Girl in a Bad Place

by Kaitlin Ward

  “I’m fine.” I let her pull me to my feet, but very reluctantly. “I am just embarrassingly unprepared for all this hiking.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she says. “My feet hurt, too.”

  If only that made me feel better.

  “Come on.” She hooks an arm through mine. “I’ll walk with you. At whatever pace you need to go.”

  “Thank you.” I smile at her. This is the Cara I remember.

  Except, she’s also a Cara who has changed so, so much in the months since she told me she needed space. I realize with a little lurch in my gut that I’m not sure what to say to her anymore when we’re not mixed into a group of people. Or when I’m not trying to convince her to get out of here.

  “Hey, did you ever get the text I sent you last week?” I ask, trying my best to sound casual.

  “Oh, yeah, the one about the play? I meant to reply.” Cara smiles broadly. “I’m so proud of you! You’ve worked really hard; I’m so glad you’ll get to be the lead.” She pauses, biting her lip. “They announced stage manager this week, right? Who got it?”

  It’s my turn to hesitate. “Steve.”

  “That’s great. He deserves it.” She seems like she wants to say something else, so I wait. Stare at my toes as I step over rocks and roots crossing the path. “I, um … did Mr. Ingleton tell you I asked not to be considered?”

  I stop walking. “You … what?”

  “Yeah, I, um … ” She shoves her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “I mean, I’m part of the Haven now. And I worried that even though I’ve been kinda patchy with my attendance this fall, they might still assign me stage manager based on my history with drama club, you know? So yeah. I asked not to be considered.”

  That cuts deep. She openly told me she was planning to live here now, so what did I expect? But I hadn’t thought about it, not really. When will we hang out after this? I’m not quitting school, and I’m not quitting the play, so … where does that leave us? Is this trip, like, a good-bye for her? I’ve been so wrapped up in wondering what Firehorse is planning that I haven’t dealt at all with what Cara’s up to.

  “I’m sure Steve will do a great job,” I say, “but you would’ve done better.”

  “Of course I would have.” Her smile is genuine; she has no idea how sad I am. “But, I don’t know. It’s just not calling to me anymore. When I think about my future, I don’t feel like I want any part of the fakeness of that entire industry.”

  The fakeness of the entire industry? Awesome. That makes me feel great. “I don’t … I hope you don’t think I won’t want to be friends with you if that’s not your life goal anymore. There are lots of things you could do. You’re so smart and organized, you could do anything.”

  “Thank you for saying that.” She swipes a sweaty strand of blonde hair away from her face. “But the thing I want to do, you don’t seem exactly … one hundred percent supportive.”

  “You mean … this? The commune?”

  She nods.

  “I’m—it’s a lot to swallow. We’ve been best friends for ten years, and then you came here a couple times and didn’t need me anymore.”

  “It was more than a couple times,” she admits. “I came again and stayed for three days while you were at theater camp, and then … I went again the day my parents left for their trip, and then for a couple more days after I saw you that week.”

  “I see. And this fall, you’ve been … ”

  “I haven’t been living here this fall, technically. I’ve been spending weekends, and evenings when I can, and skipping school sometimes.”

  Skipping school more than just sometimes. “The school hasn’t contacted your parents? You’ve missed, like, a third of the days.”

  “Mom knows about pretty much all of those days. I told her about breaking up with Jackson, and, um … well, she noticed you hadn’t been around as much so I told her we were having trouble, and she thinks I’m having panic attacks over it all, so she’s been letting me stay home a lot.”

  “So you’re—” Nope. I can’t. I shut my mouth. I want to explode about how not-cool it is to pretend to have anxiety symptoms when you don’t, and how terrible of an idea it is to emotionally manipulate and lie to your mother, besides. But she is finally opening up to me, finally being honest. I need to let it happen without judgment. “So this is really what you want to be doing, and you have no reservations?”

  “It is really what I want to be doing.”

  “And no reservations?” I repeat.

  She hesitates. For a long time. “None.”

  For the first time in my life, I am so happy to hear Cara lie.

  The Cave is … a cave. It’s not at all what I was picturing. With the capital-C way Firehorse talks about it, I had envisioned some sort of glorious spectacle of nature, but it’s just a narrow hole nestled between some rocks. Tall enough I wouldn’t have to crouch, but not tall enough that Firehorse wouldn’t.

  The others don’t look too impressed, either, which makes me feel better about the letdown. I don’t want to be the only one with outrageous expectations. Brigit stands with a boy and a couple girls, and they all look majorly skeptical. Even Avalon doesn’t seem to have a whole lot of enthusiasm about it, and she’s enthusiastic about everything.

  Firehorse, however, is alive with excitement. He gathers us around the cave—which we are not to go inside of, by the way—and he makes a ridiculous, overwrought speech about how he was hiking around up here and discovered this cave and that’s what made him decide to buy the land and start the Haven here, as opposed to anywhere else in the world.

  I can practically feel the others thinking the same thing I’m thinking: Really? This cave, of all the caves in the world?

  But he’s so into it that it’s almost infectious. I’m, like, growing fond of the dumb cave because Firehorse is so overjoyously obsessed with it. This is Firehorse at full power. This exuberant, passionate human being is the one who recruited all these people, who caused others to feel as invested in his cult as he is. This isn’t the Firehorse I ever saw, and it makes me all the more certain that he never intended for me to be part of this. He almost sucked me in using only his manipulative little speeches. Imagine what would have happened if I’d gotten a show like this.

  Goose bumps pucker the flesh on my arms. Beside me, Cara’s holding hands with Finn, and it makes me feel very alone. I can’t concentrate on what Firehorse is saying; I can only concentrate on Cara.

  She looks happy. She’s so proud to be part of this. Does she look that happy when we hang out? Or am I an obligation, someone she wanted to see one last time before she cuts me out of her life completely?

  I quite literally don’t know what I’d do without Cara. If I never see her or talk to her again after this … I’ll be totally lost. And honestly, even if she decided it was time to leave right this second, from now until forever I’ll always know, for sure, that I need her more than she needs me. Because she could walk away from our friendship. She did. And I can’t. I’ll never be able to. It’s unthinkable.

  I blink back tears. I can’t let them fall right now, not while Firehorse is going on dramatically about the gloriousness of the Cave, and nature, and believing in each other. But Cara notices. Of course she does. And when Firehorse is done with his speech, and the group disperses to start setting up the tents, she asks me about it.

  “I’m fine,” I say, and I pull our tent out of its bag like that somehow proves my okayness.

  She doesn’t push it, and the tent is halfway put together before I break.

  “Am I going to see you again after this?” I ask.

  She glares at me around a pole. “What? Of course.”

  “When?”

  She’s silent.

  “You were fine with me joining the cul—the commune because you knew I’d never do it. Firehorse, too. You didn’t invite me to this because you thought I’d join, too, you just wanted to say good-bye. I’m right, aren’t I?”

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nbsp; Now her eyes are filled with tears. One drips down onto her cheek. “This was never about leaving you. That’s never what I wanted. You’ve been my best friend for a freaking decade. I didn’t forget about that. But joining the Haven means giving up some things. I’m living way out here. I know you won’t come visit. So as a byproduct … I don’t know. Maybe we’ll see each other again. I hope so. But I can’t count on it.”

  Her words stab me in the stomach. “I would come visit,” I say softly, “but would I be welcome?”

  She brushes away the falling tears. “I guess that depends how you act.”

  The tent’s together now. I throw my sleeping bag inside of it and walk away. I can’t do this. Can’t let her act like it’s on me whether or not our friendship survives her move to the Haven.

  “I think you should take the Book of Life Goals,” she says to my retreating back. I stop but don’t turn around. “It should be with you now.”

  I start walking again, away from Cara, away from this whole camp and the stupid cave, into the trees. I collapse at the base of one, curling my head pathetically against a big root, and I start to cry.

  Brigit finds me. She places a tentative hand on my arm.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, even though I am very obviously not okay.

  “I’m not going to see Cara again,” I say miserably. “She’s going to stay here, and I’m going to go home, and I’m not going to see her again.”

  I sit up, with my back against the tree. Brigit sits next to me and scratches shapes into the dirt. “I think … it’s important that you not give up on Cara right now. Or, more importantly, I guess, don’t let her give up on you.”

  “What do you mean?” I try to wipe my face, but I’m pretty sure all that happens is I smudge dirt all over myself.

  “What I mean is … ” Brigit’s eyes dart around, and she continues in a low voice. “I lost my best friend, too. It was here, at the Haven. There was an accident.”

  My blood chills. The word accident echoes in my head, and I think of the trapdoor in the root cellar. “I think Alexa told me about this. Sort of. Just about the, um, the accident. In the root cellar?”

  Brigit’s mouth twitches down. “Yes. We were all foraging in the woods, and Firehorse sent Opal back to get some tools he’d forgotten. When she hadn’t returned a couple hours later, I started to worry, but Firehorse brushed off my concern. Opal could be … she got lost in her own world a lot. She would get distracted by an insect or a rock formation and totally forget what she was supposed to be doing. But she was also worried that if she didn’t rein that in, she’d have to leave, so she’d been working really hard at adhering to the schedule, listening to instructions.”

  There’s a sound in the underbrush behind us and we both jump—but it’s only a chipmunk, darting between the trees.

  Brigit takes a shaky breath and goes on, her voice even softer than before. “When we all got back to the Haven a few hours later, she was nowhere to be found. Firehorse still thought everything was fine, but I was really worried by then, and Alexa convinced him that we should send a search party out into the woods. While the search party was away, I noticed that the door to the root cellar was wide open. Richelle found her inside, in the freezer. The trapdoor was all clawed up and she was … ” Brigit’s eyes well up and she takes another deep, shaky breath before she can go on. “She was dead. Nothing’s been the same for me here, not since then. I started to question things. Not out loud, because I—it was an accident, her death, I’m not saying it wasn’t. But the way the whole thing got framed, afterward, like it was her fault for going in the freezer alone, like we couldn’t have saved her if we came back when I first told Firehorse I was worried … ”

  “I’m so sorry.” I swallow a heavy lump in my throat. I can’t even begin to imagine how that must’ve felt. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just don’t give up on Cara,” she says weakly. “Lately, I’ve noticed a lot of things that don’t quite add up about our little commune. I’m worried about this harvest celebration, Mailee. I’m very, very worried.”

  “Me too,” I whisper, and squeeze her hand. I don’t know if it comforts her at all. It doesn’t comfort me. “And I won’t give up on her.”

  “There’s a reason Firehorse has been trying to keep the two of us apart,” Brigit says. “A reason I’ve only been alone with you in snatches, even though the fact that we’ve bonded should be a good thing. Normally, he’d be using me to pull you into the fold, you know? But he wants us apart. Which means I’m not doing such a good job anymore, hiding my concerns. So we both need to be very, very—”

  We both hear the sound of footsteps, drawing closer. Brigit throws her arms around me and starts stroking my hair, whispering soothing nothings, like this is what she’s been doing the whole time. For my part, I try to look like I’m still crying. Like I’m not terrified out of my mind.

  “It’s time to cook dinner,” Firehorse says, looming over us.

  Brigit lets go of me, and I try to look pathetic and sad as I get to my feet.

  “I’m very sorry if you and Cara had a fight, Mailee,” says Firehorse. “And I hope Brigit was able to provide some comfort. But work has to come before emotions, unfortunately.”

  “I understand,” I say shakily. “I’ll come help. It’s no problem.”

  Brigit and I exchange a glance as we follow him back to camp. The fear in her eyes is as plain as if she’d tattooed it across her face. My gut twists sickeningly.

  She and I, we are in serious, serious trouble.

  Cara doesn’t talk to me at all during dinner, and when I try to make eye contact as I head back to our tent, she aggressively avoids it. I feel … numb. Everything is such a mess that none of it is even getting to me anymore. I don’t even bother to look around the tent for spiders before I close my eyes and fall asleep.

  My dreams don’t provide me with the same sort of numbness, however. They’re twisted, disturbed. The kind of dreams you know are dreams, but you’re mired in, can’t escape from. I’m dreaming about Opal, even though I have no idea what she looks like. In my dream, she’s basically Cara, except I know that she’s not. She’s screaming and clawing and trying to escape. I’m trying to help her, but I can’t get my hands to close around the trapdoor’s latch. She goes silent, and then—

  “There are guns in his tent.”

  At first I think the words whispered into my ear are part of the dream, but then someone’s poking my arm and I realize Cara’s trying to wake me.

  “What?” I mumble groggily.

  “Guns, Mailee.”

  My brain’s working at, like, a quarter strength, so I have to run this sentence through it several times. “In whose tent, Firehorse’s?”

  Even with only the light from the nearly full moon, I can see her eyes roll. “What would I be doing in Firehorse’s tent this time of night? No, Finn’s.”

  I sit up slowly, holding my sleeping bag around me like a blanket. “What kind of guns?”

  “I didn’t get a great look, but big ones. And I don’t want to be, like, alarmist or anything, but they didn’t look like rifles. They looked … assaultier.”

  “Assaultier?”

  “Oh my God, Mailee, now is not the time to pick on my grammar.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. What’d you do when you saw them?”

  “I pretended not to. They were tucked along the edge of the tent and they were covered up by what I thought was a spare blanket. The edge of the blanket got pulled off a little bit. He put it back immediately and I just … I kept on kissing him like everything was the same, like I didn’t see. I stayed in there for, like, a half hour afterward so he wouldn’t be suspicious.”

  “Just kissing?”

  “Yes! Jeez.”

  “I know, sorry. I just … don’t know what to say.”

  “I think we should tell Firehorse, don’t you? He’d want to know that someone brought guns.”

  Ugh.

  “Cara. I
feel like … I don’t want you to get mad when I say this, but I’m pretty sure Firehorse already knows. They’re probably there at his instruction.”

  Cara buries her face in her hands. “I don’t think so, Mailee. I—there’s no way he knows about this. He’s a huge pacifist.”

  “Is he?” I whisper. If she gets mad, she gets mad. But this is my best and possibly only shot at showing her Firehorse’s true colors. “Does it make sense that Finn would have managed to sneak guns up here without anyone noticing? Firehorse notices everything.”

  “No way, Mailee. Just—no.” She’s trying to talk herself out if it, I can tell. “This is Finn. I should’ve known. I mean, you told me you got a weird vibe from him the very first time we came, and I ignored you because he was cute and I wanted someone to flirt with after Jackson.”

  I also told her I got a weird vibe from Firehorse, but she’s got no problem ignoring that.

  “Something’s not right in the Haven,” she whispers, voice laced with fear. “I’ve had this feeling about it for a couple weeks now. I think someone’s trying to sabotage this commune and before I wasn’t sure who it was, but now it’s clear that it’s Finn.”

  “I think we can say for sure that Finn is a creep,” I agree. “But please, Cara, please don’t say anything about this to Firehorse. Not until we figure it out more. I think he’s—” I cut myself short because I hear the soft shuffle of footsteps drawing nearer. My heart races.

  “Cara? Mailee?” It’s Firehorse’s voice outside our tent. “Is everything fine? Richelle told me she heard frantic whispering.”

  I unzip the tent partway. “Everything’s fine in here. I’m so sorry if we disturbed anyone. Just gossiping about, um, girl stuff.”

  “Ah, yes. Girl stuff.” Firehorse’s eyes flick toward Finn’s tent. So he knows where Cara came from. Was it Richelle who sent him this way, or was it actually Finn? “You’ll need to go to sleep now, okay? Cara’s got a big day tomorrow.”

  “We will, Firehorse, sorry.” Cara beams back at him. She is so taken in. What’s he going to have to do for her to realize he’s creepy? At this point, I feel like he could say it outright and she wouldn’t buy it.