by C. D. Bell
It wasn’t until the car ride back—Nessa, Luc, and Cynthia rode with Coach Hoffman again—that the understanding of what she’d just done started to sink in. Cynthia had also had a strong time, finishing in the top five for the state with a 16:37, and Luc had placed third among the boys.
“Nessa,” Cynthia said, shaking her head. It was like whatever resentment she’d had toward Nessa had been vaporized by the mushroom cloud of Nessa’s achievement. “That was—I saw you head out in front and I thought you were going to die, and then when I heard the roar—I was still in the woods—I put it together. Wow.”
“Good job,” Luc said, giving her a nod that was the first reaction Nessa didn’t find totally embarrassing.
“You too,” she said. He smiled—one of the first times she had seen him smile—like they were in on the same joke.
She didn’t exactly sleep in the car as much as she went into a deep trance, staring out into the woods. She kept feeling the footsteps, the way her mind had focused on each next step, the feeling that her chest was pushing her forward. The race had…hurt.
She was proud, too. She could feel herself smiling out the window, and she started to let her mind travel forward, thinking about how this might change things for her, wondering if she’d ever be able to do it again.
And then Nessa decided to stop thinking ahead. Coach Hoffman had told them there was going to be a welcoming celebration of all three of their amazing times back in the parking lot at Tether High. The school was setting up a sound system for music, and a few parents had volunteered to bring donuts and hot cider.
“It’ll be too cold to be out there for long—it’ll be dark—but for an hour or so I think we all could use some celebrating.”
Nessa nodded. She agreed.
But when they pulled into the lot, it didn’t look like a party. The two chartered buses were there, the banners had been hung, the tables groaned under huge platters of donuts, hot cider was set up in giant urns. But no music played on the huge speakers that were set up. Dave Uletsky, the sophomore star DJ, was standing away from the table, his arms crossed over his chest, talking quietly to Mr. Williams, the technology advisor. Kids were standing in clusters. Nessa could see that some were crying. Others had their arms around each other. Something was very wrong.
Spotting Coach Hoffman’s car, Bree fast-walked to meet them, and when Nessa rolled down her window, Bree leaned in. “Something terrible has happened,” she said, looking up at Coach to include him in the news. “It’s Billy Lark,” she went on. “He’s—.” Tears welled up in Bree’s eyes. “Nessa, I’m so sorry, but he’s dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“Billy Lark is dead?” Nessa cried. “It can’t be possible.”
She sprang from the car and grabbed Bree’s arm. Billy was just a little boy. Sure there had been horrible things that happened to the kids Nessa’s age who were most affected by the Dutch Chem mess. But Dutch Chem was gone. Tether was safe now. Wasn’t it?
“I know, it’s hard to believe,” Bree said, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands in a way that let Nessa know she’d been crying already. “But it’s true.”
Cynthia and Luc had gotten out of the car. Cynthia hurried off to meet her family. Luc waited, gave Nessa a long look, nodded and headed off on foot into the dark. Coach was hugging his wife next to her car on the other side of the lot.
Nessa was bewildered. And she had a terrible sinking feeling. Had the wolves been warning her?
“How did it happen?” Nessa asked, snapping back. “When?”
“This afternoon,” Bree replied. “He had some kind of seizure.”
“A seizure,” Nessa repeated. Did people die of seizures? She was thinking she understood what seizure meant. Until now it had not included death. Nessa felt tears coming, thinking of Billy’s eyes rolling back in his head, his mom holding him, calling his name. Billy was just so…little and helpless.
“No one really knows exactly what happened,” Bree continued, sniffing a bit. “He was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. His mom told them he’d never had anything like this happen before.”
Nessa looked around. Now the somber atmosphere in the parking lot made sense. Parents were here, picking up their kids. The Larks kept to themselves, and Billy was home-
schooled—but still, everyone had known who Billy was. Tether was too small a town not to have one family’s tragedy belong, in some way, to everyone.
“Do you think that it has anything to do with the study?” Nessa asked Bree in a low voice. “Did Mrs. Lark say anything about fevers?”
Bree shook her head no.
“Is my mom here?” Nessa asked. “Have you seen her? Does Nate know?”
“Yeah,” Bree said. “She’s with Nate, on the other side of the buses.”
Nessa understood that Nate could not handle the crowd that was gathering in the parking lot, especially not with the level of emotion being expressed. Hugging made Nate’s skin crawl. “She said she would wait for you there.”
“Bree, something is not right,” Nessa said, this time with urgency. Bree stared at the pavement and then looked up, her eyes filled with tears.
“I know.”
Nessa headed past the buses where her mom was waiting with open arms. But even her mother’s hug did not comfort Nessa. “It’s so awful, Mom,” was all she could say. “Billy was so little.”
“I know,” said Vivian, smelling the way she always did, like the disinfectant she used to wipe down the exam room between consultations at Dr. Morgan’s, and lavender soap and coffee. “I know.”
When Nessa pulled away from her mom, Vivian rubbed a hand over her own eyes like she was trying to prevent a headache that was coming on. “He was the same age as Nate,” she said. Vivian reached into her purse for her car keys. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll drop you off at home. I want to bring a hot dish over to the Larks.” Vivian turned to Nessa and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You were amazing today.”
Nessa nodded dumbly, said goodbye to Bree, and followed her mom. Of course this was what her mother was going to do. In Tether, when someone died, the town rallied around the family. Half of the town showed up with a meal, which they would heat up in your kitchen, serve, and clean up after. They would send their husbands or sons or daughters outside to shovel your driveway, mow your lawn, and walk your dog. People would come out to help even those families who kept mostly to themselves, like the Larks. It didn’t matter.
While Nessa showered, she knew that in the kitchen her mom would be making tuna noodle casserole: boiling the pasta, opening the cans, mixing up the tuna and onion, shaking out the buttered breadcrumbs on the top.
Moments from the race kept flashing through her mind, getting mixed up with thoughts of Billy. She thought about the aggressive wolves, imagining them in the woods she’d been running through, imagining them in the fields by Billy’s house.
Nessa got dressed in jeans and a clean fleece sweatshirt. The smell of tuna noodle casserole was reminding her that she’d barely eaten all day. She knew Vivian wouldn’t expect any of her children to come to the Larks—she would have made two casseroles so she could leave one at home. Nevertheless, Nessa blow-dried her hair, pulled it back into a ponytail, and joined her mom in the kitchen, where she announced, “I want to go with you. I want to pay my respects to the Larks.”
On the way over in the car, Nessa said what she knew her mother had to be thinking.
“Mom, remember what I told you about that day at the clinic? How Mrs. Lark had become suspicious that something about the study was making Billy sick?” Nessa said.
Vivian was silent. She turned down the Larks’ road, but their driveway was full. She and Nessa had to park more than a hundred yards away.
“Then she made a fuss at the front desk and barged into the examining room, and then, after five years, we find that they were restraining the kids? Billy was getting fevers after each visit. And he didn’t look well. Anybody could see that.”
Nessa took a deep breath. “Do you think the study has something to do with Billy’s death?”
Vivian shut off the ignition and turned to Nessa. “I don’t know if the health study had anything to do with it, but I promise that I am going to try to find out.”
They got out of the car and walked to the Larks’ front door in silence. She could tell the conversation was over. Nessa carried the casserole dish, keeping a few steps behind her mom. It was intimidating, heading toward the house. They could hear Mrs. Lark wailing from all the way down the front walk. Nessa imagined her in the living room, surrounded by women, sitting on the sofa.
But when Nessa and her mother entered, the living room looked untouched. Men and kids were standing around. There was a green corduroy couch and a recliner, but no one was sitting on either. A few of the men were holding beers. All the women were in the kitchen, which is where Nessa and Vivian headed.
Mavis Cartwright seemed to be in charge. She was generally in charge wherever she was. She ran a daycare where Ann Lark used to work as an aide, Billy coming along with her. There were about six women bustling around, an urn of coffee sending off steam from the counter, platters of cut-up vegetables on the table, and a few plates of cookies and brownies covered tightly in plastic wrap.
“Over there, dear,” Mrs. Cartwright said, indicating that Nessa should put the casserole dish on top of the stove.
“Where are the Larks?” Nessa asked quietly, looking around because she hadn’t seen them.
Mrs. Cartwright shook her head. “They’re in Billy’s room, with him still.” She turned to Vivian. “Ann wouldn’t let them take him to the mortuary. She wants an autopsy. She’s called up Dane Sampson from hospice who is arranging to have them pick up the body. The clinic here would do some of that for free, but she would have none of it.”
“So Mrs. Lark thinks Billy’s death had something to do with the clinic study?” Nessa asked. She tried to make eye contact with her mom, but Vivian looked away.
Mrs. Cartwright looked back at Nessa in shock. The idea that the clinic study was not 100 percent hunky dory had never entered her mind.
“Ann Lark is not right in the head at the moment. And no one can blame her,” she said tersely.
Case closed.
They all turned when they heard another wail coming from Billy’s bedroom. It was so loud and strangled it didn’t sound human. Did they put Billy in his bed? Nessa wondered. What’ll happen when the hospice workers come?
The women had put some of the casseroles out on the table, and people were starting to fill plates. Someone brought a plate to Billy’s room down the hall. Nessa watched the door open as one of Mrs. Lark’s sisters stepped inside, and she remembered herself as a wolf watching Mrs. Lark herself standing in that doorway, the moment when they made eye contact and Mrs. Lark screamed.
Nessa was starving, so she took a plate of food. Some kids from school were there, and they’d taken over the den where the TV was off out of respect, but still, there was laughing and joking. She saw other people from town—Gina, the receptionist from the clinic was there with Dr. Raab’s nurse, Mary. It was nice of them to come, but they looked awkward and weren’t mingling with the others, even though they were Tether natives. Nessa wondered if they felt guilty. She ate her plate of food by herself in the hallway, which was filled with framed pictures of Billy as a baby, Billy holding a piece of driftwood on the shore of Lake Michigan, Billy on a swing, Billy silhouetted against a tall field of wheat with the sun almost setting behind him.
Looking at the pictures, she felt her throat closing up, and she could no longer even taste the food.
Chayton had told her the wolves had turned her into one of them for a reason. He’d told her to try to figure it out. And then the wolves had taken her here.
Something in Nessa’s gut told her: it wasn’t over yet. She could unravel this, she could piece together why the wolves knew so early that Billy was in trouble and why they wanted her to know as well. She had to decode the message, and she had to do it soon. Ann Lark was no fool. Nessa could not think of another mother she knew who was more attached to her kid.
She left the hall, looking for a place to throw away the food she was unable to finish. She passed the front door just as it opened, with Cassian, Sierra, and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas on the other side, entering the Lark’s home.
“Nessa!” Cassian whispered, clearly happy to see her. His eyes lit up. He stepped forward to let his parents pass.
Cassian’s dad leaned in and said, “Great race today,” in a kind, but low, voice. Sierra just stared at her. Cassian’s mom gave Nessa a sad half-smile as she carried a basket of buttered rolls into the kitchen.
“Hey state champion,” Cassian said, softly, like he meant the words to be just for her. He leaned forward and kissed her on her forehead.
Nessa tried to smile. Cassian had been kind to Billy, the way he was kind to everyone. He had played soccer with him and Nate in the waiting room. Cassian treated both boys like they were star campers and he was the counselor everyone wanted attention from.
“It’s so awful,” she said, her eyes filling with tears.
Cassian looked her straight in the eye. “I know. I feel sick about it. Honestly,” he said. “I mean, when was the last time we saw him at the clinic? Two weeks ago? It all feels unreal.”
“Exactly,” said Nessa. “Can you imagine how his mom feels right now?”
“I know,” Cassian said. “He was their only child.”
It wasn’t lost on Nessa that after several years, most parents had assigned the chore of clinic to an older child like Nessa or Cassian, or a babysitter. At the least, they carpooled. But not Mrs. Lark.
“She’s in Billy’s bedroom,” Nessa said. “Her close friends let the minister in, but she won’t talk to him. They haven’t even taken away the body.”
“Creepy,” Cassian said. “They just put out some seven-layer bars. Let’s get some and go outside?”
“Okay,” Nessa agreed. She certainly didn’t want to stay inside anymore, looking at pictures of towheaded adorable Billy and realizing they were all that was left of his story.
Outside, Cassian’s energy was all sunlight, no sadness, as he cheered her again for her victory. They moved around to the side of the house.
“Nessa, you must be reevaluating the entire story of your life right now,” he said. “I mean, you’re going to get recruited. Somewhere amazing. Have you thought about that?”
“Honestly, not yet. I don’t really want to right now,” Nessa said.
“Don’t let what happened to you today get swept under the rug,” Cassian urged. “Do you know why my dad came back here after college? His dad got sick. He had little brothers. No one else was around to join the law firm—no one was old enough. And my grandma told my dad it wasn’t a bad life. They had the lake house, the pool; it’s a good place to raise kids. But you know what?”
Nessa didn’t know what. She’d never thought about Cassian’s dad one way or another. He was a lawyer and did whatever it was lawyers did. She’d always assumed he’d gone to college and law school and come back because he wanted to, because back then in the 1990s, Dutch Chem and Tether were still going strong.
“He’s fine. He’s happy and all. But he told me that if I even think about coming back here after college, I’m going to find a locked front door. He says he won’t keep me on his health plan, and he’ll refuse to pay for my car insurance.”
Nessa smiled wistfully. Cassian’s family might not be rich, but the things he described were luxuries to her.
“My dad’s not kidding,” Cassian said. “Even now, with work picking up, he’d move everyone to Arizona given half a chance.”
“Arizona!” Nessa said. “You mean sand and cacti and deserts?”
“You bet. My mom’s sick of the mold in the basement. She wants a new house with tile floors and ceiling fans. My dad could play golf year-round. Sierra would finish school where kids are cheerful and feel like they have
a future. People are just happier out there.”
Cassian put a hand on her arm, let his hand wrap around to her back. “My dad loves what’s happening to you, Nessa,” he said. “He talked about it the whole way here.”
Nessa thought, I doubt your dad would be happy with everything that’s happening to me.
“You’ve got to keep looking ahead,” Cassian went on. “The way you do when you run a race, right? You don’t worry about the people you’re leaving behind, do you?”
Nessa looked at Cassian, his sunny face, and wondered what he really meant. His hand on her back gave her a shiver.
“What were you thinking when you ran?” Cassian asked, drawing her closer. “What’s it like to know everyone on that line’s gonna try their best, and you’re going to absolutely slay them anyway?”
“I don’t think about it like that. It feels…” Nessa trailed. It was getting hard for her to concentrate with Cassian’s face so close to hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek as he leaned back against the siding of the house and pulled her toward him. “It feels,” Nessa started again, “like I never know if I’m going too fast, or not fast enough. In this race today, half the time I felt like I must have taken a wrong turn or something. I couldn’t think of any other way to explain being so far out in front.”
“You’re amazing,” Cassian said, brushing his lips on her cheek. “You don’t even have any idea of how beautiful and fierce you are.”
When he kissed her, Nessa felt the same way she’d felt when he’d kissed her before, like something inside her had just caught fire. He smelled amazing, like aftershave mixed with wood smoke, and the way he held her made her feel like they were figure skaters and he could make her spin into a triple jump just with a flick of his self-assured wrist.
But then she reached a hand behind her and touched the aluminum siding of the house, cool and gritty with a film of dirt blown off the cultivated fields. The grit was distracting, and the cold was like a conduit, channeling her attention around to the other side of the house, the side where she had made eye contact with Mrs. Lark through Billy’s window.