Like every other morning she’d been at Mount Hope, reality smackdown came full on when Ava removed the pillow from over her eyes to find the lights blazing, realizing she wasn’t at home. Across from her in the barracks was a cot that contained the sleeping body of the supervising girl, the only person in the bunkhouse Ava was allowed to talk to.
She didn’t know a thing about Mallory, the girl who watched her every move when she was awake, who told Ava her own name meant bad luck. After hearing that, Ava didn’t have the heart to give her a nickname.
Even though they were allowed to talk, Mallory hadn’t told Ava her story. Ava hadn’t told Mallory hers either. Mostly because she didn’t have a complete version to tell.
Mallory flipped over in her bunk so unexpectedly Ava bit her lip. “Staring at another kid, category one punishment—lose ten points,” Mallory whispered, drawing a circle around her face. “Keep to yourself if you want to move up a level and get more privileges.”
With that, her ally’s first subversive advice of the day, morning was broken and gone was the closest thing to safe Ava had felt in minutes.
Mallory jumped out of her bunk and started changing into her uniform of khaki shorts and designated colored tee. Ava got up and grabbed her own clothes, looking the other way as Mallory dressed right out in the open, but not before she saw the ugly scar that ran the length of her roommate’s stomach.
“Get up. Make your bed,” Mallory said, poking the shoulders of the overweight kid. Cheez pretty much kept to herself, as much as a girl could keep to herself in a room the size of Ava’s bathroom at home. Mallory lifted the ratty shade, slapping it against the casing by accident. The girl bolted upright in her bunk, nearly hitting her head on the ceiling. “Sorry,” Mallory said, having shuddered herself at the sound. Guess Ava wasn’t the only one with a reason to be jumpy.
Their boots got locked up at night so no one could run. After getting them back, the three girls made their way single file behind a long string of other kids walking toward the shed, a building where gear was stored. Carrying her day pack, Ava was thankful it wasn’t too cold out and that it had stopped raining. At least it wouldn’t be wet on their first overnight. The sun was low in the sky. If Ava were home, she’d have at least two more swats on the snooze before she’d have to get ready for school. Pine and blueberries wafted through the air, and with each crunch of their hiking boots Ava thought about her mother and sister.
Up in Maine, a Sedgwick family breakfast included a giant stack of pancakes dripping with syrup. Poppy used to dump so many wild berries into the batter that the silver dollars their mother made turned out a funny shade of teal. Ava pushed those memories out of her way as she moved down that path. She’d already learned that eyes filled with tears made it impossible to hike. Ava’s stomach growled so loudly that Mallory shot her a look. Forget about pancakes, Ava would’ve settled for a pinecone oozing sap.
Creepy Justice waited till the whole group had gathered around. “Listen up.” Two piles of bigger backpacks lay in a heap. “You’re each going to carry a pack that makes the one you’ve been carrying for the morning hike feel like a lunch box. Twenty pounds for the girls. Thirty for boys.”
“I know you’re up to the challenge,” a woman said. The counselor Ava had seen at the fire pit on her first night at Mount Hope had her hands on her hips, a whistle dangling from her neck, her thick calves and broad shoulders inches below Justice’s.
He turned to the woman, pointing his index finger at her like a gun. “Everybody here met Honor? She’s our new counselor. You’ll be her first group. Welcome,” he said to her, cocking his head, smiling like the pair of them were at some happy freaking summer camp.
“Justice and I will be organizing this overnight together,” Honor said, stuffing that ridiculous whistle inside her jacket, zipping it up with one hand. “Tonight after we set up camp, we’ll decide which of you will be assigned to me for your one-on-ones.”
Ava flashed a smile the woman’s way. If she stood a chance of convincing anyone she was here by mistake, it would be better to get the newbie counselor. Ava didn’t belong with delinquents. She hadn’t done anything to deserve being sent away, shipped off to the wilderness camp for the hopeless.
Justice and Honor took turns talking the group through what to take from the day packs to add to the rucksacks. An extra pair of shorts, a shirt, a pair of long pants, a thermal blanket, cans of beans, instant soup, a sleeping bag. A fluttery feeling danced in Ava’s chest. “I don’t have a water bottle,” she said, forgetting once again to ask for permission to speak.
“Level Threes carry the water,” Justice said. “Seeds don’t know a damn thing about rationing. Be quiet and put your sweatshirt on.” He poked her arm till it hurt. “Skin like yours will fry up faster than catfish in a skillet.”
Ava pulled the sleeve of her T-shirt down as far as it would go, trying to cover the tattoo she’d once wanted so badly. Now that Justice had touched the outline of those petals, she wished it would up and disappear.
“The ten of you to my right are with Justice,” Honor said. “The rest of you follow me. We’re going together but I want you to stay in your groups. Keep your counselor in sight at all times.”
Ava swung her pack up and on, adjusting the waist belt in front. She’d lost five, maybe six pounds since she’d landed there. Vowing never again to count calories, Ava watched poor Cheez struggle with her belt. She wondered how much more the girl had weighed when she first got to Mount Hope. Rumor had it Cheez had already been there three months. Hiking single file, Ava walked in front of Honor and behind Mallory. Their pace was steady, and Mallory acted like she knew where they were headed. Fringe pulled up the rear in Justice’s group, putting Ava in a better position to be invisible. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
Within a few hours of winding gravel roads and balsam-lined trails, the walk became a climb. Bushwhacking the trail, blowdown had covered the path, and it was sloppy with mud. Sweat trickled down Ava’s waist into her shorts. Blackflies bit the backs of her knees, and her bulky pack made it impossible for her to reach down to swat them. When her calves started cramping and a brick-size knot lodged in her lower back, Ava heard Fringe start to complain.
He hadn’t said anything the first two times he’d fallen. It was Justice who let the group know he was the weakest link.
“Get up! What are you, a faggot? Can’t climb a little hill?” He shouted loud enough for the whole line to hear.
“I need to stop,” Fringe said. “I have to change and put on my sweatshirt.”
Even though he was behind Ava, she could hear his teeth chattering. An acrid smell, from some kind of swamp-like vegetation, started making her sick to her stomach. For the first time, Ava appreciated the lack of a breakfast. The canopy of trees trapped moisture in the forest, blocking out the sun, rotting things that had been there longer than she had.
“Jesus, you shit your pants,” Justice said, covering his mouth and nose, trapping the netting he wore over his face to keep the flies out. “I told you before we left to put on a goddamn sweatshirt. There’s a clearing up ahead, you’re gonna have to wait.”
Ava wasn’t the only one to use the clash between the two to pause and catch her breath. Honor turned back to see if Justice needed help. He had Fringe by the elbow, forcing the kid to stand up.
Mallory shoved Ava’s arm and spoke through clenched teeth. “Stopping without permission—another category one.”
The line was moving again, and inside of a few minutes, they reached a flat space. For the first time the group was allowed to rest. The sun was warm on Ava’s back, and she was thankful for her wide-brimmed hat and its ability to block the glare. Still, the pair of sunglasses she’d left sitting on her bureau in Wellesley would’ve been nice.
It was the kind of view that made Ava want to write. She’d make up lyrics about the extensive trails winding their way around the hill, a collection of veins running down an arm. The shadowy valley, a secret tr
easure, was inspiring. Present company was anything but.
Fringe had his head down, one hand placed like a visor on his forehead. It looked like he was shielding his eyes from the sun; then he swiped under both of them with his fingers. He started to shiver, his arms clutched tight to his chest. He kept mouthing, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, to no one in particular. Ava looked away, scared she’d get caught staring, or worse go to him and get in trouble for being nice. She was embarrassed for him when she noticed his khaki pants were tie-dyed shades of brown.
Cheez panted, fanning the collar of her tee while loosening the strap on her pack. Ava was about to do the same, unbuckling her rucksack, when Mallory butted in.
“If you take off your pack at breaks, it’ll be harder to get it back on. And never, ever take your boots off until nighttime.”
What would Ava do without Mallory’s dribs and drabs of useful information? She was about to thank her when Mallory thrust a water bottle out to her. “Drink to here,” she said, pointing to a line on the plastic.
Savoring sips, Ava wondered when she’d get her next drink. The break didn’t last nearly as long as she needed it to. A circle the size of a quarter had begun tingling inside her left boot. A blister. Ava visualized the skin peeling away from her foot, filling with a nasty colored fluid. An hour into taking the trail down into the valley, she was trying to concentrate on the terrain, but the thing nagged her like her father.
Moving forward, hour after hour, Ava was distracted by rage at her father and the hot pain spreading its wings inside her boot. It wasn’t until Honor yelled back and pointed forward that she saw the narrow stream.
“Untie your packs and hold them as high as you can above your heads. We’re wading across.”
Ava stood on her toes, squinting, trying to take the scene in. The noise the water made flowing over rocks and stones got louder and louder. Or maybe that was her heart beating, shooting blood up her neck. Bang, bang, bang, into her head. Mallory looked back at Ava and nodded. “It’s not that deep,” she whispered.
Ava couldn’t catch her breath. She felt her throat close over as if she’d been stupid enough to swallow a stick. Then the dizziness came, leaving her no time to make the decision to sit. As soon as Ava realized she couldn’t stop this one, she surrendered.
Daddy tries to place me inside a small plane. I grip the exit, petrified he is sending me away. “I’m coming too,” he says. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” But it is not okay. Poppy and Mom are not with us. He won’t tell me where they are. I grab his arm as he buckles me into the seat across from his. Bloody cuts and scrapes cover every inch of his skin. I wonder if I made those marks. Did I hurt my father with my grip?
“Don’t look out the window, Ava. Promise me, you won’t look down.”
I pretend to obey, closing my eyes down to slits. Still I look. Buildings are broken, roads flattened, everything is gray or brown. There are so many people, all of them digging through heaps of trash, piles of wood, stacks of stone.
I imagine a flash of pink. My mother lighting up the darkness. She is wearing one of the pretty Thai costumes my father bought her in the shop beside the beach. Is she watching me lift off to fly toward home? Why isn’t she reaching for me, crying for me, shouting for me to stay?
Ava came to when Justice slapped her on her right cheek; the sting of another smack lingered on her left. The bump on the back of her head throbbed.
“Get up now or you’ll lose your pack. C’mon, faker. Stop your little act.”
Awake but dazed, Ava could see the curved bank of the stream come into focus. Coarse grass sticking out of the flow waved at her, telling her not to be afraid, tempting her to come in. Without any effort, Ava stood. Somehow fear wasn’t keeping her back, it was propelling her forward.
Then she felt Mallory. The girl had taken one arm, and Fringe, the other. Side by side, combining their scraps of strength, they helped her up, raised their packs high, and waded the water.
FIVE
Ava stayed awake nights thinking about the kids who came before her, the ones who tried to run. She especially hated the determined few who’d made it out. Their bravery was the reason the rest of them had to walk heel-toe whenever they went bunkhouse to mess hall, gear shed to Learning Center, fire pit to bunkhouse, a counselor or supervising kid always at their backs.
God forbid Justice let Ava take the straight path to Honor’s cabin by herself on therapy mornings.
Mallory had volunteered to walk Ava to her one-on-one, holding tight to a belt loop on the back of her khakis as Ava led the way. The other times they’d done this, they talked for the ten minutes it took to get to Honor’s. This morning, Ava didn’t pay attention to Mallory until she tugged at her waist, pointing out a branch ready to smack her in the face.
“Got any tricks for keeping track of all these rules?” Ava asked, holding back the branch, making way for Mallory.
“You just do it,” the girl said, cocking her head, telling Ava with her eyes to keep going.
“I’m pretty sure I’m moving up a level today, which means I’ll be giving my dad an earful by dinner. Level Twos get phone calls, right?”
Mallory let go of the branch, thwacking it back on a neighboring tree.
“How should I know? Hurry up. If I’m late getting back we’ll both end up in Worksheets.”
Mallory ran hot and cold. One minute she was telling Ava the things she needed to know to stay out of trouble, the next she got ticked at Ava for asking a simple question. She wasn’t the only kid at Mount Hope who acted like that either. Bad moods could spread through the place like the flu through a high school, making it impossible to know who to trust.
Honor met students in her shoebox of a cabin perched hillside. The screened-in porch where kids talked about as little as possible faced away from the main buildings that made up the camp. For an hour twice a week Ava could almost pretend she was on vacation. Early morning fog, draped in places, was a sheet tumbling off a bed. The hills were dressed in purple and yellow wildflowers. There had to have been songs written about that mountain.
Mallory let go of Ava’s belt loop so she could climb the two steps to the cabin door and knock on wood. “Permission to cross threshold,” Ava called out. Five points for following counseling etiquette.
Twin rockers creaked and sighed. Honor and Fringe materialized out of the dim porch light. Behind the screen, Fringe looked like a regular kid. His shoulders hunched, he didn’t claim his height. He ran his hand through his hair, but it refused to go where he sent it, landing once more in strings on his zitty forehead.
“Arthur, can I trust you to cooperate with Mallory, getting back to the Learning Center? I’d rather not wait for Benno. Ava and I have a lot to discuss.” Honor shoved her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels. She raised a brow, looking for Mallory’s consent.
Benno was the boy version of Mallory, and because of their higher levels, each had extra responsibilities, like keeping the rest of the kids in line. Instead of objecting to being belt-looped by a girl, Fringe lifted his orange tee and aimed his butt toward Mallory.
“No problem,” they both said at the same time.
With three out of four of them oblivious to the intimacy of the gesture, Mallory took hold of Fringe’s belt loop and they made their way down the path. She was the master; he was the dog.
Honor bent down to tie a loose bootlace. Ava watched Mallory steal a glance back at the cabin. As the pair came to the top of the embankment, Mallory let go of Fringe’s belt loop, and through the hazy screen, Ava saw her take his hand.
“Have a seat,” Honor said.
Ava knew Mallory felt bad for Fringe, but what was that?
“I hope you’ll be more focused today,” Honor said, opening a manila folder. “This is your fifth session in almost three weeks, and you’ve got to start owning up.”
Owning up was Mount Hope-speak for offering a full confession in 3-D. Kids told wild stories every night at The Circle—about taking
drugs, drinking, and doing the deed.
Ava had been introduced to the school’s lying fest on her first overnight. After setting up camp, one by one the members of her group sat on the dirt, legs crossed, making one of two semicircles around the fire. There was a man she hadn’t seen before, poking at the wood with a long stick.
“Welcome to The Circle,” Fire Guy said, still focused on the log and flame.
Justice went around confiscating boots, putting them with the backpacks he’d already taken from the group. Honor sat down creating a divide between Ava’s cohort and a larger collection of about twenty kids. On the riffraff side of the campfire, most heads were down, two girls kept sighing, and all the boys had their arms crossed over their chests. The kids on the other side sat up straight like windup toys, their attention focused on Fire Guy. Ava didn’t need to be a counselor to know which kids were new to Mount Hope and which ones had already been programmed.
“I’m Pax,” the man said as he laid down his fire stick and picked up another with feathers and ribbons tied to its ends. He motioned for two kids to scoot down, taking a seat next to Honor. “This is an orientation meeting aimed at letting you know how we run The Circle.”
“We want you to be comfortable sharing what brought you here,” Honor said. “Why you think your parents turned to us for help.”
Pax interrupted her. His nose flared as tiny lines crinkled around his eyes. “We use the Native American talking stick during group.” He raised the thing like he was the star of kindergarten show-and-tell. “When it’s in your hands, you hold the sacred power of words. All others are to remain silent out of respect. The eagle feather tied to this end will give you courage to speak truthfully. The rabbit fur on this end is a reminder that your words must come from the heart. The shell, iridescent and transformative, is a sign that people and situations can change. I guarantee you, you will be changed by what happens to you here.”
“You’ll be changed,” Fringe mumbled as he wiped dirt from his hands on his pants. “You’ll be changed all right,” he said again under his breath.
Girl Sent Away Page 4