First Girl

by Julie Aitcheson

  From the looks of it, a handful of the boys had suffered the same fate. They were meant to be examples for the rest, conspicuous with their shameful stigmata. Bradley Fiske, uncharacteristically clean from his purification shower, bore no marks or bandages and eyed her wounds with unsuppressed glee as she searched the room for her team. Noel was scrunched against the wall, arms wrapped around his legs as the rest of his team chattered happily around him. His bandages peeked out from the too-long sleeves of his flannel shirt. What had he confessed? Bullying? Driving without permission? When Gabi searched Noel’s face, gray under its ruddy tint, he looked away.

  Zach led Gabi over to where Peter and Jordan stood in conversation by the fireplace, giving Peter a one-armed hug as they approached. “Catch her up on the doings, my brother,” Zach said. “Break’s over in ten, then we’re going to be heading outside.”

  Peter’s chest puffed out as he watched Zach’s retreat with hero worship glimmering in his eyes. Peter’s twitching hands were unmarked, and Jordan’s, which were large and covered in old scars of nearly every shape and size, were wound-free as well.

  “So,” Gabi said with forced enthusiasm, “what have you all been up to out here?”

  “They asked us to gather in our teams and make a list of obstacles or weaknesses that might still be standing in the way of receiving our calling,” Peter informed her. “They gave us a list of categories, and we’re supposed to pick from that.” He gestured toward an old chalkboard affixed to the wall, darkened by the shadow of the shaggy moose head. On the board’s milky green surface, the five obstacles were listed as Weak Faith, Insecurity, Lack of Will, Fear of Losing Control, and Selfishness. “I picked Fear of Losing Control,” Peter said, “and Blubbo here picked Selfishness. Would have pegged him as more of a ‘Lack of Will’ type myself, but what do I know?”

  “Funny,” Gabi retorted. “I would have pegged you as more of an Insecurity type myself.”

  “Yeah, well… whatever. I’m going to hit the head before break’s over.” Peter shoved his hands into his pockets and picked his way through the clumps of teens toward the bathroom. As Gabi watched him go, Jordan nudged her arm, offering her two soft ham-and-cheese buns in one big paw.

  “Take them. They’re safe,” he whispered. “Quick.” Despite her earlier bout of sickness, the scent of the rolls brought Gabi’s appetite surging back to life, and she eagerly swiped them from his hand.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, “I’ll save one for Marn—uh, Marian.” Gabi looked toward the hallway leading to the dorm. Marnie was nowhere in sight. Why was it taking so long?

  “I got some for her too. Those are for you,” Jordan said.

  Turning her back more fully to the room, Gabi tore off small pieces of bun and poked them between her lips, hoping her stomach would accept the offering.

  “What did you mean ‘they’re safe’?” Gabi asked as she savored the tang of real cheddar.

  “Oh. Nothing.” Jordan’s color deepened. “I only meant… I meant I won’t tell that I saved you some food.”

  “Well, I should think not. The counselors would ask me where I got it, and then you’d be in trouble too. But that’s not what you meant.” Jordan shifted inside his clothes. “It’s okay,” Gabi said softly. “You can trust me.”

  “I can’t. It’s not just me who would get in trouble if you told.”

  “Jordan, look at me,” Gabi insisted, raising her wounded hands in front of his face. “I wouldn’t have these if I was someone who tells, now would I?”

  Jordan’s eyes darted over her shoulder. Peter emerged from the bathroom, stopping to chat with Zach on his way toward them.

  “Okay, but if you say anything, I’ll have to tell Ruth you snuck out last night. Any chance you might still have of getting on a Witness team will be gone.”

  Gabi choked on the wad of dough in her mouth. “How did you know I’m trying to make a Witness team?”

  “I know that look. I saw it on my sister’s face before she got recruited. You watch everything, like I do. I can tell you’re not all-in with this whole camp thing, but you’re pushing yourself through it anyway. You must want it pretty bad.”

  “Well, I think I ruined my chances this morning anyway,” Gabi said, “but the last thing I want is to give Ruth any more reasons to come after me. I won’t tell, I promise.”

  Jordan spared Peter another glance, then took a tentative step toward her. “My sister told me that they put some kind of muscle relaxer in the food here to keep everyone mellow so we can get into the spirit of things. It’s supposed to lower our resistance to letting go. She said lots of fellows know about it, but they don’t make an issue because it seems to work. It’s not in all the food. If you only eat what the counselors eat, you can keep a clear head. If you want to, that is.”

  The muddled feeling Gabi had been plagued by the night before suddenly made sense. She did want to get her calling tomorrow, if only to redeem herself in the eyes of the recruiters, but that cloak of smog in her brain reminded her too much of her medication. Her sharp senses were the only advantage she had in Ruth’s world. But why was Jordan so determined to avoid the drugged food? It was delicious and relatively harmless, if you didn’t mind the fuzzy edges.

  “Are you trying to get recruited too?” Gabi asked, leaning close to stay out of Peter’s earshot as the boy approached.

  Jordan nodded. “If I get recruited, I’ll be fed during missions, and my parents will get my rations while I’m gone, as well as my sister’s. They won’t have any other children to worry about, and they’ll get well again. I’d avoid the tainted food too, if I were you. That Bradley kid looks at you like he wants to shoot you, stuff you, and mount you on the wall. What did you do to him?”

  “She bashed his face in,” a gritty voice drawled from behind them. “It was the biggest story in school for weeks. Fucking awesome.” Marnie was back in her loose, grungy clothing and looking not too much the worse for wear. The back of each hand was adorned with two red bandages each, crossed in an X. What Gabi first mistook as a rash of acne just below Marnie’s hairline was actually a series of nicks carved in a band from one temple to the other.

  “Who bashed whose face in?” Peter asked as he joined them.

  “Gabi Lowell, that’s who,” Marnie crowed, hooking a heavy arm around Gabi’s neck. “Girl’s got some balls.”

  “MY CROWN of thorns,” Marnie said through a mouthful of smoke when she noticed Gabi staring at her forehead. They were back under their copse of trees by the old tent platform, waiting to be given instructions for the day’s challenge. Today was all about removing the final obstacles to being called. Marnie had chosen Insecurity as a joke, and Gabi picked Weak Faith, hoping to gain points for honesty. Jordan was suffering the enthusiastic attentions of Ginny, who touched the blushing boy at every opportunity. Gabi was dying to know what the fawning redhead was saying and find out why he had picked Selfishness as his primary obstacle, when from what she knew of him he was anything but. Peter had positioned himself some distance from Gabi and Marnie, claiming he didn’t want to risk getting the smoke smell in his clothes. The girls knew he really just wanted to stay in plain view of Zach. The day was clear and relatively warm, and Peter was working up a sweat doing a dramatic series of kicks and punches to show off for his idol.

  “They cut your face?” Gabi asked, inspecting the red marks more closely.

  “Oh, you should have seen the look on Ruth’s face when she did it,” Marnie scoffed. “Like God himself was patting her on the back. I think it was the peak of her pathetic counseling career.” Marnie shook her head and tossed the filter of her spent cigarette under her shoe. “Whatever. If Ruth thinks a little salty bath time is going to turn me into a robot cheerleader for the fellowship, she’s dead wrong. That was child’s play compared to what I’ve been through. Sorry you had to be there, though, Lowell. I can’t believe she bought that whole story about you sneaking out of services to meet a guy. Fucking ridiculous, no offense.”
>
  Gabi was offended, and clearly it showed.

  “Hey, seriously, I didn’t mean to insult you,” Marnie added hastily. “I just meant because you’re Brother Lowell’s daughter, you know? And you don’t really talk to anyone outside your family ever. I know you did it to help me. That was seriously brave, Lowell.” Marnie nudged Gabi with her elbow, and Gabi nodded her forgiveness before the girl broke one of her ribs in her attempt to make peace. There was some new feeling between them that was unfamiliar to Gabi, and a little unsettling. Try as she may, she couldn’t stop thinking about the way Marnie had looked, standing so strong, defiant, and very, very naked in the secret room. “Hey, I heard you puked on Ginny in the bathroom. Was it the blood that made you throw up? It’s okay if it did. Blood makes lots of people queasy.”

  “No,” Gabi answered. It wasn’t the blood, but the memories of D Wing and the link forged between Marnie, Marcus, and Nicolas by the scars on their torsos that upset her. She knew the question would haunt her if she didn’t ask, even if doing so meant risking her new bond with Marnie. She sucked in a breath, noting that even without the medication, the oxygen hit a wall about two-thirds of the way into her lungs. “Where did you get that scar, Marnie? The one on the left side of your rib cage? Did one of the Tribes do that to you when you and your parents were doing mission work?” Preparing for a blow, which, having seen Marnie naked, she knew the girl was capable of delivering with lethal force, Gabi poised to duck a swinging fist. But the icy fury on Marnie’s face wasn’t for her.

  “The Tribes don’t do that, Lowell. They don’t even call themselves ‘Tribes.’ They’re just people who figured out that the ‘protection’ of the fellowship is just a means of control, courtesy of the council.”

  Gabi felt the urge to turn away and run before Marnie could say one more incriminating thing about Gabi’s crumbling world. How much more could she take without losing everything she loved, including the only home she’d ever known?

  “But why would the council lie about the Tribes?”

  “It’s another way to prove that anyone living outside the fellowship is marked for evil, just like the doctrine says,” Marnie explained, twisting a strand of hair sticky with a fresh coating of gel around one finger, molding it into a knife point.

  “But if the Tribe didn’t give you your scar, who did?” Gabi asked, all caution forgotten.

  Marnie stepped toward her. “I feel like everything I tell you is a risk, Lowell. You’re so far into that whole world, like your dad’s the king and you’re some princess in a tower.” Gabi opened her mouth to protest, but Marnie held up a silencing hand. “I’m going to tell you anyway, though. Because you showed up for me today, and because screw them. The person who branded me was a Witness. It’s always a Witness. The marks have to be given before anyone can be Returned or accepted as a transfer. The Apostles and their underlings give the brands right away so that other teams won’t know Unitas is behind it. They tell the ‘Tribes’ they have to be marked in order to receive aid, for census purposes. For the missionaries working and living with these people like my parents were, it was a way to flag them as potential threats to the fellowship. The Apostles knew my parents’ loyalty was to those they served, not Unitas.”

  Ruth was calling all the campers to the center of the clearing, but Gabi remained rooted in place.

  “So the Witnesses are hurting people?”

  “Not all of them,” Marnie said as she took Gabi’s arm and pulled her toward the circle. “It’s the Apostles, mostly, since they make first contact. There’s a reason they’re trained for combat.”

  There was no time to question Marnie further, as Luke, Beth, Ginny, and Zach herded the team toward Ruth. The head counselor once again looked sweet and fresh-faced, all signs of ugly fervor banished. It was time for the campers to face their obstacles.

  Each camper-mentor pair was asked to split off from their team and join others who had chosen the same obstacle. This year’s exercise was a new component of Consecration Camp. Mathew had heard rumors of it from some of his old camp buddies and had asked Gabi to report back on the specifics. Gabi’s group, Weak Faith, was the smallest, consisting only of her, Luke, a watery-eyed boy with stooped shoulders from Poplar named Troy, and his mentor, Ursula. Apparently few campers wanted to be identified as having Weak Faith, even though Ruth assured them that no negative judgments would be made based on the obstacle chosen.

  After each of the five groups was formed, they struck off in separate directions, following the narrow trails that led away from the clearing. Like the points of a star, Gabi thought, as the shiny pentagram scar on Marnie’s torso rose unbidden in her mind. Due to her whirling thoughts, Gabi barely noticed where her group was going as she followed the backs of Luke’s sneakers ahead of her. The implications of Marnie’s story were clear. The Tribes were not, as doctrine indicated, evil savages abandoned by God. They weren’t even “Tribes” at all. Nor were the Witnesses all sainted saviors anointed by the Will. If Gabi did manage to get recruited, would she become a part of something that was even worse than what she was trying to change? Granted, it wasn’t the Witness work itself, but the opportunity to find someone who might help her expose the council that she sought. Besides, Marnie had assured her that it was the Apostle-led special teams rather than the regular crews that were responsible for carrying out vile acts. There was no way she could make an elite team. Mathew could make it someday, maybe, if he ever changed his mind about being a councilmember, but never she.

  By the time the Weak Faith group came to a stop, Gabi was full of fresh resolve. If anything, Marnie’s story made finding a way to expose the council even more important. So when Luke pulled a large bedsheet out of his backpack, directed Troy and Ursula to stand across from him and grasp the edges, and asked Gabi to climb up on top of the seven-foot boulder in front of them, she didn’t hesitate. She would do exactly as she was asked and do it well, no matter what.

  “Okay, folks, let’s get started,” Luke said, his handsome face alight. He was even more attractive in the speckled light of the glade, but without the subtle drugs in the food warming Gabi’s perceptions, she didn’t get all swoony like she had the night before. “But first, I have a confession to make.” Luke peered at them through his eyelashes. Ursula looked like she wanted to dive under the sheet and invite Luke to join her for some unsupervised physical contact. Troy just stared uncomfortably at Gabi, apparently having already surmised that whatever she would be asked to do, he was next. “We, your devoted counselors, played a trick on you this morning,” Luke admitted. “All of those obstacles on the list? They boil down to the same thing. Weak Faith, Selfishness, Lack of Will, Fear of Losing Control, and Insecurity are all about trust. It’s a lack of trust in our worthiness to serve God. When we trust that our actions on his behalf are blessed, then his Will strengthens us. We become capable of all things in his name!”

  Luke’s voice was absurdly bombastic given the size of his audience, but Ursula and Troy were transfixed. Maybe it was the height or the dispassion of her bird’s-eye view, but Luke’s sermon didn’t touch Gabi. She did make sure to nod, though, and smile at Luke whenever he looked up at her, raising her hands in a gesture of supportive praise. It felt silly and fake, but his beaming response told her the ploy was worth it. “You, who have identified your biggest obstacle as Weak Faith,” Luke went on, favoring Gabi and Troy with a tender smile, “suffer as no one else suffers. You don’t believe, because you still hold to the idea that you, and not God, are responsible for your lives. Until today, that is. Today, that burden will be lifted.” Luke fluttered the sheet, and Gabi’s heart fluttered along with it. “This group is small, and that’s actually perfect. It will force your faith to rise higher to meet the challenge.”

  Luke instructed Ursula and Troy to pull the sheet taut and looked expectantly up at Gabi. Her palms were damp, and the ground seemed to yawn away so she felt as if she were staring into a deep gorge. Luke’s face shone with encouragement, but Ga
bi had the urge to smack it nonetheless.

  “Now, Gabi, I know that from where you’re standing, it seems impossible that the three of us could catch you, but I’m asking you to see through the eyes of faith. Once you surrender, there is nothing to do but trust. If God feels your faith, he will catch you. He will strengthen our arms and cushion your fall. Do you understand?”

  She did understand, but hitting Luke still felt like a very good idea. How could a couple of crazies like Ruth and Luke be allowed to run the show at Consecration Camp, shepherding unsuspecting youth through bizarre exercises that threatened their safety? She had two choices. She could climb down, slink away in defeat, and forget about ever making a Witness team, or she could jump. No, fall. Jumping would increase her velocity, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Gabi stepped toward the ledge of the rock, turned her back toward the raised faces and tipped her body backward, a scream locked in her throat.

  If Gabi had been able to see the ground rear up at her, it would have been much worse. As it was, she was blissfully unaware of the force of her trajectory until she crashed through the puny resistance of the sheet and hit hard. The fabric slowed but didn’t stop her, giving away at one edge and sending her thudding painfully onto her side. Her right arm and shoulder took the brunt of it. Gabi rolled over and lay frozen on her back, the air knocked completely out of her. Used to the feeling of suffocation, she shrugged her shoulder and wriggled her fingers, testing her injuries. They hurt, but movement was possible, so at least she wasn’t paralyzed. She opened her eyes. Luke, Ursula, and Troy were bent over her like scientists over a rare specimen. Luke was sweating, though it couldn’t have been more than fifty degrees in the glade.

  “There she is,” he said, straightening and clapping his hands, the nervous tension in his face dissolving. “Well done, Gabi, though a little ‘On your mark, get set, go!’ would have been nice. Old Troy here was wiping his nose when you dove. God had your back, though. Praise his name!”