SEVEN
Ava’s heels hurt from stomping all the way back from counseling. Benno could barely keep up. She didn’t know what she hated more, that the hottest guy at Mount Hope had someone else’s permission to put his hand on her pants, escorting her back to the Learning Center, or that she wasn’t moving up a level. According to Honor, Ava had work to do. There’d be no phone call home.
“Someone ratted me out,” she said, more to herself than to Benno.
They came into the clearing where counselors were running activities. Clusters of kids sat around picnic tables for craft class, identical robots pretending to like making dream catchers and cornhusk dolls.
“I can’t believe all my points. Wiped out.” Ava snapped her fingers. “I’m back at the beginning.”
“Did Honor tell you what for, or do you already know? When I first got here, they laid all kinds of crap on me, things I didn’t do. Justice especially loves to watch a kid deny the stuff he made up. Looks right at you, smirking. Sick bastard.”
Benno was a wild kind of cute. Glossy black hair without relying on sunshine. Dark eyes with barely any lid, all mystery and danger. Which was probably why he landed at Mount Hope in the first place.
“Yeah, she told me.” Ava replayed the scene Honor had referred to. The last blackout happened when she and Fringe were on kitchen duty. In twenty minutes, they were supposed to peel an entire boatload of carrots, with Mallory sitting on a stool watching them.
Fringe started talking about not having a mother. Everything he said came out sharp or flat, and suddenly Ava’s ears were filling with cotton, all airy and soft. She moved toward Mallory, thinking she had time to push the girl off the stool so she could sit down and put her head between her knees. Ava never made it passed the edge of the counter.
The mother is dressed in a plaid skirt, her blouse tucked in at the waist. Her hair is pulled to one side with a barrette. Standing on a hill by the shore, she pours milk from a bottle into a glass. She starts to speak, but her voice belongs to a girl. “I’ll take good care of Jane. I’m a big girl and I can watch so she doesn’t tumble into the water.” Then the voice changes; it belongs to a woman, but it is hush and shush. She holds a book. She fans the pages. “Let me row, row, row your boat.” Her voice lulls me. “See, the lyrics are really poetry. Would you like to swing, swing, swing on a star?”
Twenty-four hours after Ava collapsed in a heap, those images were landing her in trouble. The mother and sister in that flashback were so veiled in a mist, she couldn’t even tell if they were hers. Walking now with Benno, Ava wasn’t worried about how those pictures fit into her life or even if they did. Mostly what she was stuck on was that Mallory and Fringe saw her hit the kitchen floor and one of them wrote in a workbook that she had been faking.
“What kind of person assumes a kid is pretending unconscious instead of making sure she’s not for real,” Ava asked Benno. “Is there even a doctor on this mountain?”
“Too bad. I took you for a smarter chick.”
“What do you mean?”
“The number one stupid thing people do? Pretend to pass out. I’m starving. I can’t hike another step,” Benno whined, exaggerating kids’ complaints. “Ever see McEttrick pull it? Makes it look real as hell. He even does this thing when he comes to, where he looks around and starts talking to people who aren’t there. Christ, if you’re gonna try to get out of here on a medical, you’re gonna have to do better than that.”
“What’s a medical?”
“Eat enough of those purple berries to puke your guts out. Or waste your water till you’re so dehydrated you go comatose. You got to go big. It’s got to be real.”
She’d seen those berries on the trail to the Ledges. Tempting little treats Honor warned them not to pick. On every single hike, Ava counted the steps to her next sip of water. She couldn’t imagine ever letting the dirt have her share.
“Don’t bother trying, Ava. You don’t have what it takes.” Benno pushed her head the way a brother does. But there was nothing brotherly about the way he let his hand linger in her hair.
Ava shook his hand free, hating him for thinking he could touch her without asking. Mostly she despised him for assuming she was weak. Benno didn’t have a clue what Ava was capable of doing to survive.
“You’re pretty,” he said, softly. The word sounded funny, dainty coming from Benno. Ava could imagine him telling a girl she was fierce or hot, but not pretty.
Ignoring the flattery, she nodded like a good Seed to Pax as they rounded the admin building. Herr Direktor was sitting on the front stoop with his clipboard.
A few yards from the Learning Center, Benno pretended to trip. Right in her ear he whispered, “If you want more freedom around here, form alliances with a couple of kids. If you want to graduate the program, give it up on everyone else.”
That’s what Ava thought she had with Mallory—an alliance. After seeing her holding hands with Fringe, that’s what Ava figured Mallory had with him too. God the girl was moody, but Ava hadn’t found a single kid here who wasn’t. She didn’t peg Mallory for a snitch. She’d been helping Ava so far. Which left the boy with the bangs.
Fringe had been through here enough times to know counselors read their workbooks. He had to be the one who said Ava was a faker.
The door to the Learning Center was open. Benno let go of her belt loop once they were standing in front of Justice. He was leaning back in his desk chair, both arms raised and crossed behind him. Huge pit stains framed his big fat head. Not one Seed looked up from writing in their workbooks.
“Ten points for a co-op walk. Perm to ask?” Benno asked.
The clipped phrases that made up Mount Hope lingo were becoming second nature to Ava. She’d cooperated on the way back, so she got points. Benno asked permission to speak, so he got some too.
“Go ahead,” Justice said, staring her up and down.
“Ava asked to make amends, sir. She wondered if she could volunteer time in Worksheets or have extra practice with the bow drill.”
Three weeks ago Ava would have shouted, no I didn’t! Why would she ask to spend the rest of the afternoon in a room hotter than this one, listing her faults, copying them over and over until she ran out of paper? Worksheets was a punishment, and Ava hadn’t done anything wrong. But she was catching on. “Making amends” moved things along. Benno figured she’d be one of his allies if he taught her to make fire, since Ava still couldn’t do it without help.
“Even the feisty ones end up coming around. You own up with Honor?” Justice asked her.
“Yes, sir,” Ava said, and so she wouldn’t get in trouble for exaggerating her progress, she added, “I’m working on coming clean, sir.”
“Benno, keep escorting. I got two Seeds who need to go to counseling. When Mallory gets back, I’ll have her show City Girl how to get a spark from a stick. Wouldn’t want her freezing her butt off on our next overnight. She complained enough for three of you on the last trip.”
When Benno turned to go, Justice ran his fingers over Ava’s hand. It took every cell in her body not to react. Not to shake his paw off. Not to push his chair, sending him into the wall, tipping him onto the floor. Ava had to believe her dad would go ballistic if he saw this creep working his hand up her arm, brushing his hand across her breast.
But Ava needed to get to Level Two. Red shirts got phone calls.
Her mind raced trying to figure out how to fib her way to get what she needed, to be cunning. Why shouldn’t Ava make stuff up? Every kid at Mount Hope was pegged a liar. How many came in that way, she couldn’t say. But she was sure that’s how every single one of them would go out.
Backing up, Ava bumped a chair and sat down. She didn’t get one page of lies written in her workbook before Mallory walked into the Learning Center. Ava was making up some unoriginal story about the first time she drank when she heard Justice tell Mallory to take her to the pit.
Mallory belt-looped her there, not saying a word.
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br /> Ava never had any trouble with the first steps in making fire. Whittling the board and drill was easy. So was stringing the bow. While she went through the motions of the stuff she could do, Mallory sat cross-legged on the dirt, waiting for Ava to get to the part she still couldn’t master.
“You’ve got to lock your wrist against the upright leg. It’ll keep the drill steady. That’s it.” Mallory was a good teacher, real encouraging.
“It’s killing my arm,” Ava said, unable to get enough friction. Each time her muscles were tested, she wanted to let go. Part of her didn’t want to be strong. “I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. Last night you told me you’re a musician. Pick a song with the right rhythm. Sing it in your head. Or do what I do. Think about an overnight without your sleeping bag and the thing will light up before your eyes.”
With hers half-closed, Ava hummed a song she wrote a long, long time ago. She let the words run through her head.
“Look,” Mallory said.
A hint of smoke wafted up out of the fire board. Ava lifted it to find a small black dot visible on the coal catcher.
“Fan it. Lightly. There’s no hurry now.”
Smoke kept coming, like memories, hazy and impossible to see or hold on to. Without Mallory telling her to, Ava knew to transfer the coal to a small pile of leaves. Picking them up, cupping them in her hands, she blew gently. Mallory clapped when the spark of flame burst free. The last person to clap for Ava after she sang one of her songs might have been her mother.
“Fringe wrote in his workbook that I faked a blackout in the kitchen,” Ava said, trying to shake her mom from her mind. Tending her fire, seeing the process through from leaves to wood, she kept her eyes on what she was doing. “I made it to the next level with points to spare. I was on my way, and now I have to start all over.”
“Who told you he did that?” Mallory grabbed a handful of leaves, ripped them to shreds and tossed them into the fire.
“Well, you didn’t do it so it had to be Fringe. He was the only other one there.”
“His name is Arthur, and you can’t blame him. He’s sick.”
“Benno says he’s a faker. Passing out. Pretending to hear voices.”
“That’s what everyone says you’re doing. Faking. We both know you’re not. You’ve seen him. Kids like him shouldn’t be here. He needs —”
“I saw you holding hands with him in the woods. What was that about?”
“Did Honor see?” Mallory’s hushed voice filled with panic, but her body didn’t give her away.
Ava shook her head as she transferred her fire to the pit.
“Listen,” Mallory said. “You can handle starting over. You’re smart. If you want to, you can figure out how to work the program. He can’t. It’s his third time being dumped here by his father.”
“Why would you form an alliance with him? Risk your own level?”
Mallory stopped throwing leaves into the pit. She looked both ways, then positioned Ava’s fire board and drill on the ground.
“What? Tell me,” Ava said, moving closer to Mallory, keeping her voice down. “You can trust me.”
Mallory started playing charades, getting down on one knee, showing Ava the same motion she’d just nailed to make the fire that was roaring in front of them. Even though Ava didn’t see a single kid or staffer, Mallory kept rotating the drill, pointing to the ground. Her make believe teaching moves didn’t fit what she was saying.
“Tonight at The Circle, Pax is going to announce who’s moving up.” She pointed to the drill again, as if she were showing it to Ava for the first time. “I’m the new junior counselor assigned to Honor,” she whispered. “Benno’s gonna be with Justice.”
Ava picked up a couple of pinecones, chucking one and then the other into the fire. She hated that it suddenly smelled like Maine.
“I’m getting out the Mount Hope way,” Mallory said, grinding the stick into the plank of wood. “But I’m gonna figure out how to take Arthur with me.”
“Are you crazy?”
“He’s not just weird,” Mallory said. “He needs a psych hospital.”
Seconds passed, the fire crackled. It was the only sound between them until Ava spoke. “Take me too.”
Mallory alarmed her when she didn’t say anything. It made Ava sick to think her father sent her here, sicker still to think he might not have told anyone what happened to her mother and sister. Ava needed a backup plan in case he never came for her. It looked like that would have to include Fringe and Mallory.
“I can help you.” Ava lied, not having a clue what she’d say if Mallory pushed her to say how.
“You want an alliance? Then you can’t badger me. I’ll tell you the stuff you need to know, when you need to know it. Haven’t I so far?”
Ava nodded, pretending she was appreciating Mallory’s fire-starting technique.
“Don’t you dare tell anyone,” Mallory said. “You rat me out and we’ll see who they believe. The girl sent back to Level One, or the Mount Hope star who’ll do anything to get her kid back.”
“I swear,” Ava said, under her breath.
The temperature must’ve dropped ten degrees since they’d started. Ava put her cold hands out over the flame, bumping into Mallory’s on purpose. This, her pathetic way to make their deal official.
EIGHT
It was impossible to pull the splinters out of her swollen fingertips without tweezers. New kids equaled no sharps, not even supervised by a counselor. Curled into her bunk, with Cheez snoring a symphony above her and Mallory turned to the wall, Ava worked at the biggest one, lodged in the index finger of her right hand. As she kept on digging and plucking, all Ava could think of was that time Poppy took red grapes, hollowing out enough of the insides so they’d stick one on each finger. If hers didn’t hurt so much now, Ava might’ve smiled remembering her sister flashing jazz hands until every grape went flying.
It was Ava’s own fault, how messed up her fingers were. Last week, the punishment for failure to complete a workbook assignment was two hours in the prayer position. Hands clasped above her head, standing saint-still with nothing to lean on, it was a consequence she was willing to accept for refusing to write in that stupid thing. But yesterday, Honor changed things up; instead, she banished Ava from group to the woodpile because she wouldn’t write about her biggest fear so that everyone at Mount Hope could read it.
Two hours stacking logs with no gloves, and thirty-six hours later Ava was still picking at slivers.
Blowing strands of hair from her eyes, she gave up on her hands. Undoing her ponytail was easy, pulling it back again was anything but. By the fourth wince, Ava had had it. She gave in to silent sobbing.
That’s when she saw Mallory move, sliding soundlessly from her cot. On her way over to Ava’s side of the room, she mouthed a comforting shhhh. Like a mime, she motioned for Ava to make room, and sitting down behind her, she began to braid her hair. Ava could tell she wasn’t very practiced at it, her hair was so short. Mallory started, then restarted, trying to smooth out the bumps as she went. Ava didn’t care. Her touch was kind. Like a sister’s.
“I believe you,” she whispered in her ear. “About Thailand.”
She turned abruptly, making Mallory lose the grip she had on her hair.
Ava mouthed the words, “Who told you?”
Mallory tipped her head and, using only her face, she called Ava naïve. That’s when Ava realized Benno had been listening to her session with Honor long before he knocked on the screen door. Which meant by now everyone at Mount Hope knew what she’d talked about in her one-on-one.
“I had a sister too,” Mallory whispered. “Emmy had a kind of heart condition. She died during the surgery they did to try and fix it.”
“Oh my God. How old was she?”
“Twelve. It happened four years ago. My parents still have a freaking shrine to her in our living room. Pictures, candles, the whole nine. Every sentence begins with Emmy this, Emmy tha
t. I loved her, but when I’m at home I can’t breathe.
“My dad’s the opposite. It’s impossible to talk about Poppy or Mom without him looking like he’s going to crack in two at the sound of their names. So we don’t.”
“That’s the same with my mom where my baby’s concerned. I don’t think she’s ever once said his name. Michael Vincent, my beautiful boy.”
Ava wished she could see a picture of Michael, but she knew that even if Mallory had been beyond clever, she wouldn’t have been able to smuggle one in.
“It’s like they’re punishing me and him for living,” Mallory said.
“Who’s taking care of him while you’re here?”
“He’s in foster care. My parents wanted me to give him up for adoption, to one of their friends who can’t have kids. When I wouldn’t, they shipped me off.”
Could Mallory’s story get any worse?
“I still can’t understand why my dad sent me here,” Ava said. “I don’t think he had any idea what it’s really like.”
“Some parents know and don’t care. Others have no clue because Pax tells them a load of crap. Who doesn’t want to believe there’s an easy way to fix us?”
Ava hadn’t felt broken until Mallory talked about them needing to be repaired.
“Look,” she said. “Your dad sounds like a saint compared to mine. The last thing I heard my father say was that no baby should have a lousy mother like me, or a father who’s capable of doing this.” Mallory patted her stomach.
Ava was relieved when Mallory didn’t lift up her shirt to show her the scar. It was as if she knew Ava had already seen it.
A month ago, Ava might’ve agreed with Mallory that her father wasn’t so bad. He wasn’t around much but he was never mean. She couldn’t remember a time when he’d hurt her on purpose.
Until he sent her to Mount Hope.
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