“Bees. Just a bee. I got stung. Pax’s cabin needs new screens,” Ava said, all panicky, her sentences a string of jumpy beats.
“Go to the nurse, okay? You’re allergic.”
“No, Dad,” Ava said with a sharp intake of breath. “That was Poppy.”
“Oh, God, honey, that’s right. I’m sorry.” Toby clenched his teeth and shook his head, as the sound of his missing daughter’s name sent shock waves through the phone line. “I knew that. I’m out of sorts with you gone, that’s all. Mixed up. You know?”
“I’ve got to go. There’s a ropes course I have to take.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Here’s Pax.”
“I’ll see you this weekend, okay?” Toby asked. But just like that, his daughter was gone. Eerily like before. No time for goodbyes. No “I love you”s floating on air.
“Mr. Sedgwick, as you can hear for yourself, your daughter’s doing well. Once again, I’d like to encourage you to postpone the parent component until Ava reaches a higher level. In fact, I propose you extend her stay here by at least a month. Perhaps two. She’s uncovering some very deep emotional pain in her sessions. These things take time.”
“I’ve talked to a lot of doctors over the years, and every single one told me kids are resilient. Ava was so little, most of what happened would remain a blur. Better not to keep dredging things up, they said. But if she’s remembering what happened to her mother and her sister, well, there are things I need to explain.”
“I’m going to agree with the other professionals you’ve spoken to. Ava was young, and memory at that age is unreliable. This is simply a case of a young woman needing to process being motherless. Using drugs and alcohol was her way of escaping feelings of loss.”
On some level, Toby wanted the director to be right. To tell him this was all normal, a stage Ava would successfully pass through. Toby needed to believe what everyone kept telling him so he wouldn’t have to go back there. Never again to revisit that beach.
The director made a good point. Ava had been dropping her mother into more conversations in the last few months than she had in the last eight years. Poppy, too. And then there was the tattoo.
“I assure you,” Pax said, “Ava is like the hundreds of other girls who come through our program every year. We believe in what we do here at Mount Hope. You can trust me.”
The director almost had him. He’d nearly convinced Toby to leave things to him. Until that one sentence—a mere handful of words—woke Toby up. She was just another kid to him. To Toby, Ava was the world. He might be a lousy father, one who didn’t know what the hell he was doing, but he could learn. He would learn.
“Where is the parent session taking place?” Toby asked. “I’m coming. This weekend.”
TEN
Walking back from Pax’s cabin after talking to her father, with Siamese twin Benno still attached to her hip, Ava entered the clearing. There Fringe was, standing off to one side. Alone. Everybody else was already paired up for the double-trouble rope challenge.
Could this day get any worse? First there was the nightmare where Ava blew her dad back against the concrete wall, and then Mallory nearly cost her the phone call by freezing her out in group. Ava tried not to think about Pax standing next to her in his cabin, his head beside hers, listening to her talk to her dad, one of his fingers tracing the length of her hair. Without saying a word, he told her with his eyes that he could cut it off at a moment’s notice.
Ava knew he would. She’d seen Mallory’s hair and nothing else could explain it.
Her father had sounded so close. Ava wanted to ask him why her memories were so messed up, why the things she remembered were so odd and unclear. But Pax wouldn’t take his threatening eyes off her. His hot breath fanned her cheek. All Ava wanted to do was beg her dad to hop in the car and come quick. Before she knew what she was doing, Ava told him, yes, she would go to Maine with him. Then Pax stomped on her foot and slapped her hand. His glare made it clear: lie, baby, lie. Mount Hope is the place you want to be.
Now, here she was, having to rely on Justice’s least favorite kid to pass low ropes—the boy with the bull’s-eye on his back.
“I’m lifting the level-to-level talking rule,” Justice said. “For this challenge only, you can speak to anyone you’re paired with. Don’t take advantage of my good nature. I find you talking about anything but how to cross that cable and it’ll cost you.” Justice looked right at Ava when he threatened them. He paced back and forth like a drill sergeant, flicking one rope and then the other every time he passed by. She wondered how many kids looked at those twisted braids hanging down from those trees and thought about putting them to better use.
Fringe motioned for Ava to come over to where he stood. He looked relieved to be on somebody’s team. If she had to put a number on how many times he’d been picked last for gym, she would’ve guessed a million.
“Benno, get on up. Let’s show them how it’s done.” Justice climbed the rungs built into the tree and stepped onto the cable. The line went from one tree to the other, strung tight. Leaning against his tree, holding a rope, Justice waited until Benno took the exact same position on the other side.
“Your goal is to make it to the middle, exchange ropes, and then work your way to the other person’s side. It can’t be done unless you work together.”
Justice tried to make it seem easy, but compared to Benno, he looked ancient trying to find his balance. Halfway to the middle, he teetered on the wire. His body swayed forward, then back. Ava would’ve bet every single kid there wished he would fall on his face. She was tempted to jiggle the line.
Benno made it to the middle before Justice. He hung out there, acting cool, waiting. The rope switch in the center was effortless, and in a few seconds, they were on opposite sides. Justice jumped down off the cable, a cloud of pine needles flying in all directions. Benno leaned against the tree waiting to see if a repeat demo would be required.
“It’s only four feet off the ground, but don’t be a lazy Seed. Work with your partner to stay on the line or I’ll make you do it again.”
Everyone crammed into the middle of the group. No one wanted to go after Justice and Benno. That’s when Ava noticed Mallory wasn’t there. She hated ropes even more than Ava did. How did she finagle getting out of it? Ava would’ve volunteered to do whatever dumb job Mallory got assigned. Clean the bunk room bathroom. Peel a boatload of potatoes. Anything to get out of doing this.
So of course Fringe and Ava had to go first.
“Take small sideways steps. Sideways steps. Until you get used to the give of the cable,” Fringe said, as he made his way on to the line. “If we move at the same speed, it won’t shake. It won’t shake as much.”
Ava was uncoordinated climbing the rungs to take her place opposite him. As he spoke, she realized he’d done this before. A Level One pro, Fringe had had the chance to do it over and over.
The cable was impossibly thin, and her hands, still swollen and filled with splinters, were burning within seconds of gripping the rope. Leaning against that tree, Ava willed herself to concentrate, but finding her balance was harder than she’d thought it would be. Tensing her upper arms, she wondered how exactly she would make it to the middle, never mind all the way to the other side. What Ava couldn’t have known until her feet were off the ground, her boots wobbling on the line, was that muscles held memory. As Ava stood between those two trees, images came like the waves once did.
The umbrella of feathered leaves shields me from the bright sun. My body is wet, cold, so very tired. My father pulls my arms from around his neck and forces me into those of a stranger. The lens of the man’s camera digs into my flesh. “Reaw-khao!” my dad shouts. “Hurry.”
“Ava,” Fringe shouted, his voice far away. “Don’t! Don’t look back.”
Her arms ached. Her heart boomed. She couldn’t take a deep breath, as if being smothered by a towel. Stop it. Stop, she chanted in her head. Don�
�t remember here. Not now with Justice watching.
“Focus on me,” Fringe said. “Not where you’ve been. Pay attention to where you’re going. Come on, do it with me. Step together. Step together.”
Only a few feet in front of her, Fringe wore a halo of fog. Ava forced herself to look at him, praying the freak-out would pass. God knows what would happen to her for “faking” it in the middle of ropes.
“Three more steps. Steady,” Fringe said, his voice getting clearer and more confident each time he spoke. “Keep going. Good. We’re doing it.”
Ava wanted to rush toward his bright orange shirt, but her hands were glued to the rope.
“We’re almost there. When we get to the middle, don’t hold on to me or we’ll fall.”
Fringe was in charge, and she could tell he knew what he was doing.
“I won’t take you down,” she said.
Halfway there, standing in midair, Ava suddenly felt like she could do it. After they exchanged ropes, it was clear they were each going to make it to the other side without falling.
Fringe jumped down, falling on his knees. Scrambling up, he came over to Ava’s side, offering his hand like some kind of knight. She’d made it because of him and she was grateful, but that didn’t mean any part of her wanted an alliance. Especially not after what Mallory did to her. Ava climbed down on her own and went to the end of the line.
Kids took turns completing the challenge while she stood there going back over the memory of her dad abandoning her to a stranger.
For the rest of the afternoon, through dinner, right up until The Circle, Ava kept replaying what she’d remembered during the ropes challenge. The more she tried to recall what came before it, the hazier things got.
When Ava had her dad on the phone, why didn’t she scream, “Get me out of here, I’m a prisoner!” Even if Pax had hit her upside the head and punched her in the stomach, it would’ve been worth it. Her dad would be here now. He could mix her up with her sister all he wanted, as long as by the time The Circle was over, Ava was asleep in the passenger seat of his car heading as far away from this place as he was willing to take her.
Ava stopped worrying about herself when she got to the fire pit and there was no sign of Fringe. He hadn’t been at dinner either. Where could he have gone between ropes and The Circle?
All the counselors were there. Two groups of kids too. Mallory was directly across from Ava with her head down; she wouldn’t look over at her. Couldn’t face her. Well, she wouldn’t be able to avoid Ava once they got back to the bunkhouse.
No thanks to Mallory, Ava finally got her red shirt, and so did two other kids from their group. It didn’t feel as great as she thought it would. After having heard her dad’s voice, Ava could admit she missed him. And she was worried too. What if he came to the parent weekend and Pax convinced him not to take her home?
When everyone got up to head back to the bunks, Ava overheard Benno whisper to the kid next to him that Fringe was in OP. She wanted to ask what that was, but Honor glared at him. She flashed the fingers of one hand twice, which meant Benno had lost ten points. Which meant OP had to be bad.
It didn’t matter what level Ava was, or the color of the shirt on her back, someone was always there to remind her that she still couldn’t talk when she wanted to. Lining up to go back to the bunkhouse, and the whole way up the path, being careful not to trip over tree roots and rogue stones, Ava practiced what she’d say to Mallory. As much as she wanted to blast her roommate for what she did in group that morning, she wanted to know about Fringe.
Outside the bunkhouse, one by one, each kid took off her boots. Ava handed hers to Justice, and he gave her back her workbook.
“Too bad I ain’t got me a strawberry daiquiri,” he said under his breath, fingering his chest in a gross way. Ava threw up in her mouth when she took the workbook from him. The slimy feel of the cover had reminded her that Justice could read it whenever he wanted.
It didn’t matter where Ava was—the bathroom, the bunk room—the sound of that metal bolt sliding over the door echoed through the whole building. A numb feeling started in her head and raced through her body, landing at the bottoms of her bootless feet. Ava hummed a song she’d written, so softly no one could hear her. It didn’t help.
Cheez, Mallory, and Ava were alone in their bunk room with more freedom than they’d had all day, and no one said a word.
Before scooching under her blanket, Ava yanked a corner free to scrub the cover of the workbook. She wanted any trace of Justice off it, every single fingerprint gone.
Cheez took forever to climb into her bunk. Once she hoisted her body up there, she kept shifting side to side. She straightened out her covers. Fluffed her pancake of a pillow. Ava was running out of patience waiting for her to fall asleep. Watch, this would be the night she’d decide to write in her workbook. But within five minutes, the squeaking stopped and she was pretty sure Cheez was asleep. Ava looked over at Mallory. The girl turned her face toward her in slow motion. They locked eyes. One finger to her lips, Mallory signaled for Ava to come to her side.
Inching out of her bunk, Ava looked up to make sure Cheez was deep-breathing. Like a slow-motion version of hopscotch, avoiding the creaky spots on their floor, she made her way toward Mallory’s cot.
Mallory sat cross-legged at the head of her bed. Ava did the same at the foot, still holding her workbook. The only thing missing from this cozy camp scene was everything.
“I didn’t know he was going to say anything about killing himself,” Mallory whispered.
“What are you talking about?”
“Arthur said something to Honor about how maybe it would be better if he weren’t around. You know, not wanting to live.”
“That’s not what he meant. His life sucks. He’s a mess like the rest of us.”
As soon as she’d said like the rest of us, Ava wanted to take it back. No one was more miserable than Fringe. And big surprise, telling the truth didn’t get him any help, it just got him into some kind of trouble.
“That’s not what Honor thought after their one-on-one,” Mallory said, scratching the back of her neck. “She took it up with Pax, and tried to get him transferred out. Next thing, before The Circle starts, Benno’s carting him off to OP.”
“What the hell is OP?” Ava fanned the pages of her workbook.
On the page with the assignment she’d read that morning at girls’ group, the words strawberry and daiquiri were underlined, but not by Ava.
“Observation Placement,” Mallory said. “You know, like solitary confinement in jail. The quiet room in a mental hospital.” She made a circle next to her ear like Fringe was nuts.
“I’m not so sure he’s crazy.” Ava thought back to him on low ropes, capable, confident even. She was starting to think the kid was just plain strange. Or maybe like everyone else around here, he was sly. “Honor says we should focus on our own problems. She’ll look out for him —”
“How many times do I have to tell you, he’s sick. Now they’ve put him in a goddamn box. Would you want Justice or any other creep counselor watching you more than they already do? Benno told me they take your clothes. And you’re not allowed to eat. What are you now, Honor’s best friend?”
“She was nice to me. Didn’t take away points after you sabotaged me.” Ava slammed her workbook shut. Mallory put her finger to her lips again and looked over at Cheez, who’d stopped snoring in her top bunk. Neither girl moved or spoke for what seemed like forever. Relax, Ava told herself. Cheez is asleep. Ava could tell. She’d been listening to her breathe for thirty-two nights.
“Look, I’m not perfect,” Mallory said, finally. “I might be ahead of you level-wise, but I don’t know everything. Yesterday before group, Honor accused me of playing favorites, so I needed to show her I’m not into alliances. I wasn’t trying to screw you. I figured you’d only lose a few points for the tattoo thing, not enough to make a difference. I never meant for Arthur to get freaked out by it and la
nd in OP.”
Mallory told a good story, but Ava didn’t believe her. “Yeah, well, when are you going to tell me your plan for getting us out —”
“Shhhh.”
Mallory picked up Ava’s workbook and put her hand out for the pencil, a stub of a thing with no eraser, the kind people use to keep score at mini-golf. Ava could barely write with it, never mind figure out how to hurt herself with it. But some kid who came before must’ve tried death by full-size pencil, so now the rest of them had to write with cramped fingers.
“No way,” Ava said, grabbing her workbook. “You’re not writing anything in here. Justice reads mine, probably every damn day.”
If Fringe knew the counselors read their workbooks, then Mallory had to know it too.
“I’ll rip out a page.”
“Are you kidding? That’ll put me back to the beginning. I thought I could trust you.”
“You can. I have an idea.”
Cheez rolled over, the bedsprings screeching. “Will you two shut it?” she hissed. “The only thing I look forward to around here is sleep. Keep it up and I’ll tell Justice you’re planning shit. You’ll be locked up in OP before breakfast.”
Squeak, sigh, squeak. Cheez heaved her body onto her other side, her face to the wall. Ava scrambled back to her bunk, hitting every whiny floorboard on the way. Mallory waved her hands to get her attention and then pointed to her mattress. She smoothed out the wrinkles on her blanket and started to spell on cotton.
Forget it, Ava mouthed, fighting with her blanket, covering her eyes with her pillow.
Trying to express yourself in a wilderness therapy camp shouldn’t have been so impossible. Or dangerous. Fringe got locked up for saying he was depressed. Cheez was threatening them with OP. And since counting on her dad was a wild card, that left Ava with only erratic Mallory to trust. Her bad luck.
ELEVEN
Toby’s GPS had him driving in circles. Shouting back at “the voice” wasn’t moving him any closer to Mount Hope. When he couldn’t listen to her say the word recalculating one more time, he pulled over to the shoulder and reached in back to dig through his bag for the directions.
Girl Sent Away Page 8