by Laura Burns
They had a coffee place on campus too?
“How do you pay, though? It’s not like you show up here with wads of cash that will last until graduation.” Or did they? “And I doubt the gardener takes AmEx.”
“You know how we get packages from our parents?” Izzy said. “There’s always stuff we don’t want. Some of it’s stuff the various sources do. Or if not, it’s stuff they can sell.”
Jesus, what exactly were parents sending?
“My mom sent a Coach bag I wouldn’t be caught dead carrying. She thinks we like exactly the same things,” Karina told her, as if she’d heard Sarah’s silent question. “That’s kept me in treats for months.”
“Tif takes a little cut for delivering everything and collecting payment. It’s not like everyone at school can keep showing up at the gardener’s shed. It’s a nice deal for her. Her care packages wouldn’t get her far. But hey, there’s still barter for people without sufficient funds. Writing essays works. People here are smart, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t lazy. And BJs work for everything.”
Sarah caught Karina shooting Izzy a sharp look, as if trying to remind her that their new roommate was someone who’d have to pay with her mouth if she wanted anything from the outside. “Here’s the overlook I wanted to show you,” she said to Sarah, veering off the path. “Watch the edge. No lights out here.”
Sarah and Izzy followed Karina out near the edge of a cliff. The moonlight shone down on the water, creating a streak of silver, and across the jagged rocks where the waves broke into explosions of white spray.
“It’s so beautiful, but sometimes I can’t look at it for long,” Karina said, her voice low and serious. “Sometimes when I stand here I get this crazy impulse to jump.” Izzy instantly placed her hand on Karina’s arm. Karina laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s not like I’m going to. But you know how sometimes you get a crazy thought, like what would happen if you put your hand in the garbage disposal? And then you can’t stop thinking about it. And it’s like a part of you is attracted to the idea.”
Sarah backed up a step, her gaze now drawn more to the sharp, deadly rocks. A low moan filled the air, and she jerked her head toward Izzy, sure she was messing with them. But then she heard the sound again, and it definitely didn’t come from Izzy.
“Did you hear that?” Sarah whispered, trying not to sound terrified.
“It’s the ghost,” Karina said, still staring down. “One of the POW prisoners escaped from his cell. He managed to get topside. When the guards came after him, he kept running. He had to know he was going to die, but he just kept running. He landed right down there. It’s his spirit you hear. That’s why it’s called Suicide Cliff, because of him. I hear his ghost all the time.”
“Well, that’s what some people think the sound is anyway,” Izzy said, rolling her eyes, and Sarah let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. Izzy didn’t believe in the ghost story, and that made Sarah feel better, even though she didn’t believe in ghosts, period. She used to when she was little, because she wanted her ghost parents to come visit her. But they never did.
They stared down at the rocks for another moment, then Izzy added, “Some people say it was one of the patients from the insane asylum on the other side of the island who escaped and killed herself here.” Sarah’s breath caught in her chest again.
“There’s an insane asylum on the other side of the island?” Sarah’s voice came out in a squeak.
“Oh, not anymore,” Izzy replied. “It was built back in the 1910s, for the mentally disturbed rich. Or just annoying family members the robber barons didn’t want to deal with. The buildings are still over there, but they’re falling down.” So that’s what Sarah had seen from the boat. The welcoming committee clearly hadn’t wanted to tell her anything that would make the school sound less than perfect. “It was closed up back in the early thirties,” Izzy continued. “They did horrible things to the patients. Starvation treatments. Days in tubs full of ice. Months strapped to beds. Forced sterilization. I know I’d rather take the dive onto the rocks than live through that.”
The moan came again, low and plaintive. The back of Sarah’s neck prickled as the small hairs there rose in response.
“It sounds like a woman to me,” Izzy said. “Her spirit may have been trapped here for all these years.”
“Or the sound could be made by the wind blowing through the caves.” The voice came from right behind Sarah and she jumped. She looked back and saw Ethan. He put his hand on her shoulder. His thumb brushed against the side of her neck, and a jolt of hot electricity shot from her heart to low in her belly. “Easy, new girl. This place is so boring people have to make up stories to keep themselves entertained.”
He pulled his hand away, and Sarah involuntarily moved her own hand over the warm spot it had left.
“But I can think of better ways to amuse myself, can’t you, Karina?” He grabbed her by the hand and jerked her tight up against him. She giggled.
Izzy gave an exaggerated sigh. “So much for girls’ night.”
“Do you mind?” Karina asked Sarah.
“Go,” Sarah told her. “You’ve spent half the day babysitting me.”
“It’s not like that,” Karina protested.
“Go,” Izzy said. “It’ll save me from Safe Haven. And you’ll only sit around the room texting him all night if you don’t.”
Ethan backed toward the path, without releasing Karina.
“No worries,” Izzy told Sarah. “I’m between boys at the moment, and there are a variety I haven’t tried yet. When you’re in the mood, we can go shopping together.”
3
Sarah stared up at the bedroom ceiling, the only sounds Izzy’s steady breathing and the soft hum of the ocean. She lightly smoothed one finger over the inside of her right elbow. Ages ago, she’d trained herself not to fall asleep in a new place. When she was little and she started to doze off, she’d pinch her arm, right on the tenderest stretch of skin.
It wasn’t like being awake protected her from anything. But somehow it was worse waking up to beer breath in her face, a hand sliding under the covers. When she knew it was coming, she could pull herself far away, deep inside herself. And when she was older, bigger, when she knew it was coming, she could grab whatever weapon she’d managed to find—kitchen knife, rock, anything.
Most places her vigilance turned out to be unnecessary. A foster dad came after her a couple of times when she was seven, and another place a foster kid had tried some stuff when she was eleven. But her perfect memory could replay each episode so well that it was hard to shake the fear. And after what had happened to her parents, it wasn’t as if she had started out fear-free.
So every time she moved to a new place she never really slept for at least the first few nights, until she figured out if she was in danger or not. Or until she was so exhausted that the pinching, or, later, the massive amounts of caffeine, wouldn’t work anymore.
She knew she was safe here. Only she, Karina, and Izzy could get past the fingerprint scanner on the door to the suite. She didn’t know her roommates well enough to truly trust them, but she did trust that they wouldn’t try to hurt her while she slept.
Except she couldn’t sleep. She’d trained herself too well. Maybe she should go out into the living room and watch TV or something. She could do that here—there were no rules. She didn’t have to worry that she’d get thrown out of the place if she bothered someone.
Or she could take a bath in the deep claw-foot tub. The bathroom was on the other side of the living room. The sound of the water running wouldn’t wake Izzy up.
Or she could get her laptop—her laptop!—and read the English notes Maya had zapped her.
Or … she could just go to sleep. She felt the ache of fatigue in her burning eyes and heavy limbs. She’d hardly slept last night. She’d felt secure at the Yoders’, but knowing she’d be leaving for the school the next morning had kept her mind racing. Then there’d bee
n the hours on the plane, bus, ferry, and boat.
Sarah rolled onto her back and pulled the covers up a little higher, grateful to have heavy blankets to protect her from the cold spot that came from deep under the school. Where the POW camp had kept the prisoners. Like the prisoner who had hurled himself over—
Stop it. Going over the stupid ghost stories Karina and Izzy had told her was not going to help her drift off. She closed her eyes and concentrated on her breathing. In, out. In, out. The smell of cedar mixed with something spicy—cloves, maybe—filled her nose. It was a good smell. In, out, in, out.
Weird. That wasn’t how the suite had smelled when she first came in. She remembered noticing the scent of lavender and vanilla. Must be plug-in air fresheners, with a different fragrance in the living room and this one. Although she hadn’t noticed a difference in the rooms’ odors earlier.
No thinking, she reminded herself. I’m just supposed to be breathing. In, out. In, out. Each breath brought her deeper into that spicy scent. Cedar and—
And she was in.
In the grayness, following Daddy’s rules. Being quiet. Being still. Hiding. Waiting until he or Mommy opened the tunnel door. Smelling the musty tunnel, the spicy scent of Daddy’s cologne fading.
She was trying not to think of monsters crawling toward her. Daddy said there were no monsters. But monsters liked tunnels. They liked little girls.
Thinking about the rules helped. She needed to keep remembering the rules. If something bad happens, wait until it’s safe. Then run. Run fast. Find a lady with kids. Tell her your name is Sarah Merson. Merson. Merson, Merson, Merson. Ask for help.
Her nose twitching, itching from the thick air. Making her want to sneeze. But she had to be quiet.
Then Mommy screaming. Were the monsters out there and not in the tunnel?
She had to move. On hands and knees, creeping toward the slits of light, heart pounding.
Seeing her. Mommy on her knees facing the hotel room wall.
Someone’s legs. A hand reaching down. A silver bird staring at her from the ring on the finger. Staring with a horrible little black eye. The finger pulling the trigger of a gun.
A bang. Her ears filling with bees. Mommy collapsing on the floor. Red spilling.
Sarah shoving her fingers into her mouth. Quiet. Being quiet.
Daddy’s legs running by. The bird man chasing.
Something bad happening. Feeling a hand on her shoulder.
And she was out. Sarah jerked up off the bed, searching wildly for anything she could use to attack.
“Sarah, Sarah, it’s okay. It’s me. Karina.”
There was a delay between hearing the soft words and comprehending them. “Right, okay,” Sarah answered, keeping her voice low the way Karina had. She twisted her head to the side, trying to wipe her face on the shoulder of the oversized tee she slept in.
Had she been crying for real? Or just in the memory surge?
“Come on. Let’s go out to the living room for a minute. Izzy’s asleep,” Karina whispered.
Sarah glanced at Izzy’s bed. Karina was right. Izzy lay on her stomach, one arm thrown out. It was hard to imagine someone sleeping so peacefully right next to the hell Sarah had been going through.
She slid out of bed, her heart still pounding like it was going to rip free from her chest.
“That must have been some nightmare,” Karina said after she shut the door behind them. She switched on a floor lamp, leaving the living room dim.
Sarah sank down on the sofa. She didn’t think her legs would carry her any farther. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Karina. First a surge in front of the dean, and now this. She’d known this girl for less than twenty-four hours, and already she’d ruined things with this psychotic meltdown.
“I’m fine,” Sarah said. “You can go back to bed.”
Karina sat down beside her. “I wasn’t in bed yet.” She was still wearing the clothes she’d had on at dinner. Pay attention. Focus. Be normal. “I just got back from hanging with Ethan,” Karina continued. “You were kind of … thrashing around. I didn’t know if I should wake you up, but it looked so horrible. And then I realized your eyes were open. I thought for a second you’d woken yourself up, but you were still dreaming, almost like in a trance. You looked like you were…” Her voice trailed off. “Like you were fighting with something,” she added after a moment.
“Sorry,” Sarah told her.
“Don’t be stupid,” Karina said gently. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You know what we should do? We should watch cartoons. When I have a nightmare I hate to go back to sleep right away. I need to get something happy in my head first.” She used her cell to click on the TV. “The school has an insane library of stuff we can stream. Music too.” She hit another couple of buttons and started to scroll through a list. “Oooh! Maggie and the Ferocious Beast! I haven’t seen that show in forever, since kindergarten probably. Did you watch it when you were little?”
Sarah felt a small smile tug at her lips. “Great googly moogly.” She’d actually watched that show in the Before. Before she was a foster kid. Before her parents died. Back when things were good.
“We have to watch one. Izzy would have a fit.” Karina broke into a wide smile. “But Izzy is asleep.” A few seconds later, the theme song to the cartoon started to play. Sarah could have sung along. She remembered every word, along with the words to every other song she’d ever heard. But she thought she’d remember the Maggie song even if she had a normal brain. It had come on at lunchtime, and she and her mom had always watched it while they ate.
“I remember this one! Can you believe it? It’s the one where—”
“The Jelly Bean Team gets their own train,” Sarah finished for her.
“Yes!” Karina clapped her hands. “The Jelly Bean Express!” She grabbed one of the pillows off the sofa and held it cuddled against her, and for that second it was easy to picture her as a little girl with her favorite stuffed animal.
Sarah and Karina watched for a few minutes in silence. Then, eyes still on the TV, Sarah spoke without thinking for once. “It wasn’t actually a nightmare,” she confessed.
“What?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Karina turn toward her. But she couldn’t bring herself to look back. Eyes on the three-horned polka-dotted cartoon beast, she went on, “It was a memory. Of when my parents died. They were both killed on the same day, when I was really little.”
Karina let out a gasp.
Stop talking. You don’t talk about your parents getting murdered so soon after meeting someone. But something about Karina felt so comforting, so accepting … But that didn’t mean she wanted to know all the horrific details of Sarah’s life.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Karina said softly. “What made you think of that?”
The air freshener smelled like my dad’s cologne, Sarah imagined herself saying. It triggered a memory surge that put me right back into that hotel room watching them die.
But she couldn’t. The surges—they were too strange. It was bad enough she’d just spewed the news about her dead parents. “I’m not sure,” she said finally. “Maybe just the stress of being in a new place. It doesn’t matter anyway. It was a long time ago.” She shrugged. “Listen, I’m fine now. You can go to bed. I’ll just watch a little more Maggie.”
“You are not fine,” Karina protested. “If my parents—” Her cell buzzed, and she pulled it out to look at it. “Oh.”
“What?” Sarah asked.
“Um…”
“Karina?” Izzy emerged from the bedroom, yawning. “Let’s go.” She waved her cell in the air.
Karina shot a glance at Sarah. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “I hate to leave you when you’re so upset.”
“Leave me?” Sarah repeated, baffled.
“Yeah. I—I mean we—have to go.” Karina stood up. Izzy, still in her pajamas, was already at the door. “I’m really sorry.”
“Where are
you guys going in the middle of the night?” Sarah asked.
“Watch another Maggie, it’ll make you happy before you go back to bed,” Karina said, forcing a smile.
Izzy gave Sarah a little wave, and then they were gone, leaving Sarah alone.
She stared at the door for a long moment, trying to process what had just happened. Where were they going? Why hadn’t they invited her?
Because they’ve known me less than a day, she thought. I can’t expect them to include me in everything just because I was assigned to their room.
Still, she felt lonely and embarrassed. Why had she told Karina about her parents? They were probably talking about how weird she was on their way to … wherever they were going.
Sarah clicked off the TV and wandered slowly into the bedroom. She put her cell on the little bedside table—black with an intricate pattern of leaves, flowers, and diamonds in white. Her roommates took this kind of stuff for granted, and she was almost afraid to even touch any of it.
“I’ve got to sleep,” she said to the empty room. She’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours, and her mind felt foggy. “Maybe that’s why I had the bad surge.”
The room still smelled like cedar and cloves. Sarah didn’t want the scent to hurl her back into the night of her parents’ murders again. She hurried to the window and opened it, letting the smell of the ocean in. She leaned on the windowsill for a moment, the fresh air filling her nostrils. The view was incredible, over the lawn stretching out to the edge of cliffs and a glimpse of the ocean beyond. So far, the ocean was her favorite thing about this whole place. She loved the sound, the constant gentle shushing.
As she turned away, she thought she heard a new sound mixed with the whispering of the waves. She jerked back around, holding her breath.
Yes. There it came again. A keening cry, soft, but definite. Sarah leaned out the window and craned her neck so that she could see the spot Karina and Izzy had shown her earlier. Suicide Cliff. She pictured a woman in a long white nightgown running toward the edge, her arms bound across her body by a straitjacket. She wouldn’t even be able to throw out her arms as she plummeted, not that anything would prevent her from being killed when she hit the rocks.