“I trust you to be responsible,” Honor said. “It’s time for you to walk on your own.”
In the time it took to work through the bramble, heading toward the lodge, Honor didn’t say anything. She focused on Fringe. Three times, Ava almost asked her about Mallory, but every time she was about to, Fringe glared at her, and Ava was afraid to set him off.
Benno was waiting at the bottom of the hill where the path forked. If Honor said it was okay for Ava to walk alone, then why was he here?
When Fringe started dragging his feet, making tracks in the dirt, Benno ran up to grab one of his arms. Honor took her fingers from his waistband and took hold of his other arm. “Arthur’s going to be fine. He needs some quiet time and a few extra one-on-ones to sort out—the incident,” Honor said, patting Fringe’s back as he cried, “No, no.”
Ava stood there on her side of the path, trying to make sense of things.
“I’m sorry,” Honor said to her. “I should have believed you.”
Honor and Benno were aiming Fringe down a trail that led to a low building attached to the far end of the lodge. Ava didn’t get what they wanted her to do. Was she supposed to follow them or not?
“Go on,” Honor said. “Your father’s inside.”
If Justice had been standing there, Ava would’ve known the whole thing was a trick. She saw her father leave with her own eyes. Inching toward the lobby, Ava figured this might be some kind of sick game. Another Mount Hope life-lesson wrapped in persecution. But as stunned as she was that Honor came here as a Seed, then decided to work here, Ava knew she wasn’t cruel. It was hard to understand how she could, but Ava knew Honor believed what she was doing was good.
“There she is,” Pax said, clutching a stack of workbooks and papers against his chest, standing in the middle of the lobby. Right next to her father. Two other people Ava didn’t know stood there too. One of them was a cop.
Something hot bubbled up inside Ava, a soup of anger and fear. It was a trap. She wasn’t going home. She was going to jail for killing Mallory. Pax would make sure no one believed her when she told them Mallory had done it to herself. Ava started to back up, one step, then another. She was startled when the screen door hit her in the back, even though she’d just come through it.
“Ava, come here,” Pax said as an order. “Officers, it’s like I said. At Mount Hope, you can expect full cooperation.”
Wiping her sweaty palms on her khakis, Ava looked around the lodge for an out. She was good at scoping places out without turning her head. Feeling lighter than she had for over a month, it was odd being this close to an open door without someone else’s hands on her. The policewoman was shorter than Ava, but had Honor’s build. No doubt she would catch her even if Ava had a head start.
Where would she go anyway? Ava had no idea where she was or how far the lodge was from a main road. Her mind was spinning. Her heart racing. Pax hightailed it over to her, pinching her arm as he walked Ava toward the officers. Before she knew it, her dad was next to her too, standing on her other side.
“Take your hands off my daughter,” he said to Pax. Then he whispered to Ava, “It’s over.”
“I didn’t do anything,” Ava said. “I don’t want to —”
“I talked to a lawyer,” her father said. “Stay calm, I’ll get you out.”
He touched her arm, attempting to reassure. As if his hand were on fire, Ava drew back from it. He got this look on his face like she’d said out loud that she hated him. Which in that moment, Ava kind of did. Mixed up didn’t begin to describe how she felt about him. Was he just going to hand her over to police without asking what happened?
Then he walked away from her, and like a five-year-old, Ava grabbed his jacket.
“It’s okay,” he said, lifting her chin. “I’m just getting my stuff.” He pointed to his bags piled at the bottom of the stairs. “Come, walk with me.”
Gently, he slipped his hand in hers, and this time, Ava didn’t fight it. The heat from his touch felt familiar, good.
Her dad got his bags, and they started walking toward the door to the parking lot.
“It’ll be okay,” he said. “I’m parked right at the edge of the lot.”
Her dad kept shooting the breeze, the way he did when she was little and woke up from a bad dream. The Ava of a month ago would’ve told him to stop babying her.
Trench Coat Guy and the cop stayed put, talking to Pax. If Ava was in such big trouble, why were they letting her go? This was all so confusing.
They were almost out of the place when Trench Coat Guy called to them. Ava turned to see him step away from Pax.
“Before you go, can I ask you a couple of questions?” He flipped open a small notepad and pulled a pen from behind his ear. “I’m Detective Reilly. You know a student here by the name of Mallory Vincent?”
Ava’s throat closed over. Even if she knew what to say, she was pretty sure nothing would come out. Pax gave her one of his stares from a distance, saying, don’t you dare. Millions of times, she’d wanted to tell Pax to shut it. This time, she had to admit, she wanted him to start talking. No one had given Ava this script in advance.
The detective looked up from his notepad and waited.
The pressure was on.
So, Ava showed everyone how well she’d learned the central Mount Hope life lesson: lie.
“I saw her around,” she said. “But my job was to work the program. Focus on my own problems.”
“So you weren’t there, then? On the overnight trip?”
“I went on the hike, but I didn’t see anything.”
Pax was a pro at reading lips. From across the room, he pretended to be shuffling the papers he carried, but not before Ava saw that sicko grin he wore when he knew he had someone beat.
Detective Reilly pulled two business cards out of his wallet. He handed them to her dad, along with his pen.
“Keep one of these and write a number where I can reach you on the other. In case I have more questions.”
Her father let go of her hand so he could write on the back of the detective’s card.
This might be Ava’s last chance to find out about Mallory. Everyone was acting like she already knew.
Pax walked toward her. He read Ava again; he knew she was about to go for it.
“You don’t want to leave without this,” he said, pulling the dirty, tattered workbook from the collection of things he held. “I’m sure you’ll want to exercise the same discipline at home. And Mr. Sedgwick, if we can support you in any way, if you feel that Ava could benefit from re-enrolling, don’t hesitate to be in touch.”
Pax gave Ava quite the send-off, offering up the workbook while at the same time making sure she understood. What happens at Mount Hope stays at Mount Hope. He didn’t want her talking to her father about Mallory or anything else. Ava could’ve told Pax not to worry. Thanks to him, it was going to be a while before she opened up to anyone.
Her dad tucked Detective Reilly’s business card in his shirt pocket. “Let’s go,” he said.
Ava tried to keep calm, politely taking the workbook from Pax. She stayed right by her father, afraid to leave more than a few inches between them.
Through the lobby. Out the screen door. Onto the porch. Down the steps. Across the brick walkway. Past the pine grove, bordering the lake.
The closer she got to the car, the more disconnected she felt from everything and everyone. Was she actually leaving? Ava never felt her feet on the ground. The passenger door opened, no problem. Her dad put his things in the backseat. She got in on her side in silence.
Then he was in, his door closed too. Key in the ignition. Car in reverse. They were driving. It felt like flying. Ava kept looking back, but there wasn’t a single person on the porch. No one was going to stop them.
“You okay?” her dad asked.
All she could do was nod. When Ava looked down, she saw two hands in her lap. They didn’t appear to belong to her, but they were gripping that stupid work
book.
Now that Pax couldn’t see her, Ava told herself she could do it. She rolled down the window and starting tearing pages from the binding.
Watching the wind take her lies wherever they wanted to go, Ava felt the weight of Mount Hope start to come off her.
“Stop the car,” she screamed, pointing ahead. “Let me out by the stream. Keep it running.”
Her father looked like he was afraid of her, but all he said was “Okay.”
When the car came to a stop, Ava got out and climbed over the guardrail. As close to the edge of the water as she could muster the courage to go, she closed her eyes and called up an image of the bunk room. Ava let it go. Then she let go of the Learning Center. The fire pit. And finally, the Ledges. She would not take a single thing from this horrible place. Her mind was a mess as it was.
When flashes of Mallory and Fringe pushed their way in, she whispered goodbye and I’m sorry. Then, with as much power as Ava could call up, she hurled the workbook. It ricocheted off a cluster of rocks, sliding into the current. This time she’d done it right. One second it was there, the next it disappeared. Ava shook her head to loosen everything she could recall of Pax and Justice, even Honor. She heard her father gasp behind her when she pulled the yellow shirt from her body and let it drop on the surface of a swirling pool. Ava watched the water absorb its color, though it made no move to sink it. Standing there, cold, wearing only a tank top, goose bumps sprang to life all over her arms. Then she felt her father’s jacket go over her shoulders, warming her.
Without resistance, she slipped her arms into the sleeves, wrapping the leather blanket around her as her father guided her to the car.
EIGHTEEN
Toby saw the red and white bull’s-eye from the expressway in time to pull off the exit and into the Target parking lot. In one stop, he could get everything he needed to stock the house in Maine. After all that had happened back at Mount Hope, he wasn’t up for multiple errands. He knew Ava wouldn’t be either.
She’d been asleep for nearly the entire ride. He didn’t know how teenagers did that, curled up in the most uncomfortable positions. Didn’t she have to go to the bathroom? Or ever get hungry?
“Honey,” he said, gently touching her shoulder through his leather jacket.
She jerked awake, putting her hands out in front of her like she was going to hit something or someone. He could tell it took her a second to realize where she was, to recognize him.
“I’m going to grab a few things. It won’t take long.”
Ava didn’t say anything.
“You could come. Use the restroom.”
“I’m fine.”
That was it? His daughter had been in the car with him for hours and all she could come up with was I’m fine? Maybe she really hadn’t wanted to leave. Toby thought the change of scene, going to their house above the Reach in Blue Hill to set things right between them, was a good idea. After all, Ava had written so fondly of their summer home in one of her letters. Sitting there now, seeing his daughter turn her body toward the window, her back to him, he wondered if his plan to bring her to a place packed with memories wasn’t potentially a colossal disaster.
He reached into the backseat, unzipped his duffel bag, and rolled out a pin-striped oxford. “I’ll leave this here in case you change your mind. If you want, meet me inside. Or when I’m done, we can ask how far out of the way it is to better stores.”
Ava remained silent, her eyes closed tight against him. Toby laid the shirt that could’ve fit three of her over the back of her seat.
At the entrance to the store, he wrestled a large cart from the corral and shimmied it through the automatic doors. Buttery popcorn invited him inside. Wheeling the carriage by the promotional aisle where pallets of ticketed sale items were stacked, Toby grabbed a box of Wheat Thins. These would tide him over till he and Ava got at least as far as Bucksport.
Up one aisle, down the next, he filled his cart. Aside from last month’s out-of-the-blue phone call from the caretaker about a leaky pipe, Toby hadn’t really thought much about the place in a while. Now certain items went into the cart without a moment’s hesitation. Things they’d need there came back to him automatically. Paper towels, aluminum foil, scissors, tape, a pad of paper, a pack of pens. Other things, specifically for Ava, took longer to choose.
In the women’s clothing department, Toby pulled a pair of pants off a shelf. Even before he’d unfolded them, he knew they’d be too big on his daughter.
Toby addressed a large woman wearing a red vest and an employee name tag: Janine. Her job was to refold the merchandise that customers were too lazy to put back on the shelves. “I’m a little out of my element,” he said to her, “trying to pick out a pair of jeans for my daughter.”
“What size is she?” she asked without looking up.
“Gosh, I don’t know. She’s sixteen, around five-seven. Rail thin.”
“You want Juniors. Come with me.”
Janine trudged around the corner, not looking to see if Toby followed. When they arrived in the right section, Toby had even more doubts. Ava wouldn’t like all this pink. Everything on these racks was covered in sparkles. No way was he up to the task of picking out clothes.
“You can’t go wrong with these,” Janine said, reading his expression, handing him a pair of straight-legged jeans. “Plus they come with a belt.”
Toby went with the jeans, choosing two different sizes to be on the safe side. He tossed a package of colored Tshirts into the cart. No, wait, Ava wouldn’t want those. Remembering how awful it had been to watch her rip off the Mount Hope shirt by the stream, Toby fought back tears. Wearing only a child’s undershirt, the bones of her shoulders pushing the limits of her pink skin, it was like Ava was trying to rid herself of the place.
Toby knew Mount Hope was the wrong place for his daughter, but what made him so sure that taking her to the Maine house was the right thing to do? There was that sick feeling roiling around his stomach again. He’d been in the store too long. He needed to get back to her.
Off the racks and into his cart, he threw two plain white Tshirts and a navy blue sweatshirt—the kind that zipped, not the over-the-head Mount Hope kind.
Standing in line at the register, the person in front of Toby nearly finished, he saw Ava wearing his huge shirt, her braid trailing down her back. He recognized her immediately; so tiny was she from a distance. Ava sat at a table in a place the store labeled Target Café. When she noticed him, she offered a halfhearted wave. Toby had hope then, that she might actually have been looking for him. He pointed to his cart and then to the register, telling Ava he was almost through.
“Sorry it took so long,” he said maneuvering his way through the food court. Toby put his bags down on an empty chair before sitting down next to Ava. “I bought you some clothes. If you’d rather, I can return them and we could ask someone for directions to a mall. Though I’ve got to say, we’re kind of in the boondocks —”
“That’s ok. I don’t want to go shopping.”
“Well, here then,” he said, handing her one of the bags. “You go change. I’ll order us a couple of slices. You must be starving.”
When Ava was gone a long time, Toby began to wonder if he should leave their food to go find Janine. She wouldn’t mind sticking her head into the ladies’ room to see if Ava was okay.
As he debated what to do, Ava came out of the restroom. He did a double take and his hand came down on the table tipping over his Pepsi, the plastic lid popping off, spraying soda everywhere. Disregarding the spill, Toby gripped the edge of the table, steadying himself.
Ava’s braid was gone. Her hair chopped off at her shoulders, wedged and uneven, was a drastic change. Not the work of a girl having a little fun with her appearance or copying the latest celebrity ’do. Toby held his breath so long he started to get dizzy. He could feel his heart pounding when he remembered the girl. Ava’s do-it-yourself haircut looked exactly like Mallory’s.
Dear God, wha
t had he done, sending Ava there? And now taking her out?
His daughter acted as if nothing were wrong, handing him the bag filled with assorted items, a tube of toothpaste, the scissors he’d been stupid enough to buy so she wouldn’t have difficulty ripping out tags. The new jeans were baggy, rolled up several inches at the bottom. The sweatshirt, also oversize, made Ava look like she was playing dress-up—a child in a grown-up’s guise.
Ava sat down, and with a wad of napkins pulled from the stainless-steel dispenser, she started mopping up Toby’s spill, her movements robotic.
“Honey, maybe Maine isn’t the best idea. What would you think about going —”
She stopped her father speaking by gripping his forearm, digging her nails into his skin. “I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you say. I don’t want to go back there. And I don’t want to go home to Wellesley.”
“Okay. All right. We can go to Maine. But you have to talk to me.”
Ava tipped her head back and sighed.
Go slow, Toby thought. Take your cues from your child.
His hands trembled as he dug through the bag parked next to him. He placed a blank journal down on the table. Ava stared at it. He couldn’t tell if she remembered its significance. Did his girl know how hard it was for him to choose this way of reaching out?
“I loved the lyrics you wrote in your workbook. And the memories of Mom and Poppy.” Toby slid it over in front of her. “But in this one only the truth. Okay?”
Ava ran her hand over the orange fabric cover, up the ivy vine dotted with turquoise flowers. Toby walked two fingers over to her across the table. It was a game they’d played when she was little. He’d tease her, making her think he was going to swipe her special book. She’d giggle, pulling away from him, holding the treasure close to her chest, proud of herself for winning, for keeping the thing for herself.
With the lightest touch Toby could manage, he placed his hand on hers, resting on top of a journal stitched with a combination of two sisters’ favorite colors.
And for a moment, Ava let it stay there.
Girl Sent Away Page 13