Damaged Goods

by Jennifer Bardsley

  “What are you talking about? What notes?” Cal’s voice is full of worry.

  I pull out the crumpled paper from my motorcycle jacket. “This one was on my bike today,” I say. “Outside of the FBI.” I tell them about the other papers, the one that was slipped in my pocket at the engagement party and the letter that was delivered to Alan.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” asks Cal.

  “Or me?” demands Seth.

  I look down at my hands and shrug. “I don’t know.”

  But the truth is, maybe I do know. Because a little part of me felt pleased. It was nice knowing I was still important enough for the Vestals to take notice. Even if it was to control me.

  “What if it was Headmaster Russell?” Pilar suggests. “He’s a monster!” Her eyes spark with fire.

  Fatima stares at Seth accusingly. “And you wanted us to go out.”

  “You can’t live in fear forever,” Seth mumbles.

  But Seth doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

  Chapter Eight

  Again and again she circles her point. She wants me to cower in submission. She wants me to spill secrets and betray my innermost soul. With her curly red bun and corduroy skirt, she tries to look innocent. But I know better. This woman is not to be trusted. If Seth weren’t waiting for me in the limo with Alan, I would bolt out of Dr. Meredith’s office immediately and never come back.

  “How does Headmaster Russell’s escape make you feel, Blanca?” Dr. Meredith writes notes about me with her finger-chips.

  I decide to use a Vestal strategy called Questions. I’ll answer Dr. Meredith with questions until she gives up on interrogating me.

  “How do you think I feel?” I reply.

  Dr. Meredith eyes me with curiosity. “Scared. Worried. Perhaps anxious. Is that why you didn’t tell Cal or Seth about the notes?”

  “You know about the notes?”

  “Yes.” She holds her fingers still. “I do.”

  “Isn’t what’s said in a therapist’s office confidential?” I ask.

  Of course it isn’t. I’m not stupid.

  Dr. Meredith colors. “Sometimes in family therapy there are situations that overlap.”

  “And do you think that’s appropriate?” I ask. “To betray one person’s confidence to help another?”

  “If the client gives me permission to share, it is completely acceptable.” Dr. Meredith pulls a wisp of auburn hair behind her ear.

  “But how can clients trust you knowing that stories revealed in these four walls might be shared?”

  “Blanca, it’s called ‘doctor-patient confidentiality,’ and it means that you can trust me.”

  I keep my face as neutral as possible so I don’t betray anything I feel. “You really want me to believe that, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do.” Dr. Meredith clicks off her finger-chips. “Let’s talk more about Russell.”

  “You know it’s Headmaster Russell, correct?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “Russell is his last name, not his first.” Damn. I broke my streak of questions.

  “Does it matter to you what I call him?”

  “Does it matter to you?” I ask back.

  “Well, he’s the man who beat you as a child. Who whipped you when you were too little to fight back. Can you tell me about Discipline Hour?”

  “Discipline Hour?”

  You’re weak, Blanca. You need atonement.

  Me, kneeling before the pool of purity, the concrete scraping the thin cotton of my black pants.

  “Yes. Discipline Hour. Describe it to me, Blanca.”

  “Where should I start?”

  “Where would you like to start?”

  Nowhere. I don’t want to talk about any of it. What happened to me when I was little is none of this lady’s business. I stare down at my wrist where my cuff used to be. “Would you like to hear that Vestal training was difficult?”

  “That’s a good beginning. Anything else?”

  “Isn’t it enough that I live in the real world with the McNeals now and everything is okay?”

  “If everything is okay, then why do you keep spinning your watch around your left wrist?”

  I freeze both hands immediately.

  Dr. Meredith squints her eyes and examines me closely. “Let’s talk about what happened to you when you were fourteen. When they forced you to undergo an operation that left you sterilized.”

  “Seth told me it can be reversed,” I blurt out.

  Forget this. The sooner this appointment is over, the better.

  Dr. Meredith’s eyebrows raise at my unprecedented reveal of information. “So have you and Seth talked about the possibility of having children someday?”

  “Should we talk about it?” I ask.

  “Is motherhood a role you would want?”

  “Don’t you think I should focus on college now?”

  I’m only nineteen years old. No way should I have my whole life planned out at nineteen. That’s something a Vestal would do. Dr. Meredith is the crazy one.

  “But you and Seth are in a serious relationship,” Dr. Meredith says. “Surely the topic of an unplanned pregnancy must have come up.”

  “Why would it come up? I’m sterilized, remember? And why are you so interested in what Seth and I do in the bedroom. Did Cal pay you to find out?”

  “Of course not.” Dr. Meredith sits back in her chair and looks at me across her long slanted nose. “It’s interesting to me that you mentioned Cal just now. Do you expect Cal to meddle in your life?”

  “No,” I say definitively.

  Unless he thought I was in danger. Then Cal would stick his nose where it didn’t belong.

  Seth should be here. The deal was he would escort me to and from Dr. Meredith’s office. When I freaked out about my appointment this morning, Seth promised that he would wait for me. But when I step out into the piercing sunlight, Seth is nowhere to be found. All I see is Alan.

  “Where’s Seth?” I plant my feet on the pavement and don’t budge.

  Alan holds his hat in his hand and rumples the brim. “Something came up,” he says. “Seth had a hot tip on Veritas Rex to follow. But don’t worry, Ms. Blanca. I can take you home.”

  I’ll take my fury out on Seth later. “Okay,” I say to Alan. “I have a tutoring session with Irene in twenty minutes.”

  “We’ll be there in no time, Miss Blanca.” Alan holds open the door for me.

  The plush interior of the backseat is a welcome relief, especially since the privacy divider is closed. I pour myself a glass of water from the crystal decanter and buckle my seat belt.

  When the car rolls, I stare out the window and hunt for billboards. No matter how many times I see Vestal advertisements, I still smile. It’s like being watched over by larger-than-life friends.

  I’m so intent on looking for advertisements that it takes me a few minutes to notice that Alan’s headed in the wrong direction.

  “Alan,” I rap on the divider, “we’re going to the manor. Remember?”

  But instead of turning the car around, Alan gets on the highway, headed south.

  “Alan?” I slide open the panel in case he can’t hear me.

  The second I see what’s in front of me I scream.

  “Alan isn’t here anymore,” says Headmaster Russell.

  His wicked laugh turns my blood to ice.

  Chapter Nine

  Dr. Meredith’s office seems a million years ago. Her questions can’t hurt me no matter how deep they probe. But the man in the driver’s seat is real.

  And he’s terrifying.

  “There’s no need to scream, Blanca,” says Headmaster Russell. “It’s not like you to be so dramatic.”

  “Yes, Headmaster Russell. I mean no, Headmaster Russell. It isn’t.”

  “Didn’t you expect to see me?”

  “No, sir. I didn’t.”

 
; “But surely you knew I’d come.”

  “Yes, Headmaster Russell. Of course, Headmaster Russell.” Vestals avenge all wrongs especially when our honor is at stake. “Where are you taking me, sir?” It’s hard to keep fear from my voice.

  “Not only you,” says Headmaster Russell. “Your scumbag too.” Keeping his left hand on the wheel, Headmaster Russell reaches over to the passenger’s seat and pulls a blanket away.

  Underneath is Seth, bound and gagged. His hands are locked into lead-lined mitts, and his wrists are fastened to a pipe bomb.

  “Blaaaahh!” Seth yells before Headmaster Russell throws the blanket back down.

  “What are you doing? Where are we going?” I’ve lost control of my tone. Headmaster Russell will sense my hysteria.

  “You’ll see soon enough. But first we need to deal with your boyfriend.”

  “No.” My heartbeat pounds. “Let him go. Leave Seth out of this!”

  “Oh, Blanca.” Headmaster Russell’s voice is soft. “You know I can’t allow that. What do we say about Viruses? I know you remember.”

  “‘You can’t ever trust a Virus.’” The lie rolls off my tongue from the deep banks of my memory. “But Seth is more than a Virus. He’s also my friend.”

  Headmaster Russell laughs. “Your ‘friend’? Too bad for him. Your last friend didn’t fare too well.”

  The words sting. But they also confuse me. Does he mean Ethan? Or Fatima? Or …

  “Seth isn’t a threat,” I state. “He doesn’t want anything to do with the Vestals. He doesn’t care about power. He won’t question your authority.”

  “Too late!” Headmaster Russell shouts. “That simpering idiot Corina is Headmaster now.”

  “She can barely hold things together,” I say. “Tabula Rasa is falling apart.” If you want to control somebody instead of be controlled, tell that person what they want to hear.

  “I’m not surprised,” growls Headmaster Russell. “All Corina is good for is fancy charm lessons.”

  “That’s so true, Headmaster Russell.” From the corner of my eye, I see Seth’s blanket shift. “It would be better for everyone if you were back in charge.” A hand. I see Seth’s hand! There’s a sliver of duct tape. “Maybe I could find a way to make that happen.”

  “You!” Headmaster Russell laughs derisively. “How could you fix things? You’re the one who is responsible for all of it. Today I pay back old debts.”

  With a suddenness that jolts my pulse to staccato, the blanket moves, and Seth lurches toward the steering wheel. “Naaaaahh!” Seth yells through the gag.

  The car veers left, headed straight for oncoming traffic. Headmaster Russell wrenches the steering wheel back, and the momentum tosses Seth’s body like a rag doll. Headmaster Russell regains control of the car and then sprays Seth with a fine mist that clouds the passenger’s seat.

  Seth screams.

  “Pepper spray,” says Headmaster Russell. “It works every time.”

  Seth writhes in agony an arm’s length away.

  My nostrils burn as some of the vapor comes my direction. Panic clutches my insides. Fear saturates every pore. “What do you want?”

  “To fix old mistakes.”

  “I want that too.” The words rush out on instinct. “I’ll do whatever you want. But please don’t hurt Seth.”

  “Virus,” Headmaster Russell corrects. “He’s a Virus, not a person. And Vestals don’t concern themselves with scum.”

  “Yes, Headmaster Russell. Of course, Headmaster Russell.”

  My gaze lands on the crystal decanter of water. I reach out surreptitiously to grab it. A plan formulates in my mind.

  I’ll wait for an intersection. For the car to pause. Then, I’ll clobber him.

  I glance out the window to get my bearings. An old-fashioned sign decaying with age passes by. gilroy. garlic capitol of the world. Underneath is a faded picture of garlic, the paint peeling in the hot California sun.

  “What’s in Gilroy?” I ask.

  “You’ll see.” Headmaster Russell pulls off the highway onto a quiet exit. We’re surrounded by abandoned farmland. The dirt is cracked and dusty, forever parched by drought.

  Now could be my chance. If we veer off the road, we won’t hit anything but sage brush. I tighten my grip on the crystal.

  But then a van pulls up next to us with a mother and children. I can’t risk crashing into them.

  “You were always such a good teacher,” I say. Make them feel important. “The other day the FBI interviewed me and I was really scared. But I knew exactly what to say because of you.”

  “And what was that?” Headmaster Russell eyes me through the rearview mirror. His face is flushed red with heat.

  “They wanted to know about the Guardians. So I recited verbatim from my textbook.”

  “That was stupid!” Headmaster Russell snaps.

  My head jerks like I was slapped. “What do you mean?”

  “You should have told them everything. The Guardians are the biggest threat to the Vestal order we know.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “Enough questions!” Headmaster Russell slams the privacy divider shut.

  I loosen my grip on the decanter and feel sick inside. Have I missed my chance?

  I look out the window to rows of abandoned garlic fields. Occasionally I see a signs that say save our aquifer or garlic not golf. It’s hard to imagine that this area once contained rich farmland.

  Ahead of us, in the distance, is a cluster of aging gray houses. The limo veers left into extensive farmland.

  “We’re almost there,” says Headmaster Russell. He slides open the divider once more and smiles back at me in the rearview mirror. “Wait until you see what I’ve planned for your Virus.”

  Now’s my moment! I can’t wait any longer. I grab the crystal decanter and pound my arm through the opening to the front seat. But in my haste, I miss Headmaster Russell and shatter the windshield instead.

  “What the?” shouts Headmaster Russell as glass bombards him from every angle. Shards scatter back to me, and I feel wetness. My whole body slams forward as the car lurches to a stop. I hear the screech of wheels. I barely pick myself up from the floor when I see Headmaster Russell, his face gashed and oozing, lean back to attack me with the pepper spray.

  “No!” I hold up my arms like a shield.

  But the expected assault never comes.

  Instead, somebody flings the car door open and hauls me out with strong arms.

  When I look up, I see Keung.

  And he smiles.

  The row of perfect teeth gleams, but Keung’s grin does nothing to soften the sharp, square edges of his jaw. Keung is a head taller than me and almost twice my size—in pure muscle. His black shirt bulges at the biceps, the cloth stretched across broad shoulders. The last time I saw Keung, I was sixteen and he was eighteen. Now, three years later, the pull of attraction is as strong as ever.

  Guardians swarm all around us. Black cars are parked behind us, blocking the road. I hear rapid-fire Mandarin and Headmaster Russell screaming obscenities.

  Keung sets me on the sidewalk with steady hands. “Are you okay?

  I nod. “It’s you!” I say like an idiot. Then I glance back to the limo. “Seth! He’s tied to an explosive.”

  Keung barks an order to one of his companions, a tall skinny guy I don’t recognize with a scar across his face, who releases Seth from the car.

  I know Keung is here to rescue me. I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. But I’m not positive that protection will extend to my boyfriend. “Please help Seth before it’s too late,” I blurt.

  “Don’t worry,” answers Keung. “We’ll take real good care of Seth.”

  Chapter Ten

  I clench onto Keung, afraid that nerves will knock me over. The warm span of his hand steadies the small of my back. Keung was always good at taking care of people. He watched out for his friends and anni
hilated his enemies. I think that’s why Fatima liked him so much. She was on a break with Beau when we first met him. Plus, the Tabula Rasa teachers told us to stay away from the Guardians. After that ultimatum, there was no stopping her. Fatima was obsessed with our new Chinese exchange students, and most especially Keung, who was not only the best looking but the ringleader of them all.

  Some things never change.

  I lived at Tabula Rasa my whole life, so I was used to seeing Guardians come and go. In many ways, they were similar to us Vestals. They were cut off from society and kept private and hidden. Like us, their parents had given them up in the hopes that they would have a better life.

  But the difference was scale. Instead of ten Vestal graduates each year, there were hundreds of Guardians. Enough to send a small handful to America to perfect their English and serve as cheap language tutors for Tabula Rasa students.

  Of course, by cheap, Headmaster Russell meant free. He worked the Guardians harder than his minions. The only time I saw Keung or his friends relax was the two hours they spent in the gym each day practicing martial arts.

  Suddenly, Fatima was very interested in PE.

  But Fatima isn’t here now, I’m not sure where here is, and there are some wounds that never heal, no matter how much time has passed.

  The Guardian that holds Seth wields a gigantic knife.

  I look up at Keung with pleading eyes. “Please don’t let anything happen to Seth.”

  The skinny guy with the scar lifts up his blade. Another one stands inches away.

  “Please!” I cry again.

  “Relax, tiānshĭ,” Keung murmurs. “You’re safe now.”

  With several vigorous saws, the Guardian cuts the ties that bind Seth’s hands and feet and rips the gag from his mouth. His companion removes the pipe bomb and cradles it like a newborn.

  “Blanca?” Seth rubs his eyes with the lead-lined mitts. “Are you there? All I see is red.”

  I fly around the car and throw myself into his arms. The acrid stench of sweat greets me, but Seth has never smelled so good.