Astray (20 page)

“Bad day?” someone calls out from the back corner of the room. I peer into the darkness and can just make out the scuffed tips of Jack’s boots. She leans forward so I can see her face. Jack grins, her mouth curving open enough so that I notice the gap between her two front teeth. “I was just listening to the vice principal’s meeting with the PTA ladies. From the sound of it, they’re still trying to boot your group out of school.” She points at the vent. The voices coming out of it are loud and angry-sounding.

I’m breathing hard enough that it takes me a minute to answer. “I thought I was alone.” I’m hoping she’ll hear the edge in my voice and take what I’ve said as a hint for her to leave, but she seems to miss it completely.

“What happened?” Jack looks at my face, studies it like the answer to her question will write itself across my face.

“Why do you want to know? So you can put it in your paper?” I know that she apologized for trying to interview me before. I’m out of line, but I can’t help myself. I need to lash out at someone. She just happens to be the only one here.

She slides off the desk she’s been perched on and walks closer to me. “I swear I’d only write an article if it was okay with you—which, truthfully, is sort of out of character for me, but I guess I’m turning over a new leaf and all of that. If you need to talk, talk. I’m a pretty good listener.”

“Okay,” I say, arms crossed around my chest. “Please be someone I can trust.” I hadn’t exactly meant to say that last part out loud, but I did and now it’s too late to take it back. It’s just that I really do need someone to talk to, someone who isn’t Cody, someone who can just be my friend. Cody’s a great listener and I feel like I can tell him a lot, but he’s a guy and I like him and sometimes this muddles my thoughts instead of clarifying them.

Jack’s face goes serious. “Okay. I will be. I mean, I am.” She says this formally, like an oath or something, and I feel the knots in my stomach start to loosen. She holds out a hand and we shake on it.

“Okay,” I say again. I look around for somewhere to settle. I have a feeling that once I start talking I might not be able to stop.

“Look, we don’t have to do this here. I know it’s not comfortable for you. We could take off … maybe get a coffee or something?” Jack pulls me toward the stairs. “You seem like you have a
lot
to get off your chest.” She looks down at my boobs. “No pun intended,” she says. I surprise myself and laugh.

“Won’t we get in trouble for ditching?” I ask as she pulls me up the steps.

“Only if we get caught.” Jack leads us down a maze of hallways so fast that I don’t have time to pay attention to which ones they are or how to retrace our steps, and suddenly we’re outside, the wind whipping our hair into our faces, our school bags slapping our thighs as we trot to her car. I’m not sure if it’s the crispness of the air or the sure pull of Jack’s hand, but I feel better, even though I haven’t told her anything yet. And maybe that’s wrong after this morning and what happened just now with Will and the others. If Cody realizes that I’m gone, he’ll worry, and the sheriff … will go ballistic. Sneaking off is completely out of character for me. It’s impulsive and reckless and utterly thoughtless and somehow the only thing that’s managing to make me not want to kick something. As scary as this morning was, I don’t want to tell Jack I can’t go. Besides, we’ll be in the middle of town somewhere, surrounded by lots of people. So far they’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make sure that I’m the only one who sees their threats. This might be the best possible way to keep myself safe.

Nothing good can come of flirting with Outsiders. How can you keep company with death and not expect it to rub off on you?

—Mr. Brown

Jack heads into town, the main drag to be exact. She’s got the radio turned up extra loud and music I’ve never heard before shakes the car. She taps the steering wheel as she drives and sings along, her voice high-pitched, clear, and … well, bad. But she doesn’t seem to care at all.

“This is why in public I’m a writer, not a singer,” she explains with a grin.

I smile and she gestures at me like she wants me to sing too.

“I’ve never heard this song before.”

I’ve been listening to some of Cody’s and Taylor’s music, but I still don’t feel like I recognize more than a handful of songs. But even if I did know the words, I’m not sure I could let go and sing them as unselfconsciously as Jack is right now. Back home I’d almost always mouth the words instead of really singing them. I have no idea why. I’m not really even sure if I’m all that bad a singer … I guess I’m just a really, really private one. I lean back against the seat
and look out the window. I try to work up the desire to start singing too, but I can’t, so I just listen to Jack and tap my fingers on my leg to the beat. I feel like an idiot.

Jack parks in front of the diner on Main Street, in the heart of downtown. She leads me inside and we pick out a booth in the back corner, away from the front door—at my request. If they’re still watching me, I don’t want to make it easy.

“We might as well add lunch to that coffee, since we won’t make it back to school in time to eat … if we make it back at all.” Jack shoots me a mischievous look, her eyebrows raised.

I don’t want to go back, but I also know that it’s only a matter of time before someone realizes that I’m gone. When Chad returns to my classroom, he’ll figure things out and tell the sheriff.

“I can’t stay gone. Cody and his family will be looking for me soon, especially after what happened this morning,” I tell her.

Jack puts her menu down without opening it. “Which was what exactly?”

I start with Pioneer’s interview from the night before. Turns out she saw it too—probably most of the people in town did—and she guesses where I’m going with the story even before I actually get there. I purposely leave out what happened at Cody’s house this morning. I am positive it’ll scare her away.

“Wow. Do you think they wanted to cut their hair or did their parents make them?” Jack asks. Her tone is measured—careful—like she doesn’t want to upset me by saying the wrong thing.

“They decided.” I was sure that they had … until the words come out of my mouth. “I mean, I think. Maybe not. I … I don’t know.” I try to imagine Heather volunteering to lose her hair and I can’t, even after seeing her chanting earlier. Could her parents have forced her?

“Aren’t you two supposed to be in school?” Mrs. Rosen is standing over us. My heart nearly drops to my shoes. I start to stammer and can’t answer.

“The other cult kids shaved their heads,” Jack says like this makes any sense to Mrs. Rosen at all.

Mrs. Rosen motions Jack to slide over and sits beside her. They seem to know each other. I look at Jack and she blushes a little.

“I see Mrs. Rosen sometimes too.”

And it is in that moment that I understand why she keeps trying to be my friend. In some ways we really are alike.

“Girls, leaving the school without permission is not okay, no matter what’s occurred.” She’s not reprimanding us so much as stating a fact. She sighs and pulls out her phone. “I’m going to call the school and let them know that you’re with me. Lyla, we need to talk anyway about what happened the other night at your session. Your parents
were worried sick and so was I. I was hoping you’d call to explain, but since you haven’t, now seems like as good a time as any to address it.”

I don’t even know where to begin. So much has happened since then.

Mrs. Rosen makes her call to the school and then folds her hands and waits for me to start talking. She sends Jack over to the long counter by the cash register to order a coffee and wait for her to give the okay to come back.

I tell Mrs. Rosen everything. I know that the sheriff will fill her in anyway even if I don’t. And it feels good to get it off my chest. I start with the day I got the owl from Will and came to the trailers for our counseling session. I describe the circles and the photo album in my room and about finding the shattered owl on Taylor’s window-sill all glued back together. She pulls out her phone at one point and asks if I’ll let her record what I’m saying and I agree. After seeing Will and the others today, I feel like I have to. I was afraid of having them get mad at me before because I know how much they don’t want to leave the Community, but now I’m starting to see that what’s happening to them is wrong and someone needs to stand up and say so.

Mrs. Rosen looks sick by the time I stop talking. Her face is white and there are tears in her eyes. She reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. “You are a very brave girl.”

I pull my hand from hers and pick up the salt shaker,
make a big deal about wiping off the smudges from the silver top. “Um, thanks,” I say.

“I know that telling me all of this wasn’t easy, Lyla, but you have to see that it isn’t a betrayal of your friends and family. They need help, and because of your honesty, we’re going to make sure that they get it. I’ll start working on this today. Right now, in fact.” She gets up from the table and motions Jack back over.

“Can I count on you girls to head right back to school?” She eyeballs Jack when she says this.

“Yeah, yeah. But can we eat first? We missed lunch.” Jack makes sad puppy-dog eyes at her and Mrs. Rosen laughs a little in spite of herself.

“You have thirty minutes to return to the school. If you order now, you should have time to eat and get back before I call to check up on you.”

“Deal, thanks, Mrs. R.” Jack smiles at her and flags down our waitress.

Twenty minutes later we’re back out on Main Street, making a beeline for Jack’s car. I’m not watching where I’m going because we’re in such a hurry, and my feet hit an uneven spot in the pavement.

My arms shoot out in front of me and I grab the closest person on the sidewalk—and it’s not Jack. I clamp my hands down on both the person’s arms to keep from falling. Too late I notice the way one of his sleeves is rolled up and the wide white bandage covering his left forearm and hand. He sucks in a breath.

“Watch it!” he shouts, and I let go immediately, but it’s too late. I can see that I’ve hurt him. He pulls his arm into his chest and shudders.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to do that. Are you okay?” I look up—right into Jonathan’s face. It’s him. The Freedom Ranger.

He stoops to pick up the bags that he must have been holding before, but dropped when I ran into him. I kneel down to help him and introduce myself. “I’ve seen you over, um, with my family … at the trailers. You’re Jonathan, right?”

He stares at me. “You didn’t see me by the trailers. It was the barn.”

I stand up fast and step a little closer to Jack. He saw me that night? But he never let on to the others. Why? It can’t be because he was trying to protect me. He doesn’t even know me. But then I think about Pioneer’s video and Mr. Brown’s talk and realize that he probably knows me pretty well—at least their version of me.

“Um, yeah,” I say, because there doesn’t seem to be any point in denying it.

“I’m Jonathan.” He nods at me. I can’t help noticing that he still has his hair. I’m sort of surprised. I thought he was becoming part of the Community.

“What happened?” I ask, my eyes on the pink skin peeking out from underneath the bandage.

He hesitates long enough that I almost ask him again. “I was carrying a pot of boiling water and bumped into
the counter. My potholder slipped and I grabbed the pot with my bare hand to keep it from falling. Stupid trailer kitchens don’t leave much space to move around in.” He frowns at me like he doesn’t like me asking him questions.

Jack grimaces. “Not good.”

Jonathan mumbles, “No, it wasn’t.”

“Did you go buy some analgesic cream?” I ask, gesturing to the bag, which he holds a little closer to his chest. “It’ll help relieve the stinging.” I know something about this. I worked in the clinic at Mandrodage Meadows at least once a week. You’d be surprised how often people burned themselves, and it wasn’t like Pioneer would let us go to the hospital unless it was something pretty serious.

I don’t know why I’m trying to help him. I guess because I’m hoping if I’m nice he’ll let his guard down and I can ask him why he’s joining the Community, why he’s decided to believe in Pioneer.

Jonathan looks down at the bag and then at me. “Yeah, I just got some.”

I look at the bag, which is gaping open; only one of its handles is in his grasp. There are a couple of bags filled with nails, nuts and bolts, and several rolls of duct tape, but no cream.

He sees me looking and pulls the bag closed.

I shrug and try to act like he doesn’t unnerve me, but he does, especially the way he’s barely answering my questions. I start to turn away.

“So, are you happy now?” he asks.

The question is almost an accusation, and seems to come out of nowhere since I’m still thinking about his injured hand. “What?”

“Are you happy now? Now that you’re with the sheriff and his family?”

I don’t know what to say.

He inches a little closer and I take a step back. “You’ve put your trust into people who don’t deserve it,” he says.

Here we go
.

He steps even closer to me until he’s right above me, staring me down, his bright blue eyes laser-focused on mine. “Your family has given you chance after chance to come home. They shouldn’t. You’re a fool.”

He has blue eyes.

I watch openmouthed as he brushes past us and hurries down the sidewalk and past the diner. Was it him this morning with the owl? Is that how he hurt his hand? Did the owl scratch him or something, and he’s trying to cover it up with the boiling-water story? My blood seems to rush from my head to my feet and I feel a little faint. But he doesn’t even know me. Why would he do that? It makes more sense that it was Mr. Brown … and yet his body, the size and shape … it could be him.

I almost ask him right there in the middle of the street just to see the expression on his face when I do, but he’s already too far away, and I’m not sure I want the whole town to know I’m curious about anything remotely linked to the Community.