Race the Night

by Kirsten Hubbard

“Did we find who?”

  “Robin!” Eider said. What was going on? “Where is she?”

  Nurse looked distressed. “Oh dear,” he said. “Why don’t you get some more rest, kiddo? Clearly, you’re still unwell.”

  “Not until you tell me what happened to my sister!”

  “Eider…” Teacher tipped her head one way, then the other. “You don’t have a sister.”

  Weeks passed before Eider felt ready to visit the cement slabs alone. Not just because of the alone part—all the new structure stalled her, too. All the new rules.

  Everything had a set schedule now. A time and a place. They had little time for hobbies like tinkering, drawing, even dancing—which didn’t matter much, since Eider’s ballet shoes were gone. Along with any mention of Robin. Whenever Eider said her sister’s name, the other kids ignored her, changed the subject, or worse. She’d never felt more alone.

  And in the classroom, where rows of bookshelves had once stood, now there was only one. “What’s going on?” Finch asked.

  “Don’t speak unless you’re called on,” Teacher said sharply.

  Finch looked stunned.

  “I used to think I should share as much from Before as possible. To let in everything I possibly could: all the storms, and all the sunlight, too. But by opening those windows, I allowed your minds to meander, instead of focus.”

  Teacher set the very first World Book in the middle of the table. “From now on, lessons will be structured around these books, starting with A.”

  Eider didn’t even look at it. She was too busy drowning in the empty space where a chair had never been.

  That night, her loneliness turned to restlessness. She made sure Avis and Linnet were asleep. She checked that Teacher’s lights were off. Nurse’s, too. It felt like a whole lot of effort, when her only intention was to think. But she didn’t want to get in trouble.

  As Eider approached the slabs, she noticed something sitting on top of one of them. An odd-shaped lump in the dark. She hurried closer, barely daring to hope.

  It was her fairytale book.

  Heaped with dust, like it’d been there a long time. Since whenever Eider had last read it, before she and—

  Before Eider had run away.

  She shook off all the dust, then stuffed the book inside her overalls. She needed to hide it. Somewhere good—somewhere Teacher would never find it. The date grove? The storage room? She didn’t know, but it was a spark of hope in a desert gone dark. A light that would comfort her through three years of night. Missing a sister who’d never existed.

  BUT ROBIN HAD EXISTED.

  Eider knew that now. Linnet had stirred up the memories that were always there, just beneath the surface. Like stars in her soup. Eider had always pushed them back, her memories-that-were. But not anymore—and never again.

  Robin had been real.

  Which meant that she still was.

  TEACHER HADN’T JUST HIDDEN THE truth this time.

  She’d lied. On purpose.

  And not only Teacher, but Nurse and the other kids, too.

  Eider thought of all the times she’d brought up Robin over the years. Deliberately, or accidentally. And the times the other kids had brought her up themselves. Even recently: like Jay, who’d been so awful about it. And Avis, too! It was even meaner now, in retrospect. So mean it took Eider’s breath away.

  For three years, the other kids had shared a secret with Teacher that Eider wasn’t in on. But why? Why had they gone along with it? Because Teacher had told them to? Or had they somehow forgotten Robin had been real? Had their brains been pinched and prodded, like Eider’s—just more successfully?

  Eider didn’t know. She felt more alone than ever.

  Alone—but also relieved.

  A great weight had lifted from her shoulders. A desert’s worth of dust and wind. As she left the trailer the next morning, she tilted back her tear-streaked face and felt the sunshine on her skin. Sunshine, and starlight, too. Because the sun was a star, wasn’t it? She reached for the sky with both arms. The sky, and the world Beyond.

  Where all this time, Robin had been waiting to reach back.

  Eider barely spoke to anyone the next few days. Not even to Linnet, though she slipped her a quiet smile or two.

  She wanted to, though. She wanted to poke Finch so hard he yelped, grab Avis by her remaining hair, bash Jay over the head with his coyote skull. Call them liars, every last one of them. Nurse and Teacher, too. Teacher, the most.

  But she didn’t.

  She kept trying at lessons. She cared less than ever, but she didn’t want Teacher to notice the change in her. The wheels in her head that had started to turn. The light peeking through after years of cloud cover.

  Teacher had been hiding the truth—now, Eider knew that for sure. And not only about the reality of Robin. But why? All those lies had to have a point. If Teacher was hiding something else from them, something more…where would she keep it?

  Eider was pretty sure she knew the answer: Teacher’s office.

  Though Eider was intrigued by off-limits places, she’d never found it that interesting. Maybe because Teacher had never made it sound particularly exciting. “Work, work, work,” she’d say before heading over.

  But what kind of work? Lesson planning couldn’t account for all the time Teacher spent there, especially lately. What other work did she do? What was in there, anyway? Delicious food? Narwhals and puffins and automobiles? Secret papers? Books?

  Books.

  The books were in Teacher’s office! They had to be. All the books Teacher had taken away three years ago. Unless she’d burned them, like Finch’s notebooks. But even if Eider found the books, what would that prove? The other kids already knew Teacher had taken them.

  The office must hold some other kind of evidence. Some other proof of Teacher’s lies. If Eider was going to find it, she needed help.

  But who could she trust?

  Linnet had been so brave, telling Eider the truth about Robin. But she was far too timid to help with something this risky. Eider sure wasn’t about to ask Jay. And she couldn’t ask Finch, not after he’d been disciplined.

  Then there was Avis.

  Avis, who’d lied about Robin, like everybody else. Lied while brushing and braiding Eider’s hair. Lied while Eider shared her secret thoughts about Beyond and Before. Lied and lied and lied.

  But she’d been there for Eider after her fever. She stood up for Eider whenever Jay teased her. A couple times, she’d even let Eider read her a story.

  Avis was Eider’s best friend.

  If Eider couldn’t rely on her, what was the point of having a best friend at all?

  During Free Play, Eider found Avis behind the classroom, flipping through a stack of mind-reading cards.

  The sight made Eider pause. Avis had never been the type to study outside of lessons. Eider watched her pick a card and squint at the back. Jot something in her notebook, then flip the card over. “Darn it,” she muttered.

  “Avis,” Eider said.

  Avis glanced up. “Oh,” she said, looking embarrassed. Quickly, she straightened the stack of cards and wrapped a rubber band around them. “I was just goofing around.”

  Eider waved her hand. “I don’t care. We need to talk.”

  “About what? I’m kind of busy….”

  “Busy goofing around?” Eider raised her eyebrows. “I really need to talk to you. It’s serious. Very serious. Can we go to the date grove?”

  “I don’t like it there. There’s spiders.”

  “There are spiders everywhere, Avis. Come on.”

  “Can’t we talk right here?”

  Eider exhaled, a little storm of frustration. Already, Avis was making this hard for her. But then again, hadn’t she always? Anytime Eider brought up a serious topic, Avis acted annoyed or changed the subject. “Please, Avis?”

  Avis sighed. “Fine.”

  Minutes later, they stood in the shade of the date grove. A breeze ruffl
ed the palm fronds, and a bird trilled softly overhead.

  “So what is this about?” Avis asked haughtily. “Because—”

  “You lied to me.”

  “No I didn’t. About what?”

  “About…” Eider took a deep breath. “About Robin.”

  Avis rolled her eyes. “Eider! You’re talking crazy again. You know she doesn’t—”

  “Yes, she does. Linnet told me the truth.”

  “Linnet?” Avis tried to roll her eyes again, but they didn’t quite make it. “She doesn’t know—she’s probably confused….”

  “Stop lying to me, Avis!”

  Eider yelled it in her best friend’s face. She hadn’t even meant to—it just came out. All those months and years swallowing it down. All that time calling Avis her best friend, and Avis agreeing.

  Avis’s haughty expression started to slip. And then it crumpled.

  “Eider, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice breaking. “Teacher told us to. She made us.”

  “Made you how?”

  “She said it was the only way to make sure you got well. That you couldn’t move forward with your feet stuck in the past. You were sick in the head.”

  “I was sick with a rattlesnake bite!”

  “But it made you crazy. Do you know the things you said? Real crazy stuff—not just about Robin. About talking foxes, and mermaids, and people who came from the stars. And you kept crying out for her. All day and all night. We were so worried about you, Eider. It made us feel crazy, too.”

  Eider paused. “I didn’t realize…”

  “Of course you didn’t realize. You still don’t—that it wasn’t only you who had to move on. It was all of us. Because Robin wasn’t just yours.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That we all missed her, Eider!” Avis was crying now. “We were all scared and sad. Not as much as you, of course, I’m not saying that. I know how close you were. I was jealous of you two. We’ve never been as close.”

  “Yeah, but…she was my sister.”

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  Eider didn’t want to argue. “It’s just…Robin looked at stuff the same way as me, you know? Outward instead of inward. You never want to—you hate it when I do.”

  “Because we’re not supposed to.”

  “Says who?”

  “Teacher.”

  Eider reached out and grabbed Avis’s hand. “That’s the thing,” she said. “Don’t you see? Teacher is the one who started the lie in the first place. She made you lie to me. Why should we trust her? Why should we keep doing what she says?”

  Avis pulled her hand away. “Eider!”

  “You know she’s lied about other stuff. You know it. I met somebody, Avis! A hiker, when I was out exploring. He had blue shoes for walking far. And a thing with magic moving pictures on it.”

  “Magic moving what? What are you even talking about?”

  Eider knew she was sounding crazy again, even though she was telling the truth. “Never mind. I’ll explain later. But I need to know what else Teacher is lying about. We need to know. Will you help me, Avis?”

  “I don’t want to get in trouble again.” Avis sniffled.

  “It’ll be worth it. I swear.” Eider took a deep breath, then explained the plan she’d come up with. Avis’s eyes alternately widened and narrowed, widened and narrowed. And then they stayed narrowed.

  “Eider…” she said.

  Eider leaned in, but she didn’t yell this time. She spoke firmly. The way Teacher did when she gave orders. “You owe me this, Avis. Are you my best friend, or not?”

  “Yeah! But best friends don’t get other friends in trouble.”

  “We won’t get in trouble,” Eider said. “As long as you help me.”

  She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. Which wasn’t particularly confident at all.

  ALL EIDER NEEDED TO DO was wait for a drill.

  Drills could come at any time, from dawn until dusk or dusk until dawn. Eider had to be prepared at every moment. Listening with her fingers. Looking with her nose. Feeling with her eyes.

  Extrasensory lessons had really paid off. When the alarm finally sounded a few days later, Eider was ready.

  Eeeeeee. Eeeeeee. Eeeeeee.

  They’d just sat down in the dining area for lunch (lumpy lentil soup, yuck). Everybody groaned except Eider and Avis. Jay scooped up his bowl and mug. “I’m taking these with me.”

  Avis had avoided Eider’s eyes ever since their conversation at the date grove. But now, she grabbed Eider’s arm. “What do we do if Nurse comes in and you’re not back yet?”

  “Nothing,” Eider whispered. “Do nothing. It’s not like he counts us—he just sticks his head inside.”

  “But what if Teacher opens the door? She’d notice you were gone for sure.”

  “I don’t know, make something up.”

  “Or what if—what if the danger really is real this time?”

  That made Eider pause. Teacher had never specified what kind of dangers they were hiding from, exactly. And Eider had never seen any sign of danger. No changes in the desert sameness.

  But then again…

  “It’ll be okay,” Eider said. “Just go!”

  Avis ran for the shelter.

  Eider ran in the opposite direction.

  With the alarm screaming in Eider’s ears, the cement slabs seemed farther than ever. It almost felt like she was in a real war, running for cover. Except cover was the other way.

  Somehow, she made it. She crouched beside one of the slabs, angling her head so it didn’t show over the top. She was glad for her dark hair. Avis’s rusty-red locks would have stood out like a bright bandana.

  When the alarm stopped, Eider counted to one hundred. Another fifty for good measure. Then, ever so carefully, she lifted her head and peered over the edge of the slab.

  Everything looked the same. The desert ranch, and the desert sameness that surrounded it. Then she spotted a bit of movement.

  Teacher, at the gate—unlocking the padlock.

  The van waited nearby, with Nurse in the driver’s seat. As Eider watched, he drove through the open gate. Teacher locked the gate and then climbed inside the van. It started moving again, its knobby tires crunching into the open desert.

  Eider watched the van grow smaller and smaller, until it dipped below the horizon and vanished. She rubbed her eyes, but the van was still gone.

  Teacher and Nurse were gone.

  Was this always what happened during drills? Eider wondered. Teacher and Nurse leaving the kids all alone? But why? Where was there to go?

  And how long would they be gone? Right now, that question was the most important. Even if drills usually lasted for hours, Eider couldn’t know for sure. She jumped to her feet and started sprinting for Teacher’s office.

  This would be a good time to run away.

  The thought made her stumble. Did she really want to run away, after what had happened last time? Was she brave enough? She had been, once. But now she knew so much more. It seemed like the older you got and the more you learned, the less brave you became.

  Either way, Eider refused to leave the other kids behind. Not until they’d all learned the truth about Teacher’s lies.

  As she hurried past, she couldn’t help glancing at the spike’s rusty sign:

  NO TRESPASSING

  KEEP OUT

  The door to the office was locked, of course. What about windows? Eider could use a rock to bash one open, but then the break-in would be obvious.

  She moved from window to window, each shrouded with curtains. One was open an inch but wouldn’t budge any higher. The next had an even smaller opening—but it was large enough to wedge her fingertips underneath. She yanked and it opened wider. Her searching fingers found a latch.

  The window opened all the way.

  Eider wasn’t the strongest kid at the desert ranch. But she was strong enough to hoist herself up and through the window.

&
nbsp; Biting her thumbnail, she looked around Teacher’s office.

  She saw folders and binders organized in perfect stacks. The breeze from a swamp cooler ruffled the papers. There was a table covered in strange machinery, including Finch’s broken radio. An uncomfortable-looking chair. Everything was coated in a thin layer of dust, since the desert always found its way inside.

  Then she saw the bookcase. On the top shelf sat the four World Books they hadn’t gotten to yet: So–Sz, T, U–V, WXYZ.

  And on the shelves below the World Books, more books. Dozens and dozens of books. Their books, just as Eider had expected. Her fingers grazed the spines she still recognized: Astronomy: A History, Animalia, The Red Badge of Courage, Ballet Shoes, Star Wars Treasury, The Way Things Work.

  Eider wanted to reread them all. This time, she’d memorize them, like her windborne papers. Back then, she hadn’t known what she’d soon be missing.

  Or what she’d always been missing, because of Teacher.

  The World Book contained many things, but it wasn’t everything. It was only information. No memories attached. No stories. No people! They’d already lost the whole world. Why had Teacher taken so much else away?

  Angry now, Eider grabbed the closest folder and flipped it open. Inside, there was a stack of pages. She recognized the old-timey letters on the top page:

  TELEVISION

  The pages were from the World Book. Teacher had taken them, too.

  With the evidence finally in front of her, Eider’s anger grew and grew. She wanted to steal the entire folder, but she knew Teacher might notice. So she drew three pages at random, folded them, and stuffed them in her overalls pocket.

  Then she opened one of the binders. She was greeted by Teacher’s all-caps handwriting. Paragraph after paragraph. Paper after paper. Binder after binder.

  Was this why Teacher had been so busy lately? Eider kept flipping pages, mesmerized. Sometimes the letters grew in size, darting across the paper like angry insects. They became sloppier, and harder to read. Certain phrases still jumped out at her, the way they had during the radio broadcast:

  HARNESSING POWERS