This Might Hurt(82)

I stumbled into a taxi, trying her number again and again, squeezing my phone against my ear until my hand was white. It turned out she’d had too much chardonnay and passed out on the couch with her own device in hand. I put her to bed and vowed never to ignore my phone again.

Even now that Mom’s dead, even though I have no service on the island, I can’t stop the tightness spreading across my chest. I tell myself Kit will understand. I’ll have to admit I lied about not bringing my phone here, but she knows the history. Her new outlook on life doesn’t matter. She’s still my sister. She will help me.

I’ll never lie to her again. Let her be okay.

I dash back to her room, dodging hail the size of golf balls along the way. This time I don’t bother with the door, but go straight to the cabin window and gaze inside. The room is still dark. It’s eight p.m.

I trudge back to my room, resigned to the fact that most of the clothing I’ve brought to Wisewood is damp. I slump on the desk chair, wet clothes and all. The cafeteria will be closed by now. Who would be the most likely to help? Whose cabin number do I know besides Kit’s? I kick the desk and swear.

At nine I try Kit’s room again. No answer then or at ten or eleven. At midnight I give up, trying not to freak out. Where is she? I don’t know how, but I’m sure Rebecca is behind this.

After pacing the room for an hour, I give up. At this time and in this weather, I can’t do anything to get my phone back or find my sister. I’ll go to the cafeteria right when it opens tomorrow and demand to have my property returned. I will confide in Kit as soon as I figure out where she is. I lie in bed, vacillating between fear and anger. Sometime around two thirty, I lose steam. My eyelids grow heavy.



* * *



? ? ?

I WAKE TO a repeated tap on my forehead. A leak in the roof? I think groggily.

I open my eyes. The moon illuminates the room. Someone is standing over me. I scream and recoil from the intruder. The person is tall and thin and wears a bank robber’s mask.

“Who are you?” I pull the comforter up to my chin. Hail beats the cabin walls.

In a low tone the woman says, “Let’s go.” She’s dressed in all black.

“How did you get in my room?”

“Do you want your phone back?”

I start but there’s no sense in lying. Someone must have seen me trying to use it in the forest. Probably Raeanne. I curse myself for being so stupid, then nod.

Trying to blink the sleep from my eyes, I shrug on my parka and boots. The woman doesn’t give me time to get my scarf and hat before nudging me toward the door.

“I don’t have my key,” I protest.

She ignores this and heads off. I glance at Kit’s cabin when we pass, but it’s too far away to see inside. Snow pummels us as we pick our way through the circles. The cold is brutal, bone-chilling. A gale shrieks past us. None of it bothers the masked woman.

“Who are you?” I ask again.

She doesn’t respond. The obvious answer is Raeanne, but it could be any staff member; I’ve met only a few of them. What if it’s a guest gone crazy? I brush away the fear. How would a guest know about my phone?

We walk in the opposite direction of the big house. Maybe we’re going to this woman’s room. Soon after, we clear the cabins. Okay, my phone could be in the class trailer. When we pass the trailer without stopping, I lick my lips. There are no more buildings ahead, only the hedge.

The masked woman stops at the same Staff Only door that Raeanne yanked me through earlier in the day. Yesterday, technically. She unlocks it and motions for me to go through. Could they be keeping my phone in that schoolhouse? I freeze, rooted to the spot.

“Tell me where we’re going.”

She steps toward me. “Keep moving.”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

She pulls something from her pocket, twirls it once between her fingers. A button clicks, and a blade ejects: a box cutter.

My legs feel weak. I back through the doorway, keeping my eyes on the knife. The masked woman drifts behind me through the forest, commanding the occasional “right” and “left.” Even in the frigid storm, I can feel the steam of her body heat at my back. I picture what would happen if she tripped and stumbled forward, if the blade was still out. I walk faster.

After what seems like forever, she tells me to stop. I look around but don’t see any buildings, only tree branches heavy with snow. They offer some shelter from the weather, but I’m already covered in powder.

“Where is it?”

She stays silent.

“You had no right to steal my shit.”

Still she says nothing. Who is this woman, so cold and controlled?

“I want my phone back.”

Motionless in spite of the storm, she stares through me. “You should’ve read your contract.”

“Listen, I’m sorry for breaking your rules.” I hate my pleading tone.

The masked woman watches me for a while. I force myself to wait her out.

“Stay here ’til someone comes for you,” she finally says.

Every hair on my body stands on end. The arteries in my neck pulse. “You can’t be serious. It’s freezing outside. We’re in the middle of a snowstorm.”

She leans over me. “What Teacher says goes.”