Never Sleep

by Cady Vance

  Softly, he says, “Talk to me after class, Thora.”

  My eyes are on fire as I turn the quiz over. A big, red “F” slaps me in the face.

  The rest of the day blurs by until I’m sitting at the dinner table with Odin and my parents. He’s poking at his food. Even though I’m normally starving, I can only stare at my potatoes, wishing I could fold myself up inside them.

  “Let’s hear it,” Dad finally says. “What grade did you get on your test?”

  I reach into my backpack, pull out the test and slide it across the table to him. He flips the paper over and grumbles something too low for me to hear.

  “Alright, you know what this means,” he says. “We’ll be sending you to the Clinic first thing Monday morning.”

  Anger and fear roar through me. I push back my chair. It scrapes loud in the quiet room as I stand, and it tumbles down onto the floor. It crashes and rattles, a chunk of wood chipping off from the impact.

  “I can’t go there, I can’t. I don’t want to.”

  “See, Thora, you need help. You can’t even stand up without breaking the chair. I’m just glad you weren’t in it when you crashed it onto the floor.”

  “Dad, I’m mad! Not Collapsing at the dinner table!”

  “Lower your voice,” he says. “Pick up that chair.”

  “I’m going with her, Dad.” Odin finally speaks up.

  My dad throws his napkin onto the table in a fierce, angry motion. “I’ve had it with the both of you.”

  That night was the last dinner we had as a family, and Monday morning when they dropped us off at the Clinic was the last time I saw either of them until two days ago.

  I glance to the clock and see the half hour is almost up. After throwing back the covers, I pad across the room. I press my body against the door and lean an ear to the wood, listening for the doctor’s heavy footsteps in the hallway. Sweet, blissful silence.

  Time to break out of here.

  Thirty-One

  Your child’s health, well-being and happiness are our number-one priority.

  - The Galvanism Handbook for Parents

  I step into the hall and see Florence creeping toward me, her hair swinging with each stealthy step. The door to Lottie’s room cracks open and wide gray eyes peek out at me. She motions me and Florence inside. At least if the doctors notice we’re out of our rooms now, they won’t guess we’re in here.

  Inside, Lottie has tried to make her room feel more like her own. A single purple pillow decorates the bed while two band posters are tacked to the wall. An open closet door reveals three more hospital gowns identical to the one we’re all wearing. I guess she’s not allowed to have her regular clothes. Every moment in this place makes me glad I ended up in a Clinic that at least tried to pretend it was home.

  “Okay, we have about an hour before the nurses come by with lunch.” Lottie pulls back her covers and stuffs the purple pillow underneath. I hate to tell her the lump looks nothing like a teenage girl’s resting form.

  “The nurses won’t be delivering lunch today.” Florence shoots us her trademark wicked grin while absentmindedly flicking at her ear. “Not to these insomniacs.”

  Lottie grins back. “Okay. Stay a little behind me. If I cough, someone’s coming so try to hide somewhere.” She peeks out from under her thick bangs. “Keep an eye out behind us. And be quiet.”

  Chills course over my bare arms. It will take a miracle for this to work. It will take a miracle for Odin to be alive. But then I picture Lucas. His eyes, his laugh, his smile, and I know I can do this. For him and for us. He saved me so many times, and now it’s my turn. It’s time for me to be the heroine of my own story, to be less like Sleeping Beauty and more like Mulan.

  We leave Lottie’s room and crouch-walk our way down the hallway toward the nurse’s station again. I close my eyes for a moment at the thought of Aiden and his betrayal. If it weren’t for him, we might not be stuck in this place. Maybe he was the one who got us caught. Maybe that was his goal all along, to reel us in and trap us here. I curl my hands into fists at how worried we all were, at how we went looking for him, at how that’s what got Florence caught.

  Lottie stops at the corner and peeks around at the nurse’s station. I keep an eye out behind us, watching the empty hallway and listening for the click of shoes against sterile tile. Florence pulls on my sleeve, and I turn to see Lottie inching back from the corner.

  “There are three nurses at the station right now, but the doctor isn’t there,” she says in a quiet slip of breath.

  “Can we get past them?” I ask.

  “It’s fifty, fifty.” Lottie absently picks at a fray in her gown. “If one of us does it. If we all go, there’s no way they’d miss us walking by them.”

  “No,” Florence says before Lottie can say more. “Fucking no. I can barely think straight. I’m not going down that hall by myself.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll do it,” I hear myself say. “I can’t stand here anyway. I need to do something.” My energy from the treatment has made me restless.

  “You sure?” Lottie asks, face softening in relief.

  “One hundred percent.”

  My white gown whispers against my legs as I move around Lottie. The concrete wall feels rough as I slide my back against it. When I poke an eye around the corner, I see three nurses clustered behind a curved counter. My stomach rolls like the ocean. Aiden is there, looking bored as he listens to the three women chatting in some animated conversation. Every so often, he nods, but I can tell he couldn’t care less about what they’re discussing.

  Not one of them notices me. I feel as if I’m a ghost about to slide into their midst. Not entirely real. A phantom in a white gown, blood-red hair trailing behind me.

  I ball my fists. Ready, one, two, three, go.

  I curve around the corner and walk straight down the hall past their station like I know exactly where I’m going. I tell myself I’m a blur of motion, too fast for them to see. If they happen to scan this hall, they may see a splash of red or the dark purple of my toenails, but nothing more.

  Halfway past, I glance their way to see if I’ve been spotted. Aiden’s eyes are trained right on me. Blood rushes into my face. He stiffens and then casts his gaze away, shifting slightly so his back turns toward me.

  My feet keep slapping the ground in a relaxed pace, but my body screams to run, waiting for the alarm to sound, for the nurses to rush after me. Aiden just behind them, a triumphant smile on his treacherous face. But nothing happens, and suddenly I am safely on the other side of the hall. I press my back against the concrete wall and edge around the corner, finding myself in a short, doorless hallway lined with carts. My held breath whooshes out of me, and I take a few deep grateful gulps to steady myself, not entirely sure what just happened. Aiden helped me? Or maybe at this point, he thinks I’m no longer a threat. What does he care if I’m going for a stroll down the halls of my prison?

  No matter what he may have just done, I can’t forgive or even forget the fact he’s the reason I’m here to begin with. The reason Lucas is behind an electronically-locked door. Yeah, I still want to punch his face in, though maybe not as hard as I wanted to before. I can’t help but think about when we met at the very beginning of the night. He didn’t want to go to The Strand. He had to have known. Was he warning us then? And if he works for these people, then why?

  I peer around the corner to make sure no one has followed me. Lottie’s eyes poke out from behind her corner further down the hall, and she smiles when she sees I’ve reached my destination. I give her a weak thumbs-up before pivoting away.

  I examine the carts lining the wall. They’re cluttered with random, basic medical tools. Syringes, gauze pads, cotton balls, bottles of alcohol, boxes of Kleenex, and there, on a corner cart, a pile of individually plastic-wrapped needles.

  I grab a few of the needles, and a couple of syringes for good measure, before checking the hall again. No one is coming my way. Before attempting the tre
k back to Lottie and Florence, I take a look around the carts one more time to make sure there isn’t something that could come in handy during our escape. A couple food carts are here as well, cartons of OJ squatting on the trays. My mouth forms a hard line. There’s a medicine bottle sitting right by the juice. I don’t hesitate even a second longer. My fingers close around the bottle. The drug is mine now.

  When I edge around the corner again, I’m relieved to see the nurses are still deep in their conversation. I slip past them and back to my friends. Florence’s eyes light up when I round the corner and wave the needles in the air for her to see, but we don’t say a word as we stride away from the corner and into the next wing.

  Lottie pauses before an unmarked door. “I’m pretty sure this is where they’re keeping our stuff.” She jiggles the knob, but it’s locked like we thought.

  I place the needles into Florence’s open palm and motion to the doorknob. “Okay, Florence. It’s all yours.”

  Light sparks in her eyes as she takes the sharp instruments from my fingers. “This should be fucking easy. They don’t know much about locks around here.”

  I decide not to mention Lucas’s electronic lock. Instead, I send her a serious nod before easing my way back down the hall to keep my eyes and ears open for anyone approaching. I pause at the corner and start to peek around it to check the hall containing our rooms. That’s when I hear the thudding footsteps and see the shadow of a tall figure stretching toward me on the shiny checkered floor.

  Thirty-Two

  Our Field Workers are employed to ensure the safety of your child in case of any emergency circumstances.

  - The Galvanism Handbook for Parents

  I rip myself away from the corner and whirl to face my friends who are still hovering by the storage room door.

  “I think someone is coming,” I mouth to Lottie. She grimaces and whispers something into Florence’s ear. Florence nods, not pausing in her attack against the lock.

  I glance to the ground. The shadow is lengthening as the footsteps grow louder. I slowly back away, wishing for a cart or anything at all to hide behind. But the hall is starkly empty. As I keep backing toward my friends, I can hear Florence’s heavy breath as she clicks at the knob. I know she can work fast, but I’m not sure she can work fast enough.

  The knob clicks loud, and I hear a rush of movement as my friends hustle inside. They pull me in behind them, and the door swings shut into darkness. There is the sound of fumbling and scratching before the room floods with light. I blink at the sudden brightness.

  The concrete walls are lined with old wooden cubby holes that remind me of kindergarden, where we’d place our jackets and shoes before settling onto the floor for a morning full of coloring book fun. I open my mouth to speak, but Lottie’s finger flies to her mouth in the universal sign for silence.

  We wait. The footsteps tread closer, and I hope whoever is out there can’t see the beams of light bursting through the cracks of the doorframe. I’d flick off the light, but I’m afraid the noise will resound like a gunshot. Florence grips my arms when the footsteps pause. I hold every inch of my body still, in case Lucas isn’t the only one they’ve gifted with superhero hearing. After what feels like an entire day, the footsteps continue again and then finally fade away.

  We move to the cubby holes silently. I see my clothes almost instantly and grab them from their perch, thankful I can change into something other than this damn, drafty gown. A red and green object peeks out at me from the depths of my cubby hole. It’s my necklace, still gifted with the yoyo and the chess piece. My heart lifts at the sight of it, at knowing it has also somehow survived the night.

  When I turn to Florence, she already has her earbuds stuffed into her ears. Her face completely transforms. All exhaustion disappears, erased by guitar chords. A lightness lifts her features, so much she almost seems like a different person. She wiggles into her jeans like a dance move, in sync to whatever song is erasing the pain from her eyes.

  Good idea. I follow suit, quickly changing into my clothes and tossing my gown into the cubby hole. I lift the necklace over my head and sigh in relief at the now familiar heaviness around my neck. If anyone sees us in our street clothes, they won’t have any doubt what we’re up to, but I’m sure as hell not wearing that napkin anymore. I slide my feet into my slippers, grateful for their soft warmth, though I’m tempted to grab the pair of Converse sneakers from the cubby next to mine.

  “You guys ready to go?” Lottie asks once she’s donned a cute, flowered hipster dress and ballet flats.

  “Hell. Fucking. Yes.” Florence pats the bag at her side, and I can’t help but grin. The Bottomless Thief Toolbox. We’re truly back in business now. “Take me to the utility closet.”

  “The room across the hall has a ‘Maintenance’ sign on it.” Lottie shrugs into a light pink pea coat. “If that’s not it, I don’t know what is.”

  “Let’s start there,” Florence says. She may still have dark bags underneath her eyes, but it’s good to see her looking alive again. Brimming with energy. If any one of us is going to make this plan work, it’s Florence.

  We crack open the door. The hallway is empty. We quickly slip into the corridor and close the door behind us, not bothering with the lock. As soon as Florence works her magic, they’ll have no doubt something is going on here.

  After treading across the hall, Florence tries the knob. Locked. She slips her lockpicking tool from her bag and has the door open much faster than the one before. When we slip into the darkness, we’re met with a stench of mold and lingering cigarette smoke combined with a strange metallic tang I can almost taste. I wrinkle my nose.

  My fingers grope the wall for the light switch, and when the dim light fills the room, dust swirls through the air. Metal shelves climb the walls on either side of us. We huddle together in the small space, glancing around the room crowded with half-empty cleaning bottles, sagging cardboard boxes and stacks of generic hospital gowns.

  Florence edges around the room, craning her neck around the shelves to see behind them. Her fingers grope through cobwebs, pushing aside thick layers of dust. I guess hospital cleanliness doesn’t apply to cramped closets.

  “It’s here,” Florence says, tapping a fingernail on a gray metal case mounted on a wall behind a cluster of mops and brooms. I pull the mops aside, dragging dirty cloth strands across the tile, as Florence moves in closer to the case. When she flicks it open, rows of black switches are revealed, each one labeled by handwritten marker on thin strips of masking tape.

  Florence runs her fingers down the switches and stops about halfway down. “Here, video cameras.” She twirls to Lottie. “Do you know if each floor has its own breaker box?”

  Lottie shakes her head, brown hair swishing on the brown and pink flowers of her dress. “Not a clue.”

  “Hmm.” Florence nibbles on her bottom lip. Her finger continues to trail down the switches. “There are some things labeled as the second floor, so I’m going to go out on a limb here and say we’re looking at one breaker. Keep your fingers crossed I’m right, because otherwise this isn’t going to take out all the cameras. Only some.”

  “We have to take that chance,” I say, knowing full well the number of chances we’re taking make our odds much worse than a Jonah Hex sequel doing well at the box office.

  “That’s what I like to hear.” She opens her Bottomless Thief Toolbox and rustles around. I’m dying to know what she has hidden in the folds of that bag, but before I can ask, she pulls out a small black ball colorfully decorated with twisting red and green wires.

  “Here, hold this,” she says, pushing the ball into my hands before extracting a small square device from her bag. The ball is heavy and rough. I don’t want to be in the same room with it. Much less hold it in my hands.

  “It’s not going to explode if I drop it or anything, is it?” I hold the ball away from my body, like that would do me any good if it decided to burst between my fingers.

  S
he snorts and holds up the controller. “Not unless I tell it to.”

  “Brilliant.” I eye the black ball before realizing I said a Lucas-ism. My heart skips a beat. I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t get to him.

  Florence runs her fingers along the outside of the metal breaker box. Wires grow from the top like a head of thick, gray hair. She snatches the bomb from my hands and rams it into the middle of the wires. Only an inch of black peeks out at us.

  “There. Not noticeable if someone happens to come in here in the next ten minutes.” She puts an ear to the door. “Still quiet. Lottie, make the call.”

  Lottie extracts her cell phone from her pocket, taps in 4-1-1 and waits. I hear the burring of the ring from her speaker. After waiting to be connected to a taxi company, her face brightens when someone finally answers.

  “Yeah, we need a couple of taxis in about ten minutes.” A pause. “Okay, great, thanks. We need to pay for this ahead of time with a credit card.” She reaches out to me, and I hand over the credit card I snatched from some random girl’s clothes. I figure we can find a way to pay her back some day. Lottie reads off the card information to the cab company and ends the call with a satisfied finger tap on the touchscreen.

  Lottie smiles. “One down, one to go.” She dials 4-1-1 again and goes through the same motions, only asking for a different taxi company this time. “Yeah, we need a couple of taxis in about ten minutes, and we have an odd request if you don’t mind.” She waits for the response. “Well, we need you to come here and wait for two other taxis to leave. When they do, we need you to drive off without any actual passengers.” She waits again. “No, no, nothing bad about this. We’re playing a prank on a friend. We’ll pay you whatever you want if you do this for us.” She exchanges a few more assurances this odd request is on the up and up before she finally gives me and Florence a thumbs-up. I grin and pump my fist in the air for victory, Florence dancing along with me. “Thank you so much.” She reads off the address and credit card information, taps off her phone and joins our fist pump victory dance.