Wilder Girls(28)

“You can’t do that.” Reese’s voice is low, urgent as she leans closer. “You know you can’t. It’s breaking quarantine.”

“So what?” I say. “I’m Boat Shift. Boat Shift is allowed past the fence.”

She rolls her eyes. “I think they meant that for going to pick up supplies and not sneaking after your friend.”

I wave it away. They’ve always told us the quarantine is the most important thing, but if I’m choosing between it and Byatt, it’s no choice at all.

“And even if you did go out there,” Reese continues, “how would you get back in past the fence?” She pulls at the end of her braid with silver fingers, her split ends starting to fray. “The gate locks and—”

   “I’ll climb over it,” I say hotly. “I’ll figure it out. I’m not worried about that.”

“I am,” she says, but she’s looking at me, her face open and unsure, and there it is, that kick in my chest, that reaching I’ve been trying to ignore since we met.

“Come with me,” I say. “We’ll go together.”

It’s magic. One second she’s in it with me, her head bent close to mine, and then she’s settled back into that posture I know so well. Arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes emptied of heart.

“No,” she says. “No, you do what you want, but I won’t go with you.”

For once I’m not willing to let it lie. This is too important, all of it. “Why not?”

She makes an exasperated sound. “Hetty—”

Whatever patience I had left is gone. I’m gripping the edge of the bunk so hard I can feel a splinter bite deep into my palm. “What is wrong with you? Byatt’s our friend. Don’t you want her to be okay?”

“Wanting has nothing to do with it,” she says, but it’s pouring out of me, louder than I should be, angrier than I expected.

“Because I know you don’t care.” I keep on, a bitter twist to my words. “I know that makes you better than me, but I can’t just write the whole world off like you do.”

   “I don’t care? Are you—” And then she breaks off like it hurts. For a second I can see it all laid out across her. The longing and the resignation and the betrayal, the sting of watching the island she loves steal the people she pretends she doesn’t.

“Oh,” I say. My voice thick, lodged in my throat. I’ve spent every day since I met her telling myself the wrong thing. Telling myself over and over that she was cold, when maybe she was burning the whole time. “I’m sorry. Jesus, Reese, I’m sorry.”

Her parents both gone, and this is what it did to her. This is the wreck it left behind. I should have seen it. I should have seen how she loves as hard as I do. Only I think it pins her down where it picks me up.

“I wish I could,” she says, not looking at me. “I wish I could be like you. But I can’t go looking for her if I couldn’t go looking for him. I thought Boat Shift was the only way past the fence, but here you are, ready to tear it down with your bare hands.” She lets out a shaking breath, and then softly, “Why couldn’t I do that for my dad?”

For once I think I know what to say. It’s what people used to tell me when I was small, when my father was deployed. “You’re his daughter,” I say. “You’re not supposed to be the one protecting him.”

She doesn’t answer. Still she has to be listening. “But Byatt’s our girl.” I’m watching Reese’s face, and I have her. I know I do. “We are supposed to protect her. Just like she’d do it for us.” I take a deep breath. “Just like I’d do it for you.”

   A flicker of surprise on her face, one that lights an answering spark of shame in my stomach. Is that really news to her?

But she reaches out then, and I feel something catch in my chest as her palm slides against mine. “Yeah,” she says. “Okay.”

There’s nothing more to be done tonight, and the adrenaline is draining from me, leaving me about ready to keel over. I smile at her and let go, duck into my bunk.

I lie on my back, still leaving room next to me for Byatt like always. Above me I can hear Reese taking off her jacket to use as a blanket. It’s too quiet, and as easy as it just was with her, suddenly, I want more than anything for the ground to swallow me up so we don’t have to listen to each other pretend to be asleep.

“Hey,” Reese says suddenly. “It wasn’t my dad, was it? On the walkie?”

“Um.” I’m not sure how to let her down.

“Never mind.” She sounds gruff, embarrassed, and I can picture her shaking her head. “I just…I thought if one of my parents was gonna come back, it would be him.”

A rustle, and a creak in the wooden ribs of our bunk beds as she gets comfortable, ending the conversation. I’m surprised she started it to begin with.

   But then, she’s different without Byatt here. Or maybe we both are. I clench my fists, try to work up the courage. I’ve wondered this since I met her, but when Reese doesn’t want to talk, nothing can make her.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I start. There’s a tremor in my voice. I keep going. “But, Reese, where did your mom go?”