Under My Skin (Wildlings) (17 page)

I can't do it. As the rest of the kids take off their bits of animal costumes and start to file inside, Marina gives me a tug on my arm.

"We have to go inside," she says.

I shake my head. "I'll be along. I just need a couple of minutes."

"Josh, I'm sorry. I know he was your friend, but you couldn't have known."

"No? If I'd just recognized him for what he was, I could have talked him out of it."

"I don't think suicide is ever that simple," Marina says.

But maybe this is. He hated Wildlings, so I guess he hated himself, too. Except that couldn't be the whole story, could it? If I could have just talked to him. If I'd told him I was one ...

"Well, we're not going to know now, are we?" I say.

"Josh … please don't go there."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything stupid."

I want her to say something like "I know you won't," but she only nods and says, "Okay."

"What's going on?" Desmond asks when he sees we aren't following him and Terry and the others.

"Nothing." Marina tucks her hand into the crook of his arm when he returns to where we're standing. "Come on, let's go."

"What about you, Josh?" he asks.

"He's coming in a minute," Marina says before I can. "Now let's go."

She gives his arm a tug and Desmond lets himself be led away.

I'm alone now except for the few stragglers hurrying for the front door. They give me curious looks, but nobody stops. I look up and down the street. There's no sign of the dark car that the FBI agent got into. I don't see any of them anywhere.

I need to talk to another Wildling, but I don't know where to find Elzie or Cory and I don't know any others. Or maybe I do, but just like with Dillon, I'm unable to recognize them. I feel utterly useless. I could call Elzie, but talking on the phone about this doesn't seem right. Besides, what could Elzie say to make any of this better? She doesn't even know Dillon. Didn't. As in the past. I can't believe this.

My gaze drifts to the picnic tables under the palm and eucalyptus trees. I do know one other Wildling. Chaingang.

I doubt he wants to talk to me again. I remember him saying how we weren't going to have meetings or hang out together. But he also said if I needed a helping hand, he'd be there for me. This probably isn't the kind of thing he was talking about, but what have I got to lose? If he was serious, it's not like he's going to beat me up or even have one of his gang do it for him.

He looks up as I approach his table. I can't get a take on his mood because of the shades and the stillness of his face. Up close, he seems bigger than I remember.

"Can I talk to you?" I say.

"Well, at least you waited until the Feds drove off. Wonder what spooked them?"

I shrug.

He nods as if I said something. "I'm guessing something else came along to turn their crank. Or maybe they don't want to be so obvious with this many kids outside looking around. Losers. They haven't exactly been invisible."

"Did you hear about Dillon?" I ask. "Dillon Harner."

"Yeah. Not the greatest news to start the day."

"I just don't get it. Someone said he killed himself because he was a Wildling."

"I heard the same thing. But I also heard he got in touch with the Feds and admitted he was a Wildling. You know, followed what those stupid PSAs have been telling kids to do. Then he found out they were planning to take him away this morning."

Could this morning get any weirder?

"Why didn't he run?"

Chaingang takes off his shades and regards me. "That kind of life, bro—it's not for everybody. I don't know if I could live on the run, cut off from everything and everyone I know."

"You? But you went away to juvie."

"Yeah, but with my connections, it was like a holiday. Meals, a bed, Internet. I had pretty much anything I wanted, except for girls. This'd be different."

"I don't understand."

"I can do my time," Chaingang says. "The judge lays down the sentence and they put me away, but I can see the end—you know what I'm saying? Sooner or later they have to put me back on the street. This Householder crusade is revving up and the Feds seem to be running with it. Who knows what weird-ass shit they'll do to you, or if you'll ever see the outside again?"

"Some guys rescued a bunch of Wildlings the other night. The FBI had them locked up at the old naval base."

"Yeah, I heard about that, too. Now the Feds are in everybody's faces."

"But not yours."

Chaingang shakes his head. "Not yet. But that doesn't mean it's not coming."

"This is so messed up."

"Tell me about it. Word of advice. If the Feds pull you in, don't let them see you change. Not even if they lock you up. Don't ever change where anyone can see, and that means watching out for traffic cams and shit like that, too."

"What if you don't have a choice?"

"You're not listening to me," he says. "Let them lock you up and wait it out. Because when it all falls apart—and bro, it will fall apart— you'll be in the right and the whole world will see that they're on a witch hunt. Public opinion will see them as the bad guys instead of us.

"But change on camera, or anyplace they can see you and it's game over. Then you're the freak and there's no denying it."

I nod, mostly because he expects it.

I'm still trying to come to terms with what Dillon did. He took the only way out that he thought would allow him any control over his life.

There were other choices. If only I'd known. If I could have just talked to him.

"We used to play music together," I say. "In the band room during our spares."

Chaingang nods. "And?"

"I never even knew he was a Wildling. If I had, I could have done something."

"The kid was messed up," Chaingang says. "He was like some closet gay going out bashing gays, you know what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I see that now. But maybe if I could have talked to him ..."

"You need to let this go," he tells me, his voice firm.

"I can't."

He shakes his head. "It's not on you, bro—don't you get that? It wasn't your decision to make. It was his."

"You don't really believe that."

"Yeah, I really do. You can honour his memory. You can regret the choice he made. You can bang your head against a wall. But it's done."

"Can you teach me how to tell if someone's a Wildling or not?"

"You already know," he says.

"I didn't know Dillon was one."

"It's complicated if you knew someone well before you changed. They're going to smell and seem the same, the way they always did. With strangers you can catch the high wild scent that sets a little something off in your head like there's a signal ringing in the distance."

"So somebody like my friend Desmond could be a Wildling?"

"He's not."

"No, of course he's not. We're best friends. He'd have told me."

The school bell rings. Everybody's gone into the auditorium so that Principal Hayden can give his speech about what a terrible loss this is and how there'll be counsellors for those who want to talk about what we're feeling. Just like last week's special assembly for Laura.

"Go inside," Chaingang says.

"I don't feel like it."

"Yeah, except the Feds' car is just coming around the corner and I don't want them to see you talking to me."

"Oh, right," I say as I dart for the front door. The mountain lion has me move so fast that my hand's almost on the doorknob before the words are out of my mouth.

"Careful, bro," Chaingang says.

Though his voice is soft, I hear it clearly. I look back, but he's got his shades back on and he's sitting there on the picnic table staring off into nowhere just like always.

I open the door and slip into the school before the Feds can see me.

I try to sneak into the auditorium, but Principal Hayden immediately notices me from where he's standing behind the podium on the stage. His gaze tracks me as I ease the door shut and take a seat at the rear. He keeps right on talking the whole time. Nobody else seems to notice me coming in late except for Marina, who turns in her seat as if she's got some kind of Josh-radar. She flashes me a sympathetic smile, then faces the front.

I do my best to pay attention to what Principal Hayden is saying, but it all sounds like the same platitudes as last Monday's assembly. After awhile Hayden starts to talk about how wearing bits of animal costumes sends an inappropriate message to the community—trivializing the very real problems that Wildlings face—and suggests that we wear ribbons or armbands instead.

I shift in my seat, waiting for him to finish telling us that counsellors are available if we want to talk to someone about Dillon. One thing's for sure. No counsellor can bring Dillon back.

I doubt I'm the only one who's relieved when we're finally dismissed to go to our classes.

"So where'd you disappear to, Saunders?" Desmond asks when he and Marina catch up to me after the assembly.

"Nowhere. I just needed a moment to think before I came in."

Marina touches my arm softly. "Maybe Dillon had some bad habits, but he had a good heart. I didn't know him as well as you, but anybody could see that."

She's being nice, not coming right out and saying anything about how he was always badmouthing Wildlings, but maybe she didn't see it. Lots of people don't see crap like that unless they're on the receiving end.

Desmond looks like he has something to add, except he's restraining himself.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, man."

"Come on. I know that look."

Desmond sighs. "I don't want to come off like some big jerk. The thing is, I get what you're feeling and what happened with Dillon is a real bummer, but I have to say, I don't understand why he did it. Being a Wildling would be so awesome—like the total opposite of wanting to kill yourself."

"I don't know how he felt about being a Wildling," I say, "but we know how he hated them. That had to be hard. And someone said he found out that the FBI was coming to take him away. That's what he couldn't face. Being locked away and studied and never being free again."

"Disappeared," Marina says quietly.

I nod.

"That sucks," Desmond agrees. "But why did he stick around for as long as he did? I'm not trying to get rid of you, Josh, but why do any of you stick around? If it happened to me, I'd be so gone. I'd just take off. I'd go as far as I could from Santa Feliz and start my life over."

I nod. "And never see your mom and dad again? Or your little sister? Because to be safe, you'd have to cut all ties with them and your friends and everything you care about."

"Yeah, but—"

"And what would you do for identification? How would you get a job, a car license, a bank account?"

"I don't know. I guess I'd have to go underground and buy those things."

"Using what? Meanwhile the FBI'd probably still be trying to track you down. So you'd be on the run on top of everything else."

"Dude, you make it sounds like a curse."

"I don't know if it is or it isn't," I tell him. "I just know that no one wants to give us enough room to find out."

We arrive at our classroom. Marina and I have English this period. I'm not sure what Desmond has. I catch his arm before he can go.

"I know you think it's really cool," I say, "and a lot of the time, a big part of me agrees with you. But today's not one of those times."

Desmond nods. "Sorry, dude. We should have saved this convo for another day."

"No," I tell him. "This is also when I really needed to be reminded of the awesomeness."

He grins and we bump fists. Then I follow Marina into the classroom.

Marina

It seems a long time until lunch. It's been hard enough to focus on everyday things ever since Laura was killed. This is worse. Josh seems really low and I'm worried about how he seems to be blaming himself for not picking up on Dillon's state of mind. I would love to be there for him, but after English, we both go to our separate classes. Eventually the long morning drags its way to the noon bell.

Josh is waiting for me outside my chem class as I exit, and we walk to the lunchroom to hook up with Desmond.    

"He's going to let it slip, you know," I say as he falls into step beside me.

 He knows exactly what I'm talking about and shakes his head. "Come on. This is Desmond. He knows how serious this is."

"Except he tends to talk first, think later. I don't think he'll do it on purpose, but—"

"Don't worry. He'll be cool."

I sigh. "
Why
did you have to tell us?"

"You're my best friends. How could I not tell you?"

I feel awful. Maybe I should have done the same, but maybe if I had, I'd be locked up by now. How can Josh be so sure that Desmond won't blow it?

Josh sees the doubt on my face. "What?" he asks.

"I just don't know. Maybe you shouldn't have. This is way more serious than any secret we'd normally share."

He shakes his head. "It's just different. Anyway, Dillon kept it a secret and look what happened to him."

That shuts me up.

Desmond joins us just as we get to the lunchroom. I brought my lunch so I go grab a table while Desmond and Josh stand in line to buy theirs.

I don't want to be nosy, but Josh's shoulders are slumped with despair, so I tune in to what he and Des are saying to each other.

"What's with Gess?" I hear Desmond say to Josh. "He's totally giving you the evil eye."

We all look over to where Desmond is jerking his thumb.

Erik Gess is a tall white guy, so blond his hair's almost platinum. He's a big deal on the boy's track and field team, an A student, and he's the president of the Sunny Hill High Purity Club. They're like the nationwide Pure Love Club—you know, no sex, no drugs, no alcohol. Whatever. People are free to make their own choices and if they want to have an abstinence club, so be it.

But on our campus, Erik and his pals take their mandate for purity a little further than the nationwide club does. They're as white bread as they come. No blacks, no Mexicans, no Asians, no Arabs. It's nothing that would ever be said aloud, but anyone who belongs to a minority in Sunny Hill knows better than to try to join the Purity Club.