The Different Girl

by Gordon Dahlquist

  I rushed down the steps to the courtyard, holding the rail. The rattling crack ripped through the air again, this time much closer, and a cloud of birds burst from the palms, frightened by the noise.

  • • •

  Halfway up the hill, I heard them call. I had almost fallen twice, trying to go too fast and slipping on the slick red dirt. I hadn’t seen them, crouched in the rocks.

  “Where have you been?” whispered May.

  “Do you have the notebook?” asked Eleanor.

  “Did you see Caroline?” asked Isobel.

  Caroline wasn’t with them. I looked behind me, down to both buildings and the courtyard. She wasn’t anywhere.

  “Where did she go?”

  “To find you,” said Isobel. “To find the notebook.”

  I shook my head. “She didn’t come to find me. She went somewhere else. Didn’t she say?”

  “She just went,” said May. “By the time we noticed she was halfway back.”

  “She said it would only be a minute,” said Isobel.

  “We’ve been waiting for you both,” said Eleanor.

  All three of them—the other two imitating May—were crouched in the rocks, and I realized I’d crouched down, too. I looked down the hill. How could Caroline be out of sight so quickly?

  “We have to go,” said May. “It’s too late. Didn’t you hear the shots?”

  “You should keep going and hide,” I said. “I’ll find Caroline. Maybe by then Robbert and Irene will be back, too—”

  “No.”

  May burst from the rocks. She grabbed my arm, spun me toward the hill.

  “We’re all going,” she grunted, “and we’re going now. You don’t understand.” She called ahead, still angry, to Eleanor and Isobel. “Move!”

  They hurried in front of us, holding hands for better balance, while May pulled me after. There were more sounds behind us that I didn’t know.

  “What’s all that?” I asked May.

  She was too caught up with hauling me to reply. We were almost to where the path turned, the point beyond which someone standing in the courtyard couldn’t see. I looked back. The kitchen blocked my view of the beach path, which was where the sounds echoed. They were voices—far away, speaking loudly, but with words I couldn’t understand.

  “It’s people!” I said.

  “Get down!”

  May dropped to her knees, and I did my best to crouch with her. Isobel and Eleanor had stopped ahead of us. May furiously waved for them to keep going. She peeked back herself and either decided we’d come far enough to stand or that there wasn’t enough time not to. We caught up with the others.

  “What are they saying?” asked Isobel.

  “Do you understand them, May?” asked Eleanor.

  But May only let go of my arm and pushed to the front. Her face had changed, jaw stuck out and eyes all hard, like when she was angry, but I knew she was also scared, even mainly scared. This was how people were able to do things when they didn’t want to—they made themselves feel something else, like anger, more than the fear. May must have learned it from her uncle, the way we learned deductions from Irene, which made me think of deducing what had happened to Caroline.

  She’d woken from a dream where Robbert had said to take his notebook. I thought of my own dream, the only one I’d ever had: May’s eyes and the round holes in the plank, and somehow knowing that May’s past would tell me what had happened in the storm. Since Caroline’s dreams weren’t a random matter of sand so much as direct results of what Irene whispered before bedtime, or questions Robbert asked her when they were alone in the classroom, with time I could guess what the different connections were. But there was no time. I looked back. All I saw were rocks and palms and, higher and higher around us, the bright blue sky.

  But if I couldn’t deduce her dream, perhaps I could deduce Caroline’s waking. She woke slowly after dreams: she’d said to find the notebook, but it wasn’t until later that she knew I wasn’t looking in the right place. But why didn’t she come tell me, so we could look together? Because there wasn’t time—which meant Caroline knew more than anyone what was wrong.

  She had asked Irene not to send her to sleep.

  Why did we know things when we did? When did the knowing settle in, like a circling bird to the earth? Caroline hadn’t known what to do until she was on the path. But she hadn’t gone back to the courtyard. She’d gone somewhere else.

  “Robbert had the notebook with him,” I said.

  Isobel and Eleanor turned to me. “What?”

  “That’s what she knew from her dream.”

  We had stopped walking, which brought May rushing back to us. “What are you doing—come on!”

  “Caroline went to find Robbert,” I told her.

  May just stared. Her voice was raspy, like when we’d found her.

  “Then she’s not coming,”

  • • •

  May led us higher than we’d ever been, near where Irene had placed the second tub of rice. Robbert’s aerial stuck out above us, a pyramid of gray rods rising from a metal box bolted to the stone.

  “It’s there.” May pointed down, beyond where we could see, into nowhere. “You have to be careful, but you can get there.”

  But we couldn’t see it. We couldn’t think it. We had never been so close to the edge, and May was pointing to go even closer.

  “I don’t think we can,” said Eleanor.

  “You have to. Watch me. Watch where I put my feet and hands.”

  But as soon as May began to clamber down, from behind us rose an echoing scatter of sounds—crashing and splitting, bangs and slams. We couldn’t see where they came from. May scrambled back, and quickly up to the aerial for a better view. She came down even faster.

  “What’s happening?” I called.

  “Is it Caroline?” asked Isobel.

  “No! Watch me! Watch my feet!”

  May made herself go slow so we could see, creeping farther out on a spur of rock. “One foot here, and then here . . . and then here—and your hands on this crack, one at a time. Don’t look down, and it’s just like going down steps.” She stopped, her body hanging over the sky, right at the point where another step would take her around and out of sight. “Who’s coming first?”

  No one wanted to come first. We weighed differently than May, different amounts in different places. Our hands and feet didn’t grip like hers—they weren’t as soft. It was a very long way down, onto the rocks if the tide was out, into the water if it wasn’t.

  “Eleanor!” shouted May. “You’re nearest—you first!”

  “But we’re not supposed to go near the edge!”

  “I’ll help you—don’t worry.”

  May came back to the first step, holding on with just one hand and one foot, perched in the air, and reached to Eleanor. Eleanor came to the edge, extremely slow and careful.

  “We’re not supposed to do this, May.”

  “I know. But you have to.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Isobel.

  “Yes!”

  “But we don’t know how,” said Eleanor.

  “I’ll tell you. Face the rocks. Move sideways, like a crab. Put your first foot there.”

  Eleanor nodded, blinking. Thinking about crabs was a helpful suggestion, as long as you didn’t fall. Not falling depended on strong arms and good balance. May could balance her whole body with one arm. I didn’t think we could.

  I tried to figure out how long it had taken to climb, and how soon anyone coming behind us might arrive. It could be any minute.

  Eleanor’s hand slipped, scraping moss off a rock she’d been trying to grip. May was right there, though, pressing a hand to Eleanor’s waist before she tipped backward. Eleanor got a better angle on the rock and held tight.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, May.”

  “Now step here.” May lifted her foot, nodding that Eleanor should step where she’d been. Eleanor did, then slowly shifte
d her hands at May’s direction. They were almost past the edge of the cliff, where we wouldn’t see them. May craned her head around Eleanor and called. “I’ll be right back for the next one!”

  “It helps to think about crabs,” called Eleanor, “and the rain trap.”

  They went around and we couldn’t see them. Isobel and I both thought hard about the rain trap, remembering how Irene and Robbert had secured it to the roof. The canvas was too heavy to be held by anything but all the ties together. Since they could only attach one tie at a time, one of them did the attaching and the other kept the rest of the canvas in place with both hands. So whenever Eleanor lifted a hand or foot, she made sure the rest of her hands and feet could balance all her weight, and we would have to do the same.

  Isobel pointed downhill. A plume of black smoke twisted up above the palm trees.

  “What’s being burned?”

  I shook my head. It could be a lot of things.

  “Pssst!” We turned to see May coming back.

  “Is Eleanor in your cave?” I asked.

  “Safe and sound. Who’s next?”

  Isobel was nearest, so she began to very cautiously step and grip in the exact places Eleanor had, with May’s free hand hovering just in case. Watching Isobel made me think of grasshoppers in the morning, dew still heavy on their wings, long legs picking a cautious path from stalk to stalk.

  “Watch your foot, that step is slippery,” whispered May.

  Isobel didn’t answer, blinking rapidly, but made sure her foot was settled before she moved her hand. I watched how she had to wedge her feet, because ours didn’t bend the same as May’s. They reached the curve, and then inched from sight.

  I stood alone. The black smoke had thickened. I heard new sounds, closer on the hill. Voices, getting louder. I had nowhere to go.

  I had seen Eleanor and Isobel. I thought about the rain trap and crabs and picked my way to the first step of their path, careful not to lean my head too far forward. It would be easy to just go headfirst off the peak. I remembered learning to use stairs, how Irene and Robbert had knelt to catch us when we fell, and how many times we’d needed to be caught. But finally we went up and down without a hitch, though smart girls always used the rail. Next had come walking uphill and downhill, and after that walking on sand. Each time Irene and Robbert had been there to make sure things worked.

  But, like all of us, I had been paying attention to why and how we improved.

  I inched my way out, gripping into the angled crack above my head and shifting my feet from spot to spot. The open space fell wide below me. I could hear the waves. The tide was in, crashing and strong. Part of me wanted to know how far down it was, but it meant turning my head which meant changing balance. Instead I stared at the rock in front of my eyes—the tiny bubbles from lava, moss, white spatters from the birds. I squeezed with each hand and tilted my feet, leaning into the peak instead of outward.

  Voices broke out behind me. Then a shout. More shouts, angry and sure.

  May’s face popped around the edge and almost knocked me off. Her hand shot out and caught me, pressing my chest against the rock.

  “Bloody hell—what are you doing?”

  But May had heard the voices, too, because she was whispering. She looked past me, her eyes wide. The arm on my back shifted to my hand and guided it quickly to the next hold, then dropped to my foot and did the same. In three quick steps I was around the edge. I didn’t see the cave. White waves smashed to foam on the black rocks below. I felt myself slipping, but May braced my leg. How much farther could I go?

  “Right here,” whispered May, then she hissed behind her. “Make room!”

  May swung herself down and half her body disappeared. She reached back, guiding my foot to its next spot. She pointed to my hand.

  “Hold on. We can catch you.”

  “I’m too heavy to catch. I can’t see the cave.”

  But she did catch me, and I wasn’t too heavy because the lip of the cave was right beneath my foot. May’s hands brought me in and Isobel and Eleanor were there, too, crouched in the low overhang. May held a finger to her mouth. I crawled in from the edge and we all listened.

  “Did they see me?” I whispered.

  May waved me to silence. The cave faced the water and the surf was loud. I couldn’t hear anything from where we’d been.

  From above us came another loud cracking rattle. Then smashing metal and even louder shouts. A blur of shadow fell past the cave, hurtling to the water. We pushed forward to look, but May held us back.

  It was the aerial. Whoever had thrown it down would be peeking over the edge to watch it land, and if we looked out they would see us, too.

  We waited. Was it only the aerial that had made them shout, or had they seen me, too? We couldn’t run any farther if they tried to climb in.

  I looked around the cave, wondering how May had ever found it. The rocks were still white from all the birds, but May had swept it mostly clean. In the back lay the blanket from Robbert’s bed, next to May’s own zipped bag, Irene’s water jug, and a stack of plastic tubs.

  Outside in the air the birds sailed past, gulls and terns, veering near but wheeling on when they saw their spots were taken.

  • • •

  We nearly didn’t hear. It had been an hour since the aerial fell into the sea. We had whispered about what to do, but May said to wait for everything to stop. No one knew what stopping meant, but since we couldn’t go back and forth to the cave like she could—we were lucky to have done it once—it was up to May to check things when she wanted, and right now she didn’t.

  She had just said she didn’t—again—and all of us were quiet. May scraped at the floor with a jagged piece of rock, carving lines in the chalky white. I touched her hand to make her stop.

  “Listen,” I said.

  It was a voice, thin and high. It was Caroline.

  Eleanor touched May’s arm. “You have to go!”

  “What is it?” asked May, because she hadn’t heard.

  “It’s Caroline,” I said.

  “You have to help her in!” said Isobel.

  “Bloody hell,” said May. “What if it’s a trap?”

  “It’s Caroline!” said Eleanor.

  “But how?” May shook her head. “How could she escape?”

  “She did!” said Isobel.

  “She must have hid like us,” said Eleanor.

  “I’ll go help her,” I said, trying to get past May. But May shoved me back and growled. She was out of the cave and clinging to the rocks before we knew it. I followed to the lip of the cave. May craned her head around the edge, toward the peak. I turned to Eleanor and Isobel. “Help me.”

  I put a hand where May had put hers, and then extended my foot into the air, feeling for the right stub of rock. I felt Isobel’s palm against my back, helping me balance. May disappeared around the edge. She was talking, but I couldn’t get the words. I inched along, Isobel having to reach so far to help me that Eleanor had to help her, too. I finally inched my head around. May was halfway back to the peak. Above her, right at the brink, tottered Caroline.

  Robbert’s satchel hung from her right shoulder, heavy with the notebook. Somehow she had found it and somehow she had found us, too. Her smock was torn and black with soot. Her smooth face had been scratched, the abrasions clogged with red dirt, looking like May’s scab. Caroline’s left arm hung limp, dangling from an inch of exposed cable at the shoulder socket.

  She dipped her torso and the satchel slipped clear. Caroline caught the strap before the notebook hit the ground, and then held it out for May.

  “You have to take it,” she said. “He put everything inside to keep us safe.”

  “Caroline!” I called.

  May whipped her head around. “What are you doing? Get back!”

  I didn’t care. “Caroline, what happened? Come with us—we’re safe!”

  “Take the notebook,” Caroline said to May. “Robbert made sure I knew it w
as important. Please.”

  May hurried forward. “Give me a second! I need my hands free to help you climb.”

  May caught the satchel strap and ducked her head through the loop, making sure it fell against her chest so its weight wouldn’t pull outward. She clambered into position and patted where Caroline needed to place her first foot.

  “Come on now.”

  “But we’re not supposed to go near the edge.”

  “That doesn’t matter. It’s all changed—come on now.”

  Caroline stepped near the edge, but she was weaving. Something had happened to her leg, too.

  “Careful!” cried May. “One foot at a time . . .”

  Caroline nodded, standing still. May looked back to me.

  I heard Isobel and Eleanor from the cave.

  “What’s happening?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She can’t climb,” hissed May.

  “Caroline!” I called. “Where did you go? Where are Robbert and Irene?”

  She turned to my voice, tottering again. It was her left leg, dimpled at the knee.

  “I saw the fire. I watched them break it all. Smash the aerial. I fell down.”

  “Where are Robbert and Irene?”

  “I don’t know.” She shook her head, as if those words were wrong. “I don’t understand. I didn’t see what to do.”

  “We couldn’t do anything,” I said.

  The wind pulled at her hair like it pulled mine.

  “Stay there,” called May. “We can find another place for you to hide.”

  “There isn’t one,” said Caroline softly. “I looked.”

  She stood at the cliff’s edge, blinking, trying with all her mind to answer all she’d seen.

  “May!” I whispered, pleading.

  May’s fingers squeezed the rock. I saw how tired she was, the tears in her black eyes. She inched closer to Caroline, reaching out. “We can try. Look at me! Put your hand where I have mine.”

  But Caroline’s eyes had swept past us, to the sky. Too late I realized her attention had been captured by the birds, soaring and diving around the peak. She stood in the center of a spinning globe, transfixed and taking refuge in the patterns.