Lynn was not claustrophobic, but she certainly wasn't a fan of bus rides. She was even less a fan of bus rides with blacked out windows (this set off a large number of red flags in the girl's head-she'd heard about the cartels down doing this kind of tactic. Blacked out windows. You step out the bus and right into a six foot hole in the Mojave), and even more rattled by the security guards. Christ, this...this wasn't right. Lynn didn't get panic attacks, she wasn't that type. She'd sit upright in her bed for hours afterwards, staring at a wall until sleep found her, but this was different. This kind of security? Well, shit, she'd imagined a handful of security guards, like her high school had, but this was something else entirely. This was something else. Three stops. Lynn reacted calmly, not looking the guards in the eyes and keeping her hands on the table. She knew the drill, and knew which one of the kids was getting looked over the most by the fuzz. Surreptitiously, she eyed the inside of the bus (A bus, Lynn thought bitterly, that could've paid for a year's rent and food) for cameras. These guys were good-Lynn couldn't spot them. Can't see where they were going, armed guards...these guys meant business. They had the slideshow, the razzle-dazzle, the bread and circuses to throw off the others, but Lynn wasn't taking the bait.

After the third stop, as the bus began rolling on ahead, she let out a deep laugh, the sort of unrestrained, maniacal guffaw that usually accompanies psychotic breaks.

The irony. She'd taken this school to get out of juvy and instead walked into the most gilded cage on Earth. [i]Lynn baby you sure do konw how to pick 'em don't you. Explains why the parole officer was so hell-bent on getting you in here.[/i] Well, this certainly complicated leaving. Lynn hadn't planned on cutting and running immediately, but...well, it seemed an inevitability. It was going to be much, much more difficult if she had to. As a rule of thumb, Lynn enjoyed escape routes, backups, an ace in the hole to play when shit hit the proverbial fan. 

Sure, it had nicer furniture, but they'd just walked into one hell of a trap house by Lynn's reckoning. She was going to play it real cool. No shame in admitting when you're outgunned. She wouldn't take anything lying down-that wasn't her style-but this place wasn't screwing around. Lynn quietly decided to be very, very careful about which battles she picked. If she had to serve a few detentions for street scuffles, so be it. She wanted the students, the pompous prick giving the opening address, and most importantly, the uniforms with shotguns to know Cordelia Lynn Holmes was not easy prey.

This mentality wasn't the needless cynicism of a rebel without a cause-while Lynn had elements of that, it was something more. It was...survival, almost. There was a lot more at stake here for her than these other kids. Snakes buys her ticket, so be it, she heads back home to daddy's trust fund and spends the rest of her life fine. Casper probably marries a librarian and spends the rest of his life reading or whatever. She looked at the others and saw different choices. That was it. Choice. These fuckers had that. But her? Christ, no matter what she did she kept falling back into one cage or another. More beds with little girls without families and more armed guards with guns without hesitation. Fuck. Christ. She couldn't break out. She couldn't get out. She was stuck in a loop. [i]No matter what I do I'm going to be trapped.[/i]

Lynn smiled and took a long drink of the glass of water on the table before her. So be it, then.

She got up and followed the group as they went along the exodus to get room assignments. This...this was a definite perk. Lynn wasn't one to be bought-if you had the money to bribe Lynn with something, she was probably going to refuse you just on general principle-but...well, it had been...it had been a while since Lynn had a room. This would be nice, even if-

Lynn took a deep breath. She was pretty sure that chick was Snakes. Which was whatever. You know, optimism. That was what the juvy therapist emphasized. Let's look at the positivies. I probably won't have to share shampoo with anyone. And there won't be a problem with adjusting the A/C or anything. She stood staring at her card ([i]give me a fucking number, Jesus Christ, I came here to avoid this[/i]) and desperately trying to find other upsides to this situation. Fine. Roll with the punches. They want to try and dance with the devil, they'd better expect to get burned. Feeling an almost phantom pain over her shoulderblades from the absence of her backpack, Lynn went on to her room, looking over the halls in equal parts awe and revulsion. Lynn heard a quote one time, some French guy whose name never stuck with her, something about people being guilty of all the good they didn't do. Well Lynn never claimed a soul white as snow but damn if she was a few shades lighter than the people who had money to burn like this and didn't. Nevermind the circumstances, nevermind the endgame. Lynn didn't have time for that. She went into her room and quickly went through her belongings to ensure everything was still there. Good. Very good. She'd expected them to confiscate the majority of it just 'cause, so that was a pleasant surprise.

She was about to put her stuff down but paused. That...that was not how this worked was it. That was the old way. Staking your territory and then defending it. Yes. That's what she wanted to do, that's what she knew how to do. But this was not that. So, Lynn picked her duffel bag up, slinging it over her shoulder, grasping the backpack with the other. Then whenever Snakes got her seven-figure ass over there she'd figure out who wanted what bed and then they'd hold hands and sing kumbayah.

"Dear God," Lynn muttered to herself, rubbing her face with her hands, tracing her scar as she sometimes did, "Throw me a bone here, man."