Wilder Girls(20)

Sweat turning cold in the late fall air, and I’m shivering by the time we near the gate, deep in the afternoon. I forgot what it was like to see the white crest rising over the trees. Up on the flattop roof the Gun girls are two silhouettes. I wonder what I look like to them.

   There’s a dead coyote by the gate, flies swarming around its bloodied face. Julia and Carson are waiting just beyond it, sitting propped up against the fence, and they get to their feet as we approach, weaving around the carcass.

“Remember,” says Welch, low and close to my ear. “Big smile. It’s our job to show the girls inside that everything’s fine.”

My lungs are still tight from running, my hands heavy with the food we threw over the side, but I stand up straight and do my best to put it all away. These secrets are mine to keep now. They picked me because they thought I could handle it, so I will.

Welch unlocks the gate and we slip through single file, and through the front doors of the house. I set down my bag, look pointedly away from the girls clamoring around to get their shot at what’s inside. There’s Byatt waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me. And tilting her head, and not saying anything.

“Where’s Reese?” I ask once I’m close enough.

“Haven’t seen her all day.” Byatt reaches for me. I want to sag against her, to let her hold me up, but I’m not supposed to let anybody see. “Okay?”

“Tired.”

Behind me, a set of measured footsteps, and when I turn it’s Headmistress, concern shaping her face into something almost motherly.

   “Are you quite all right?” she says.

I nod, ignore the building pressure in my chest. “I’m fine. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“Why don’t you head upstairs?” Headmistress lays her hand on my shoulder, fingers trembling like the Tox is alive inside them. “Some rest will do you good.”

“She’s right,” Byatt says. “Come on.”

“But the food…” A rest is all I want, but I’m supposed to wait until the girls have taken their share, then help carry what’s left into the pantry. It’s my job.

Welch comes up alongside me and eases me away from the crowd. “We’ll take care of it,” she says. “You go sleep.”

I don’t have the energy to argue. “Okay.” I reach for the bowie knife, to give it back to her, but Welch shakes her head.

“You earned it,” she says. A knife in my belt like Julia, like Carson. I guess it’s official.

I let Byatt lead me up the stairs, and after a step or two I shut my eye. Behind us I can hear the girls scratching and clawing for the food, and I think of the ocean at the pier, of everything we threw overboard. Of the chocolate I ate without a thought for anybody stuck here.

Finally, our room, and I climb into our bunk, lie on my side. Byatt sits on the edge of the mattress, my body curling around her.

“Do you want some water, maybe?” she says.

“I’m fine, really.”

“What happened out there, Hetty?”

   And I want to—oh, I want to—because if anybody knows what to say, it’s Byatt. But I swallow hard, fold a little more into myself. Everything is fine, I hear Welch say. “Nothing.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and then she leans back against me, the knobs of her second spine pressing hard into my hip.

The lines of her face are lit with the last of the sun. Sloping nose and long neck so familiar I could trace them in my sleep, rich chestnut hair hanging down around her shoulders. Mine used to be long like hers, until she cut it for me during freshman spring. The two of us out on the porch, Byatt quiet and methodical as she trimmed it so the ends brush my jaw. She still does it, every few months, the ends splitting and fraying against the blunt blade of whatever knife she’s managed to borrow from the Boat girls.

I nudge her a little, and she glances down at me. “You okay?” I ask. I forget to, sometimes. I forget she’s like the rest of us. But she just smiles fondly.

“Get some sleep. I’ll be right here.”

And I did what I did, and I saw what I saw, but Byatt is here, and I fall asleep like it’s the easiest thing in the world.





CHAPTER 5


Reese isn’t at breakfast the next morning. It’s been nearly two days since I saw her last, since I got Boat Shift, but Byatt says she’s seen her on the grounds, seen her holed up in what used to be a teacher’s office at night.

We’re sitting by the fireplace today, sharing one of the couches with Cat and Lindsay. They started the same year we did, and I never used to talk to them much outside of class. After the Tox we started drifting together, trading food and blankets. Everybody needs more help now than they did before.

Usually, I’m the one who goes for food, but I still feel sick when I think about yesterday, about the rations we tossed into the water. Byatt went today instead, and she managed to wrangle a bag of croutons. Now she takes a handful, nudges the bag in my direction.

“You have to eat something,” she says.

“Later.” I can’t. I know, I know, we threw that food away for a reason, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch Byatt counting every bite she takes.

   “Hetty, a word?”