An Honest Lie(20)

“Hey, thanks for warning me about the bugs.”

Sara shrugged like it was no problem and reached for the tongs in the tomato tray. The room was really starting to buzz now as people arrived for breakfast from the main building. Still no Mama, Summer thought. She redirected her gaze to her potential new friend. Sara had the palest skin. Summer could see her veins threading through her arms as she moved down the food line and dropped a scoop of eggs onto her plate. She offered the spoon to Summer. It was a small gesture, but a nice one. Summer took the spoon, smiling, and Sara smiled back.

“This is a really great breakfast,” Summer said, taking two spoonfuls of egg.

“Yeah,” Sara said. “It’s not always like this.” There was something in her voice that made Summer look up.

“What do you mean?”

Sara, clearly realizing she’d said something wrong, turned a shade of red like the tray of tomatoes as she plucked a piece of ham out of the serving tray and dropped it on her plate. Summer didn’t want to blow it. She had a few seconds to salvage the situation, so she said, “Hey, want to eat together?”

Sara froze, her plate between her hands, and then, decidedly, she nodded.

“We sit there,” she said, pointing with the serving spoon toward the far wall. Summer could see Sara’s mother and father sitting together with their coffee. They were watching.

“Okay,” Summer said. “Can my mom come?”

Sara shrugged, and Summer went off to find her mother, feeling happy.

She didn’t find her, however, and after five minutes of circling the cafeteria with her plate, Sara came to collect her and lead her back to the table where her parents were still drinking their coffee. Sara’s mother and father seemed glad to have her and asked her questions about where she’d lived before and what her dad had been like. Summer answered as politely as she could while she kept her eye on the door. Her mother had said she’d meet her for breakfast so that Summer could tell her about her first night at Kids’ Camp.

“Summer...” It was Sara’s mother, Ama. “She probably got caught up. She was meant to start her new job today.”

“Oh,” Summer said stupidly. She hadn’t known. She knew that everyone here had to work, on the compound or off, that they had to contribute. She remembered asking her mother what she was going to contribute. Had she answered? Summer couldn’t remember.

“Where does she work?” she asked Sara’s mother. Her voice was meek and confused, and the woman, sensing her distress, put an arm around Summer’s shoulders and squeezed gently. It was a mom thing to do, and Summer began to cry.

“Well, look there, sweetie, I see her now.”

Summer’s head snapped up, and lo and behold, her mother stood in the doorway of the cafeteria, eyes searching for her daughter. Summer didn’t say goodbye to Sara’s family; she launched herself from her seat and across the room, dodging bodies and plates until she was face-to-face with her person.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mama said. She didn’t hug Summer like she normally would have, just stood with her arms at her sides.

“I was worried,” Summer shot back accusingly.

“I have a job,” her mother said simply. “I’m really tired. Come with me while I get some coffee.”

She followed after her, tripping once on her heels. When they found a spot at the end of an overcrowded table, her mother slouched over her mug and looked at Summer with droopy eyes.

“Did you have a nice time?” she asked. Summer launched into the stories without being pushed, ending it with eating breakfast with Sara’s family.

“Her dad is the doctor?” her mother asked.

Summer nodded.

“What was he like?”

“I don’t know. Sara’s mom talked more than he did. They just asked me stuff.”

“Like what stuff?”

Her mother was sitting up straighter now, more alert.

“I don’t remember,” she lied. “I have to go to class now.” She started to stand up, but her mother grabbed her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she looked it. “I’m just tired.” Seeming to force a smile, her mama squeezed her hand once more before letting go.

“Okay, kid. I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”

Summer raised a hand and ran after Sara, who was waiting near the door for her: the school bell had rung.



8


Then


It was February of 1999; Kids’ Camp was double the size it had been the previous year. Summer turned fourteen quietly that month. Her mother was away, and if anyone knew it was Summer’s birthday, they didn’t say. Most days consisted of a steady stream of chores, schoolwork, journaling and leadership training, and by the time she climbed into her bunk at night, she couldn’t say what day of the week it was. They woke early—four a.m. early—to run two miles before their day started. Fitness and discipline were important, Taured told them. To learn bodily discipline, they would watch what they ate, report on their exercise and calorie intake each day and sleep exactly six hours each night. If they didn’t meet their assigned weight goal each week, they lost an hour of sleep. And if they weren’t sleeping, they had to be working.

In March, Monica Lewinsky was interviewed by Barbara Walters about her affair with the president. Taured wheeled the big TV into the cafeteria so everyone could watch. Plates of cookies were passed around, the chocolate warm in their mouths as Miss Lewinsky explained why she hadn’t dry-cleaned her dress. It felt like they’d barely dusted the cookie crumbs off their laps when the TV appeared again in April, with bowls of rice pudding: this time, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold had murdered twelve students and one teacher in the Columbine massacre. Summer couldn’t eat the pudding; sprinkled with cinnamon, it looked like freckled skin. She watched as hundreds of students ran for their lives across the grass, arms behind their heads lest they be mistaken for a shooter, and wondered what she’d do in that situation. The building Harris and Klebold had terrorized looked similar to the compound, filled with windowless hallways and limited exits.