wipe his nose. After replacing it, he draws his right hand into the left breast pocket of his blazer, and with a proud nod to Dr. Ashley, produces a large bell that appears to be older than he is. His shaky spot covered hand triumphantly hoists it into the air sounding a jagged yet whimsical chime. He rings it twice more, his face gleefully shaped to an endearing grin. The trial has been officiated.
Dr. Ashley motions for two women in polos to escort us to the auditorium's stage via the side entrance. As we shuffle through the old looking single metal door into the dark draped side stage, we're led without warning to the brightly lit stage floor where 12 ornate wooden podiums, each with a microphone, stand eager to receive each of us. The fronts and backs of each podium display our names in bold on placards, each in the order we turned in our contracts from right to left from the audience's view. A larger 13th podium stands off to the side of the 1st, facing diagonally. As we reluctantly take to our podiums, I squint against the dizzying stage lights to see the auditorium's seats full, packed with rowdy frat recruiters showing off their new members, groups of student spectators drawn by the rumor of a strange ritual, and dozens of neatly seated university heads, all vehemently cheering and hollering. Phone cameras flash from groups of students as laughter joins the cheers with equal zeal, shaking the confidence of my fellow initiates.
A towering screen is brought down behind us from above, and a similar one is brought next to the 13th podium. The screens are turned on as Dr. Ashley joins us from stage right's entrance. She laughs as she waves to each of the fraternity leaders and university heads before taking her podium. As both screens play an animation around the sorority's logo, large cameras are directed at the stage, and Dr. Ashley begins the event at last.
"Ladies and gentleman, staff, faculty, and students! Welcome! I am Dr. Ashley Blanchet, professor of Biology, Psychology, and Experimental Orthodontics here at Winterville University. I am both pleased and honored to welcome you to our Fall 2033 semester Psi Sigma Nu's Trial for Vice President!"
The boisterous applause continues.
"Each of these brave young women have been equipped with speech inhibitors developed here at our esteemed university, and will each attempt to name randomly selected orthodontic appliances presented to them. In addition to a full set of metal orthodontic braces, each participant will be required to wear every appliance she fails to correctly name during this trial for the entirety of her first year of classes! The Vice President will be required to wear her appliances for the duration of her time at this university!"
Elated "oohs" overtake the room before Dr. Ashley effortlessly regains it.
"Each participant has two buttons atop their podiums; a pass, and a forfeit. Each can only be used once, so think carefully, ladies! You decide when you're out! Let's begin!"
A light at the front of the first girl's podium shines a bright yellow as she's called on for the first appliance. A set of Herbst appliances appear on both screens as Dr. Ashley calls on her.
"Caitlin James! You are up first. This is your appliance."
Caitlin sucks back saliva before bending towards the microphone, her black ponytail slipping past her shoulder, as she makes an earnest attempt.
"Hurssh Uhffliench..."
Scattered laughter slinks through the crowd.
"Sorry Caitlin, that is incorrect!"
I'm at least impressed she knew what it was. Her confidence was well founded.
"Bella Rose! Here is your appliance!"
The screens shift to what looks to be an automatic expander with vertical flat metal spikes pointing downward covering the entire palate, clearly a compliance device, and one not even I'm familiar with.
Bella is visibly shaken, and a bell sounds as she presses her green button, passing the appliance to the poor girl on my right.
"Our first pass of the night! That was certainly fast! Bad luck Sadie, since this appliance is one that was passed to you, you yourself are unable to pass it. Let's hear your best go!"
Surprisingly, the crowd puts forth genuine encouragement and cheers for Sadie. She musters the courage to part her lips.
"Mmmoihfie Eshhanherh."
"Incorrect! Great try though. Let's give it up for Sadie!"
Sadie slides a glare towards Bella, who tries to keep a straight face to hide her guilt.
"Next, Sophia Anderson! Here is your appliance!"
I'm greeted by a an intimidating "tongue-taming" appliance. Two rows of spikes connected by a third interlocking piece between them, not too different from the set we each had now. Recalling Mom's instructions, I boldly accept my appliance.
"Shhinhlair Shhfikesh."
I spot the faces of university heads eyeing me with intrigue.
"Incorrect! Great attempt though. Next, Sarah Marie!"
There's only one surefire way to win the trial, and it's a secret passed down by Grandma Esther. In the event of a tie between two or more participants, once each girl has cycled through every available appliance, the role of Vice President is awarded to whichever girl did not use her pass during the trial. Anyone who comes into this trial hoping to not have to wear appliances is delusional. The appliances are a guarantee. The purpose of the trial is to show the strength of conviction of it's participants. It's one big game of chicken. It's a test of metal. So many are lured by the status and opportunity that goes to the victor, yet so few lack the commitment and strength needed to overcome their pride. I have no desire to maintain appearances for vanity's sake. This trial is a matter of waiting out the competition, and I will accept every appliance they can fit in my mouth for Vice President. Everything from the stage, to the cameras, to the speech inhibitors, to the harnesses, is all to shake the wills of participants. I have no social reservations to hold me back. This trial is mine.
After the first round of appliances, only one girl chose to forfeit. Number 8, Denise, upon being passed a set of double headgear with a welded biteplate, quickly panicked and nearly broke her red button, unable to look at Number 7, Wendy, who only seemed happy she could dodge such an obvious appliance. The second round, 2 more girls dropped out of the running, each having used their passes only for compliance variants to come their way. After 3 more rounds, I had failed my own set of double headgear (without welded biteplates), a set of full closing elastics, adaptive bite blocks, and lip bumpers for each jaw. After the 4th round, with 5 more girls out, it was down to Caitlin, Bella, myself, and Number 9, a redhead with freckles named Alex. I could tell Bella was about to forfeit, having just failed a Van Been Activator, but Alex seemed to have a bit of fight left in her, and hadn't used her pass yet, and Caitlin seemed to have no intention of quitting. Now that the rounds were going by faster, the audience was growing more anxious, and Dr. Ashley seemed to be just as entertained, having no reservations about feeding their excitement. After having failed an Automatic Expander, I'm certain I'm past the point of no return for my mouth. It all comes down to who's willing to wear their appliances for the rest of their time here at Winterville, and how much more am I going to get before these three quit?
