Mallory went back to braiding Ava’s hair, pulling it tight without hurting her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t do stuff to get this place on your dad’s radar,” she said.
“Yeah, I screwed up. But not on purpose. It’s hard to explain.”
“You can tell me,” Mallory said.
“I’m remembering stuff. About the day they died. It’s a jumble. Doesn’t make much sense. But it’s messing with me.” Finally saying these things out loud made Ava feel small. “I think a lot about my mother. I’m kinda mad at her for leaving me. I’m such a freak. It’s not like the tsunami was her fault.”
“Maybe you’re not really angry with her. Just at the horrendous situation. I mean, shit Ava, it had to be unreal.”
As much as she wanted an alliance with Mallory, to stop feeling so alone, Ava couldn’t keep talking about that place, on that day. Not right before closing her eyes.
“Some of what comes back to me is good. Nice things about my sister Poppy. She was the funniest kid ever.”
Cheez flipped over in her bunk, banging away on her bedsprings, letting out a pissed-off sigh. Mallory and Ava froze. She mouthed sorry, pointed an index finger toward her cot, and in three steps, Ava’s ally was back in her bed. Slumber party over.
It took forever to quiet her thoughts. To stop thinking of Mallory and her baby and that scar that practically cut her roommate in two. Ava didn’t dare summon her mother. Instead she focused on Poppy. Until her mind wandered over to her dad. At first Ava had to agree with Mallory that he wasn’t so bad. Then the last thing she wondered before the slow sink into sleep was how he could’ve sent her away.
There’s a tap on my shoulder. “Ava, wake up.” I twist and turn, tangled in bed sheets, trying to follow the sound. I open my eyes to find my father standing over me. He looks different, thinner, with more hair on the top of his head. It’s him, only younger. I want to ask him what he’s doing here at Mount Hope. Has he come to take me home? Nothing comes out. Then I realize my hands are covering my mouth. One on top of the other, spread wide, like they’re glued to my lips. My stomach rumbles, something liquid sloshes around inside, making me queasy. “I told you not to talk about them,” he says. My father shoves me hard. My whole body shakes in waves bigger and more violent than any chills from fever. The tremors are uncontrollable, but they loosen my hands from my mouth. As soon as I take them down, a flood escapes me. I watch as the force of the water blows my father back against the cinder-block wall.
“Get up. You’re gonna make us late for group.”
Ava woke to find Mallory and Cheez standing above her, blocking the light.
She touched her hair. The braid was tight, which meant confiding in Mallory last night wasn’t part of the dream.
“Sorry. It’ll only take me a minute.”
Ava pulled on her khakis, stiff from not having been washed for days, and grabbed her orange tee from under her pillow, stealing a glance to the other side of the bunkhouse. Only halfway out of her early morning fog, Ava needed to check to be sure her father wasn’t lying there under the window in a pool of her venom.
They made it to group with minutes to spare. Wednesday mornings before breakfast, a handful of kids sat in a circle on Honor’s porch floor and took turns reading out loud from workbooks. Before they got started, Honor pulled Mallory aside to tell her something private. Everyone else moved the chairs.
“Ava, I understand you’ve had a change of heart on completing assignments. Do you want to go first?” Honor asked.
Like she had a choice, Ava nodded, accepting the workbook Honor handed her, flipping through until she found the writing prompt in bold letters on the top of the page: Write about a time when you were out of control.
When Ava finished telling the group how she stole a six-pack of strawberry daiquiris from a liquor store, got smashed, and drove into Boston in her dad’s car, randomly picking out a tattoo, then driving back home, Ava closed her workbook and looked up to see Honor smiling at her like she’d just learned to ride a bike without training wheels. Mallory and Fringe had their heads down. The rest of the group looked bored. Ava’s stories were getting better, but they couldn’t compete with the tall tales and fake fables the other kids made up. If she didn’t know they were in therapy, she’d think they were in creative writing class. Ava’s honors English teacher at Wellesley High would be handing out A’s like they were number two pencils.
“Does anyone have anything they want to ask Ava? Any comments to share?”
Nobody said anything. Not one kid asked for permission to speak.
Honor tapped Ava on the knee. “I think you’ve successfully managed to turn things around. In one week, you’ve moved up a level.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. Doing everything Mallory had told her to, she’d made it to Level Two. Goodbye, orange shirt. Hello, phone call!
In the week since they’d formed their alliance by the fire pit—except for the lapse that landed Ava in the woodpile—she’d put her energy into working the program instead of messing around trying to keep track of things. And she’d watched Mallory. Looking for signals, waiting for the conversation where the girl would tell Ava how she was going to get them out.
“Can I say something about what Ava shared?” Mallory turned away from her roommate. She sat up straight like a counselor did just before calling a kid out.
“Of course. I’m interested in how you experience Ava,” Honor said.
Leaning in, both elbows on her knees, Honor folded her hands like she was praying, resting her chin on the tips of her fingers. The other kids perked up. Nothing got the group’s attention better than a whiff of confrontation.
“Ava told me she had a sister named Poppy. Which means the stuff she wrote in her workbook about randomly picking her tattoo is a lie.”
In slow motion, Ava felt her jaw drop. What was Mallory doing? And why was she doing it to her? If Ava lost a level because of her, she wouldn’t be held responsible for wrapping her hands around Mallory’s neck.
“Maybe it hurts too much to talk about her sister,” Fringe said, his eyes all glassy, tears ready to break free any second. Ava was starting to see why Mallory felt bad for him. What Ava couldn’t understand was why she was intentionally getting her in trouble.
Honor’s voice became distant, as if the words were coming to Ava through a large shell. “Stay after group, Ava. We need to talk.”
The back of her neck tingled with sweat. “I’m sorry I lied. Will I still be allowed to talk to my dad?” Ava hoped Honor couldn’t hear the B-flat that sailed out with her words, riding on the falseness in her voice.
Honor put her hand on Fringe’s arm, patting it once to reassure. That’s when Ava noticed him staring past her, zoning out. The kid was a wreck.
“Arthur, are you all right?” Honor asked. “Did Ava’s lying upset you?”
Fringe swallowed hard, as if whatever else he wanted to say was trapped in his throat. “Everything upsets me,” he said. “I’m not tough like the rest of you.” Tears ran a race down his cheeks. Wiping and wiping, he was no match for them.
“Being in this world hurts too much,” he said. “They tell me it would be better if —”
“You’re only sixteen,” Ava said. “Things won’t always be so bad.”
“Ava!”
“Sorry, I just think he’s too hard on himself —”
The bell rang, and collectively the group shuddered. No matter how many times a day those things clanged, instant panic showed up on all of the kids’ faces.
“Arthur, you and I have a one-on-one later today,” Honor said. “Are you comfortable continuing this conversation with me then?”
“Okay.” He took a deep breath and nodded.
“Ava, help me put back the chairs. Everyone else, follow Mallory to the mess hall.”
When Honor turned to open the screen door for the group, Ava gave Mallory a menacing look, one full of questions she wouldn’t be able to answer until tonight when they g
ot back to bunks.
As Fringe walked by, Ava wanted to tell him everything would be fine. Instead she gave him a pitiful smile that he didn’t return, and then he was gone with the rest of the group, walking single file down the path through the woods following Mallory.
Ava took the broom from the corner and started sweeping the porch. Honor shook the welcome mat outside the door. They moved in silence, putting the rocking chairs, which had been parked off to the side to allow the group to spread out, back in their therapy places. When everything was where it belonged, Honor pointed to a chair.
Ava sat.
“I don’t like what Mallory did,” Honor said. “I don’t abide throwing you under the bus. But there’s nothing that bothers me more than lying. Ava—you’re impulsive. You don’t think things through before you do them. Or say them.”
“I’m sorry about the workbook. I won’t do it again. I’d like to own up about losing it at the end of group. I experience that kid as needy, and sometimes scary. He’s so down on himself.”
“Arthur’s got a lot of problems, but you should spend a little more time worrying about your own. Leave him to me. I came to Mount Hope to help kids like him.”
Ava hesitated, trying to control her so-called impulsiveness.
“You can make this work. I’m living proof.”
It took a second for it to sink in. “You were a Seed?”
“Like lots of kids here, my family was dysfunctional. And like me, Arthur will be fine. Focus on your own issues.”
She couldn’t believe Honor had been here, imprisoned, and then came back of her own free will. And why was she telling her now? How come nobody gossiped about Honor having been a shirt? Ava tried to freeze her face, not blinking, not smiling. Honor had her all self-conscious about having no willpower. She wanted to pin Honor down, ask her if she’d lost her phone call, but it was like Honor read her mind.
“You made a mistake with the workbook. I take it you’ve learned your lesson. Don’t do it again. This time I won’t subtract points for your behavior in group. And I expect you to keep this conversation between us.”
Ava slapped her thighs and called out, “Thank you.”
“I’m warning you—learn to control your impulsive behavior.”
“I will. I promise.”
“You’ll be able to call home later today. Benno will come find you and bring you to Pax’s cabin.”
Honor got up and moved toward the door but not before Ava heard her stomach growling. Maybe even the counselors got hungry here. “There’s more. Good news.”
Ava braced herself, holding tight to the arms of her chair. Good news at Mount Hope wasn’t like good news anywhere else. Honor motioned for Ava to follow her out the door, down the path to the mess hall.
“Your father’s been assigned to the next parent session. He starts with a new group this weekend. I’m looking forward to talking to him about you.”
Ava’s stomach flipped upside down, but it wasn’t because she was hungry. She should’ve been happier that her dad was coming, that she could ask him her questions face-to-face. Make him finally tell Honor about Mom and Poppy.
The problem was, Ava’s tattoo story wasn’t the only thing she’d lied about. If her father got to read her workbook, he’d know that too.
Between now and the weekend, she had to find a way to destroy it.
NINE
Toby swallowed the last bite of half-sour pickle and tossed the crumpled deli wrapper into the wastebasket. He’d thought a working lunch, reading from the stack of requests for funding, would make the time until the call pass more quickly.
2:39.
2:40.
The long hand on the wall clock took its sweet time rounding the bend, heading toward three. Waiting twenty more minutes to hear Ava’s voice was going to put him over the edge. He’d never gone this long without talking to her. Reassuring phone calls from the program director once a week and two e-mail reports weren’t enough. He hadn’t spoken to Ava in a month.
For the first few weeks she was at Mount Hope, Toby tried to get around the system. He’d unsuccessfully challenged the no-contact rule, insisting that it would be better for their relationship if he could explain to his daughter why he’d sent her there, what he’d hoped she’d get out of it. It didn’t matter how many times the director listed the benefits of letting her experience the consequences of her behavior. Toby only backed down when the director convincingly wrote about how well Ava was doing, learning to rely on her own strength, facing her issues head-on.
There was nothing Toby wanted more than to know what those issues were exactly. He rummaged inside his desk drawer, reaching for the handful of letters she’d written him. It was the softened tone of the latest one that had convinced him maybe the director was right, perhaps the staff at Mount Hope knew what they were doing after all.
Dear Dad,
I’m writing to apologize for scaring you with all my craziness lately. When I disappeared that night, I should’ve known that, plus my freaking out all the time, didn’t just hurt me. I hurt you too. Trust me, I know now I should’ve come to you. Asked for help. I know you sent me here because you want the best for me, especially to keep me safe. I’m working hard with my counselor to own up and take responsibility for my actions. I’m working the program as hard as I can so I can come home. On schedule. Changed for the better.
This week, one of my assignments was to write about a place I was really happy, where I felt safe. Remember the summer house in Maine? I have the clearest picture of it in my mind. The pond out back with the little red canoe Poppy loved. Views of the Reach from every window. All those secret rooms upstairs, great for hide-and-seek. Mom’s poetry books lined up on the shelves in the sunroom. I remember one time she yelled at me for coloring inside her favorite collection. I really wish I hadn’t done that. I never meant to make her mad at me.
Anyway, maybe when I get out of here, we could get away from Wellesley for a while. Not to go there. I know you won’t want to go where there are too many memories of them. But another place. Where we’d have time to talk, you and me. We could do whatever we want, go wherever we want. My counselor says it’s a good idea to put some distance between me and my old ways, especially in the beginning. You can take time off, right? You are the boss.
Honor says—she’s the counselor I keep mentioning—I have a way with words. I’ll let you be the judge.
At the sound of the knock on his office door, Toby swept the letters off his desk into the drawer and closed it.
“I stopped in to wish you luck,” Jill said. “I’m happy to lend an ear when you’re through.”
“Thanks, I’ll see how things go.”
“Gosh, Toby, you look exhausted. Can I take you to dinner? Or if you’d rather, I could whip up something healthy at your house.”
“I’ve got to finish these,” he said, patting the stack of proposals.
“Sure thing. But really, there’s no need for you to stay late.” Jill walked over to his desk. After separating the pile in two, she handed him a few and took the rest. “I’ve already gone through them. I know you like to review everything, but I’ve flagged the only real contenders. You’ve got to take better care of yourself.”
There again, Jill was right. With Ava gone, he’d been working even longer days, only to toss and turn when he did hit the sack. He’d resolved to work out before heading to the office each day too. That had lasted all of two mornings.
Now his full stomach was putting pressure on his diaphragm, making it hard for him to breathe. He shouldn’t have eaten that huge sandwich before talking to Ava. Too late now. The pastrami was already leaching into his arteries.
The intercom buzzed, and Toby gave his secretary the go-ahead to put the call through.
“Good luck,” Jill said. Before she left, she caressed Toby’s left hand, letting hers linger over his ring finger.
Toby dismissed Jill with a wave of his hand and turned his attention to the call.<
br />
“Hello Mr. Sedgwick. I have your daughter here,” the director said. “What a terrific girl! Ava’s made a lot of progress this week. She could well move up another level if she keeps this up.”
“Wonderful, put her on,” Toby said. There was a pause, but no hum of noise in the background as the phone exchanged hands.
“Hi, Dad.”
Her voice was timid; it held not a single note of the enthusiasm he’d longed to hear. What a fool he’d been to think Ava would call to fill him in on what it was like at camp, all marshmallows and “Kumbaya.”
Elbow on his desk, he rested one hand on his forehead, covering his eyes. “How are you, honey? Everyone says you’re doing great.”
“I’m working. Owning up.”
“I miss you so much.”
“It’s hard—to miss anyone here. We’re so busy. It’s pretty—the mountains, I mean. I learned to make fire in time for our next overnight.”
“Good for you. When’s that?”
“Saturday.”
“Did anyone tell you I got into the next parent session? It’s this weekend. Took some finagling on my end. The director said they like kids to be further into the program. But I figured since you’re doing so well, I’d just as soon move things along.”
“Honor told me —” Ava’s tone was flat.
Toby would’ve given anything to see her face. To know if she was still mad at him for sending her there. If he saw her, he believed he would know.
“Maybe you should wait a few weeks,” Ava said, haltingly, filling the final space with what sounded like canned phrases pulled right out of the Mount Hope Wilderness Camp brochure. “The program works. Honor’s living proof.”
“There’s no reason you can’t come home early, you know,” Toby said. “We could go to that counselor I found in Boston. Or how about Maine? I would go there if you wanted to.”
Ava spoke so quietly, he could barely hear her. “That would be nice,” she said.
Toby heard the sound of a slap, louder than anything Ava had said during the entire phone call.
“Ouch!”
“What was that? You okay?”
Girl Sent Away Page 7