The Glass Arrow(26)

“No,” I say aloud, just as Straw Hair takes off at a sprint towards the fence. The electric fence. Where I saw her meet the boy on her first night. My gaze shoots to Daphne. She sees what’s happening, but doesn’t move to intercept.

“Daphne!” I cry. “Stop her!”

I run forward, but hit the end of my chain hard and am yanked to a stop. I strain against the chain, but have no way of getting inside the rec-yard fence. Daphne is standing now; she hasn’t moved from Buttercup’s side.

“Daphne!” I shout again. I know she can hear me—I’m less than fifty paces away—but she only watches, like I’m forced to do. I’m vaguely aware that my guard has come outside to see what I’m yelling about.

Straw Hair hits the fence at a dead run.

I’m unable to tear my eyes away. There’s a flash of light, and a deafening metallic zap! Straw Hair is stuck to the fence, as though she’s a piece of cotton stuck to tree sap. And she’s shaking. Her whole body is shaking.

Her hair catches fire and her yellow head goes up in orange flames. It rolls back while the rest of her—her arms, her legs, her torso—are all still attached to the fence, dancing uncontrollably. I can smell her burning flesh in the pure white cloud of smoke that’s rising around her. I can taste the sick in the back of my mouth.

There is a loud popping sound, and I know the fence’s power has been shut down. I can’t help but think that if I were on that side, I would have taken this chance to climb over to freedom.

What’s left of Straw Hair crumples to the ground, smoking. All that is left of her hair is a charred scalp. A moment later, the fence buzzes. The power has been turned back on.

And then three Pips are scurrying towards her. They don’t run, but they walk speedily, and though I can’t see their faces, I’m sure their expressions are that of disgust. My bloody nose was nothing compared to this sickening mess.

They don’t pick up her body. They’re calling on the radio to someone within the Garden. The Governess probably. She won’t come outside, but she’ll have her Pip assistant contact someone to pick up the body. Who knows how long that will take.

I stumble back a step, turn to the side, and puke.

I’ve never seen anyone do anything like that in all my time here. The most desperate attempts to escape have been mine. But Straw Hair has beaten me. She has escaped. Truly escaped.

Straw Hair. I didn’t even know her name. Her Garden name. Or her given name. I feel another bout of sick coming on.

A short time later I register the Watcher’s presence. When I turn he’s holding a meal pill in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. Weakly, I take them from him. And then he promptly turns away to go inside. As though there isn’t a dead body lying fifty paces away. As though a life has not just been lost in fire and smoke.

I throw the pill at him as hard as I can. I don’t care if he does come back here to knock me around. I think, in all my fury, I might be able to take him right now.

But he’s already inside, and the pill bounces harmlessly off the glass and lands in the dirt.

*

I’M BACK IN MY normal hiding place behind the wall when Brax comes. It’s dark now—as dark as it gets here—and the night is unusually quiet but for the traces of bass booming from the clubs in the Black Lanes.

Brax can read my moods. He always has been able to, even when he was a puppy. He crawls towards me with his jaw closed, and sniffs my face and hair before lying beside me with his head in my lap. He wiggles there, until I lift my hand to pet him. The soft feel of his fur comforts me.

But only a little.

I’d never do what Straw Hair did. I can’t, I’ve got the twins to think about. But it’s out there. Even if it’s an option I refuse to take, I know it’s out there.

A tall figure emerges from the barn. It’s the Driver, and I can see that he’s clean again, even though his clothes are a mess. He doesn’t descend the bank. He stands just outside the closest paddock fence. I can see his white teeth in the dim light.

I stand, leaving Brax lying on his side. This time, he doesn’t bother getting up to defend me. I don’t even grab my usual rock to defend myself. My hands feel empty, loose, and open like this.

The Driver’s holding something, and for a split second, I kick myself for not grabbing a weapon. But soon I see what it is. Round. Palm sized.

A ball. He’s tossing and catching it in one hand.

My jaw falls open. Surely he doesn’t want to play catch.

The Driver tosses me the ball underhand, and I catch it easily. It’s light and rubber, a little squishy in my grip. I toss it back, and he catches it. Then he throws a little harder. I grin, swiping it out of the air above me, muscles remembering the game Bian and I grew up playing. When I return the throw, he has to shake the sting out of his hand.

We go on this way for a while, and in that time I think of nothing but our game. Chains and auctions and girls with yellow hair all fade away.

My muscles get sore after a while, but I don’t stop until he does. Winding his arm in a large circle, he comes to the stream, preparing again to hop over. As always, he sighs just after he clears it.

When he’s walking towards me, my stomach tightens. Things weren’t so bad when he was on the other side of the barrier, but now that he’s close again I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what he wants or why he’s here, but to show him I’m not afraid, I hold my ground. When he gets within ten paces, Brax jumps up and begins to growl.