A Girl Called Fearless

by Catherine Linka

  “All right,” Luke said, and he tipped his hat at me. “See you around, Avie.”

  I watched him cross over to his house. He’d lost his mom, too—but not the way I did. When Mom died, my heart felt like it was cut up into pieces. I wondered if it was worse to be abandoned.

  Snowflakes melted on my cheeks like tears as I hurried toward Beattie’s cabin. Up ahead, a man carrying a shotgun came out of his house, and clambered down his porch.

  Snow rained on his shaved head, and his black eyes were pinned on me. “You, chica!”

  Flashbacks exploded in my head. The gun against my eye. The hand on my throat. I forced myself to breathe as I clutched the strap of the gun bag. I sped up. Beattie’s was a few hundred feet ahead.

  The man leaped toward me through the snow, no coat over his thin shirt. His feet were completely bare. He was going to cut me off. I couldn’t reach Beattie’s before he got to me.

  He swung the shotgun up so it was pointed right at me. “Stop. Do not move.” His eyes were wild, like he was seeing something else entirely in front of him—not me, but an enemy.

  I froze. I had the gun, but he’d shoot me before I could put the clip in. I wished someone would look out the window. There had to be people in the houses on either side of us.

  The man scowled as he blocked the street in front of me. “You are an Outsider. We have rules. No Outsiders.”

  Don’t panic. You have to think, think how you’re going to get away from him.

  “You got a gun in that bag?”

  I knew lying could get me killed. It took all my strength to answer. “Yes.”

  “Put it down.”

  I fumbled with the strap on my shoulder.

  “NOW!”

  I dropped the bag. My heart pounded in my ears, making it impossible to think. Sweat trickled down my side, and I wished I could unzip my jacket, but I didn’t dare.

  Isn’t anyone going to help me?

  “Mr. Gomez!”

  The man took his eyes off me and focused on someone behind me. I wanted to turn around and look, but I was afraid to move.

  “Who is that?” the man called out.

  “It’s me, Luke Stanton, Mr. Gomez.” Luke sounded like he was greeting an old friend, like he didn’t see the barrel pointed at my face.

  Gomez squinted and shook his head. “Luke Stanton?”

  I listened to the delicate crunch of Luke’s boots moving closer.

  “Yeah, Ramos, you know. Rogan and Nellie’s son.”

  Luke came up beside me and laid his hand between my shoulder blades. “If I shove you, dive to the left,” he whispered.

  Ramos’ eyes relaxed. “Luke. Where you been, man?” The gun barrel began to lower toward the ground.

  Luke shrugged. “Working with Barnabas in the shop. Doing some trapping.” His hand fell off my back. “This here’s Avie.”

  The gun swung back up. “She’s an Outsider. We don’t allow no Outsiders.”

  Snow caught on my eyelashes, but I didn’t blink. My legs couldn’t hold me up much longer. “Avie’s a refugee,” Luke said quietly. “You helped refugees in the army, didn’t you, Ramos?”

  Ramos nodded like it was all coming back to him. “Yeah, we bandaged them up. Got extra food for the babies.”

  “You did a good thing, helping refugees.”

  “Only good thing I did in the war.”

  “My dad says the same thing.” Luke and Ramos shared a look. “We’re giving this girl sanctuary, if it’s all right with you.”

  Ramos looked at the snowflakes swirling around us. He swiped his hands over his scalp, then he looked down at his bare feet, confusion on his face.

  Without another word, he turned and walked toward his house and I didn’t move an inch until the door closed behind him. “Thank you,” I said.

  Luke picked the gun bag off the snow. “Let’s get you to Beattie’s.”

  I tried to take a step, but couldn’t. Luke put his arm through mine. “Ramos probably won’t bother you again. The war messed him up. He gets like this sometimes.”

  Luke walked me to Beattie’s like a fireman removing a victim from the scene of a blast. I got the feeling he wasn’t helping me because he liked me. It was more like he wanted to prevent Ramos from doing something that might send him over the edge.

  At Beattie’s porch, Luke hung the gun bag over my shoulder. In that brief moment, standing inches apart, I saw hints of Barnabas in his face. The eyes, the deliberate set of his mouth, his brow.

  “Thank you again,” I said.

  He nodded like I’d embarrassed him, then the door opened, and Beattie stepped out on the porch. “Luke. I see you’ve met Avie.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Luke hunched his shoulders and didn’t meet Beattie’s eyes.

  “Why don’t you come inside?”

  “No, thank you, Pastor Beattie. I best be getting home.” He stepped off the porch.

  “Carry a message to your mama for me?”

  “Yes, ma’am. What is it?”

  “Please ask Nellie if she will grant us the pleasure of your company at dinner. Six o’clock.”

  Luke’s head snapped up. He kept his voice completely calm, but he was ticked. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he spun on his heel and walked off without saying good-bye.

  Beattie took the gun bag off my shoulder. “You are white as a ghost. Something happen?”

  I told her about Ramos and Luke coming to my rescue.

  “Luke,” she said. “Always cool under pressure. But sometimes I wonder if there’s a storm inside that boy.”

  “Is Maggie here?” I asked. Dinner was going to be really interesting.

  “No. Did she stop at a neighbor’s?” Beattie said.

  “Oh, she must still be with Barnabas.” I tried not to show I knew about their past and Beattie tried to hide a smile.

  “Hmm. Not entirely unexpected,” Beattie said. “Come warm up. Keisha’s napping. She was up all night while the Johnston baby made up its mind to be born. The midwife’s still there, tending to the mother.”

  I curled up by the fire under a soft throw. I was so tired. So very, very tired. Still, as I dozed off, I couldn’t help picturing Luke’s face. There was a quiet strength there, like granite—all smooth will and determination.

  Yates would have tried to grab the gun from Ramos, but Luke got him to put down his weapon just by talking to him. I wished I was more like Luke. Calm under pressure. Able to keep more of my feelings under control, even when everything around me was going up in flames.

  I pictured Luke back in the barn, twirling his little brother and sister. His broad smile and chestnut-colored eyes were the last things I remembered before my thoughts drifted completely away.

  73

  I slowly eased into consciousness, watching Keisha set bowls out on the table. The room wasn’t completely in focus. Maggie was cutting what looked like cornbread. Beattie was in the kitchen.

  “Why are you putting out five bowls?” Maggie asked Keisha.

  “Beattie invited Luke.”

  “You didn’t,” Maggie snapped at Beattie. “I told you I don’t want to pressure him.”

  “You’re not, I am. And given that this could be the last chance he will ever have to get to know you, the two of you need to sit across the table from one another.”

  Keisha caught me staring. “You’re awake.”

  “Not really. My head’s pretty fuzzy.”

  Keisha was even prettier than in her picture. Flawless, caramel-colored skin and thick black eyelashes. The kind of gorgeous that, if she lived in L.A., would turn her Contract auction into a live broadcast.

  Beattie handed me a glass of water. “You need to keep hydrated.”

  “You guys are obsessed with hydration,” I answered, but the water tasted so fresh and pure, I drank the whole glass.

  “Well, are we going to wait for our guest,” Maggie asked, “or are we going to eat this food while it’s hot?”

  Beattie checked the clock over
the mantel. Six-thirty. Her smile was calm, almost sad. “No, we can sit down.”

  We linked hands for grace. Beattie thanked God, Allah, and Yahweh for protecting Maggie and me on our journey. I wondered if she ever added a little thank-you for Smith & Wesson.

  Keisha filled my glass. “Have you ever been to Disney World?”

  Beattie and Maggie burst out laughing. “You just helped birth a baby this morning and you want to talk about Disney World?”

  “Nobody around here’s been,” Keisha said back. “So, have you?”

  “No,” I said, “but I’ve been to Disneyland.”

  “We used to go all the time when I lived in Florida.”

  So Keisha didn’t grow up here. “What did you like best?” I said.

  “The teacups. I know they’re not exciting, but Mom and I used to spin as fast as we could, and when we got off, we’d stagger around, holding on to each other so we didn’t fall down.”

  “Yeah, I remember the teacups, but my mom and I always rode Dumbo together.”

  “The one where you press the lever and make the Dumbos fly?”

  “Yeah.” I smiled, feeling Mom’s arms around me, letting me control how high we went.

  “Are there any new rides?” Keisha asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t been there in a while.” I didn’t want to tell her Disneyland was closed except on weekends and holidays, and girls my age never went there anyway. Bodyguards hated crowds.

  “I heard you’re running from a Contract.”

  My mouth dropped open. I glanced from Maggie to Beattie, not sure what they’d told Keisha or what they wanted me to say.

  “Don’t look at me,” Beattie said.

  “Obviously, somebody said something,” Maggie said.

  “I guess I mentioned something to Nellie,” I said.

  “Tell one person, you’ve told the whole town,” Beattie said.

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” I bent over my bowl, my cheeks flaming.

  “Why did you run?” Keisha asked.

  “There’s someone, a boy I’m … seeing.”

  “What’s he like, your boyfriend?” Keisha said.

  “He must be very special,” Maggie muttered into her chili. “She dumped a millionaire for him.”

  “A millionaire?” Keisha gasped. “You could have been rich.”

  “Keisha. Don’t be shallow,” Beattie said.

  Keisha winced, but she still looked at me, expecting an answer.

  “He was cruel. Completely controlling,” I said.

  “But your boyfriend’s nice?”

  Nice didn’t describe Yates. Risking prison to help girls escape? I searched around for the right word, but all I came up with was, “He’s really caring.”

  “And I’m guessing he’s cute,” Keisha said.

  I bobbed my head, embarrassed at how that made me look shallow. “Yeah.”

  Keisha asked who Yates looked like, and named some TV stars I used to watch on the kids’ channel. I picked a guy with dark hair, but that was basically the only similarity. The worst thing that actor ever had to deal with was being chased by paparazzi.

  “What is your boyfriend doing with his life?” Beattie said.

  “He goes to college, and works part-time at a restaurant. He volunteers at church.”

  “What is he studying?”

  “Social justice.”

  “A cru-sa-der.” Maggie drew out the syllables, baiting me to look at her. “No surprise there.”

  “Why?” I said.

  “Because that’s what you are.”

  “No, I’m not.” Mom was a crusader. Sparrow, too. But definitely not me.

  “Then how’d you end up here?”

  I glared at Maggie, wishing I could smack that smug smile off her face. She was pushing me like she wanted me to get angry.

  “You could have stayed silent when the government lied about Sparrow, but you didn’t.”

  “Yeah, but that was just me acting on an insane impulse. I’m not like Sparrow.”

  “Then why did she choose you out of all the girls around her to deliver her message?”

  Because she knew I’d do it. Because she knew how I felt about the feds sticking it to us. “I’d never do what Sparrow did.”

  “What did she do?” Keisha said.

  “She set herself on fire on the Capitol steps,” Maggie answered.

  “She what?”

  Beattie reached across the table. “It’s a form of political protest. Throughout history, people have immolated themselves to bring attention to war and oppression.”

  Keisha ignored Beattie’s hand. She turned to Maggie. “But how could she do that!”

  “Because she was deadly passionate about her cause.”

  Maggie was ticking me off. “No,” I said. “Sparrow was sick. People who are passionate about a cause might be so obsessed they take crazy risks or neglect their families or make their entire existence about the cause. But only ones who are really sick throw away their lives. Sparrow did not have to die.”

  Maggie’s mouth went flat, and I guessed I’d touched a nerve talking about people who neglect their families.

  “You regret blasting that message,” Maggie said. “And not because you’re stuck in backwoods Idaho. You’re mad, because you know that now you might never get that perfect life you dreamed about in Canada with your cute, caring, socially aware boyfriend.”

  A blast of heat roared through me.

  “Maggie—” Beattie tried, but Maggie ignored her.

  She tapped her finger on the table, punctuating each word. “You can cross that border and reunite with your boyfriend, but your life will never be normal. He’s probably already seen Sparrow’s video, and he’s going to ask you about what went down in Vegas. And when he finds out that you’re hiding what you’ve witnessed—that you have evidence that can help bring down the very people he’s fighting—”

  She was completely wrong. Wrong about me. Wrong about— “You don’t know anything about Yates.”

  “You’re fooling yourself.”

  I stood up, dizzy, hot, and ready to shove Maggie out of that chair. “Screw you.” I grabbed my bowl off the table.

  She thinks she knows everything. But what if she’s right about how I’ll never be able to keep Vegas a secret, how Yates will never let it go until he knows the truth?

  There was a knock at the door. No one moved, then Beattie chuckled. “I guess we’ve got company after all. Since you’re up, Avie, why don’t you get the door.”

  Great. Now Maggie could face her unfinished business, just like she was making me face mine. I wrenched open the door.

  “Hi.”

  Luke stood in the doorway, a pie steaming in his hands. “Sorry I’m late. Nellie sent this. It’s apple berry.”

  I could feel my cheeks turn as pink as the berries under the crust. “Come in. We saved you a place.”

  “Hi, Luke,” Keisha said as he approached the table.

  “Hi, Keisha.”

  I wondered vaguely if there might be something between them—it’s not like there were too many people our age here.

  Luke took the empty place across from Maggie. I smiled to myself. Her turn to be in the hot seat.

  I was not disappointed. Keisha poured Luke some coffee. Beattie cut into the pie and Luke leaned back in his chair and said, “Who’s chasing you, Margaret?”

  She sipped her coffee all cool and collected. “It’s best we don’t discuss that. Let’s talk about something else.”

  Beattie passed around the pie, and Keisha and I exchanged glances. The tension was thick.

  “I hear the trapping’s been good this year,” Maggie tried.

  “Yeah, bobcat. Some beaver.”

  I pictured Luke with a bobcat slung over his shoulders, like a Viking Warrior with golden fur framing his face.

  “Barnabas tells me you’re building a mandolin,” Maggie said.

  “I’m doing the sanding is all.”

&nb
sp; Maggie’s smile was as tight as a guitar string. “How’s school coming?”

  Heat was coming off Luke’s body, and I caught his warm soap smell. “I’m almost done,” he said. “I’ll have my diploma come April.”

  Beattie piped up. “He’s done well, Maggie.”

  Maggie weighed her fork before she spoke. “I’ve got funds set aside in case you’d like to go to college. I could arrange an identity for you.”

  I barely knew Luke, but even I knew Maggie was screwing up.

  “I’m not like you,” Luke said, his voice warning her. “I like it here. I’ve got everything I need.”

  “I talked to your father—”

  “Which father? The one you ran out on or the one you palmed me off on so you could go to college?”

  Maggie flinched, and I almost felt sorry for her. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Nellie and Rogan, but Barnabas and I hope you’ll continue your education—”

  Luke pulled a thick book out of his jacket and slammed it on the table: Stillness at Appomattox. “I read plenty.”

  Maggie stared at the cover.

  “I don’t want your world,” Luke said. “Full of theories and philosophies and high-minded principles—but not one ounce of what counts.” He stood up, almost knocking over his chair. “Thanks for the coffee, Pastor Beattie.”

  I was surprised by how gently Luke closed the door on his way out.

  “Happy now?” Maggie snapped at Beattie

  Keisha and I hunkered down over our pie.

  “Yes,” Beattie said. “Finally, you’re talking.”

  We finished the pie in silence, and the way Maggie choked hers down it must have tasted like regret. I didn’t know why she’d done what she did, but she was living with the consequences. Maybe that’s why Maggie had blistered me with that speech about how I could run off to Canada and reunite with Yates, but my life would never be normal again. Because she’d learned that sometimes what you did couldn’t be fixed and it couldn’t be erased.

  I only hoped that, as far as I was concerned, she was wrong.

  74

  Keisha got me alone in her room after dinner, and bombarded me with questions about Yates and what it was like to have a boyfriend. And each one I answered made my heart ache. I didn’t know if he was safe. If Hawkins was having him tailed. How long I’d have to wait to contact him after I got to Canada, if I got there.