The Ferry Arrival
The ferry arrived on time, and somehow, I managed to end up behind the crowd of students getting off. Once I disembarked, only a few students and staff loitered in the area. It seemed everyone had headed in the direction of the school, so I followed suit.
Prior to coming to Barbados, I had read a lot about the country online—more specifically, about the International School for Cheaters. It was a school for students who had a natural or trained ability to cheat, particularly on exams, but also in areas like sports. It was built on a 200-acre island named Culpeper, about four miles off the coast of Barbados.
Surprisingly, I wasn't able to find much else about the school. I figured an institution like this would be well-known online, but somehow, it wasn't.
As I walked along the street, I immediately noticed the number of students around me. By simple logic, if a ferry arrives at a port and the passengers disembark, they will naturally populate the area. Still, I think the sheer number of students was due to the school's size.
About 1,800 students attend the ISC, broken down into three sections. I was part of Section A. This many students likely contributed to the island's town-like vibe. There were convenience stores, supermarkets, salons—almost every kind of necessity a student might need.
But that wasn't the only reason for the town-like atmosphere. The school prohibited students from leaving the campus during the semester. To compensate for this, they likely provided these businesses for student use.
Thinking about all of this reminded me that I needed a toothbrush. It was a weird recollection, but it made sense, since I had been thinking about stores. I often wonder why my brain works like that.
Conveniently, I stopped walking right in front of a mini-mart, so I went inside.
Except for one guard posted at the entrance, the place lacked any staff. There were self-checkout machines instead of cashiers. The aisles were filled with everything you could think of, but something stood out.
The items on the shelves—whether snacks or cleaning products—were sorted into different categories. For instance, bleach was packed on the bottom shelf, and a sticker labeled the section "Fair Standing." In other places, the stickers read "Excellent Standing." There were no price tags or any indication of cost.
When I found the toothbrushes, it was the same setup. There were four different brands, each in a different category. I chose the one from the "Good Standing" section because it had soft bristles. Interestingly, the one in the "Bad Standing" category had hard bristles.
I didn't intend to buy anything else, so I proceeded to the self-checkout, assuming I'd see the price there. But to no avail. There were no options to use my card or phone, and I still couldn't figure out the price.
"Excuse me, are you a new student?"
A female voice came from behind me. I turned around and saw a girl about the same height as me.
"Yes," I replied.
"You're trying to cash that, right?"
I nodded.
"At this school, you don't use cash. What you can buy is based on your academic standing." She took out her phone and showed me the screen. "See, look. I'm an Excellent Standing student."
Her phone displayed a status window with her name, academic standing, and a range of other information.
"Oh, I didn't know that," I said.
"So if you want to buy something, pick an item that matches your academic standing and scan it." She waved her phone over the self-checkout and purchased the toothbrush.
"Thanks."
"No problem. What's your name, by the way?" she asked.
"Jaden."
She had a surprised expression when I said that, but she quickly shrugged it off.
"Oh, okay. I'm Jasmine."
"You're a fourth-year?"
"No, third."
"Oh. Well, thanks for helping me."
"Mhm, no problem," she answered as I walked off. Jasmine seemed nice. She helped me and even bought the item for me. I wondered when I'd be able to return the favor.
On my way to the dorms, I couldn't help but wonder what the purchasing system meant. Was the school trying to see if we could cheat our way to riches? Or was it just incredibly hard to maintain a good academic standing?
Was this a sign that I wouldn't be able to live up to the school's expectations? That I'd fail or drop out in no time? There's a chance I was overthinking it. I assumed I'd hear more about it at school the next day.
Finally, I reached the male dormitory. It was a five-story building that towered over the rest of the island. The place was mostly empty; only two boys who seemed to know each other were coming out as I entered.
Inside, I noticed two girls chatting in the lobby, along with a male and female who had just exited the elevator. After the receptionist gave me my key card, I took the elevator to the fourth floor.
On the way up, I checked my email for any info about the status window, but I found nothing—only a few welcome notices and an email telling us to collect our ID cards at the main administration building.
Luckily, I didn't have to walk far. My keycard said "Room 108." I slid it through the lock, and the light turned green, allowing me to open the door.
It was a small but fully self-contained room. It had a bathroom, a living room that doubled as my bedroom, and even a small kitchen.
My suitcase and other bags were already inside, neatly placed beside my bed. It seemed the school had delivered them to my room. After putting everything in its place, I threw myself onto the neatly made bed and thought about what my first day of school would be like.
Would everyone be secretive about their cheating methods, or would we all be sharing tips and tricks before the teacher even arrived?
I didn't have much to do. I had no friends, no family, and no one I knew at the school—but I hoped that would change starting tomorrow.
- - -
5:00 PM – Ferry Arrival
A dark-skinned, chubby man in a suit approached his office window and stared at the students walking by on the sidewalk.
"Back to school! Or welcome, for some. These are the first-years, right?"
"Probably. I don't know," replied a well-built boy with short, twisted hair sitting on the opposite end of his desk.
The man walked back to his seat, and sat down.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I want to make a contract," the boy replied, sitting up straight.
"A contract? The semester just started, Akeem."
"There's an application period?"
The man grabbed a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to Akeem.
"No. Sign your name, write the terms you want on the contract, and what you intend to give in exchange."
Akeem started writing, and about five minutes later, he finished. The man took the paper, examined it, then opened a drawer and stored it without saying a word.
"So, that's it?" Akeem asked.
"Yeah. Just wait for it to get approved."
"Oh, alright." And with that, Akeem got up and left the room.