Last Girls

by Demetra Brodsky

  I suppress a groan. Keeping my exasperation in check is becoming harder knowing Birdie misplaced her EDC. We carry things most people would find strange if not suspicious. A LifeStraw, Swiss Army knife, compass, glow stick, pepper spray, a lighter, carabineers and paracord, cash, along with the normal stuff for school like notebooks, pens, pencils. And yes, Kevlar. There’s been twenty-three school shootings in America this year with no sign of slowing since our POTUS doesn’t seem capable of thinking logically about anyone’s safety but his own.

  “I went to help Daniel,” Birdie says, peering at me this time. “He told me they were going to create a distraction so Ansel could sneak into a chemistry supply closet and get something for his dad. They called it a level one civilian interaction training mission.”

  “What kind of something? I’ve never heard of Dieter sending anyone on an off-site mission like this before—in broad daylight. What kind of distraction required the whole school getting put on lockdown?”

  “I don’t know,” Birdie answers.

  “You don’t know?” I explode. “Birdie, you were there.” Backing Birdie into a cage never goes well, but my brain might be the next thing to detonate if she keeps lying.

  “Stop yelling at her,” Blue says, throwing me an exasperated look.

  I take a breath in through my nose and wait impatiently for Birdie to explain why on earth she would keep this mission from us.

  “I was there, but everything happened so fast. We were on the roof and Annalise got in my face before everything went down. I didn’t think—I don’t know, exactly. But I remember Annalise grabbing my chin and blowing on my face, telling me to relax. Next thing I knew, I was at the edge of the roof, Daniel was shaking my arm telling me to run and hide. My adrenaline must have gone haywire, because I did what he told me to do without question. So maybe, in that moment, he grabbed my EDC.”

  “But you don’t know for sure.”

  Birdie shakes her head and I want to scream, Bullshit.

  Annalise is always doing stuff that’s out of the range of normal, even for someone from The Nest. And I understand how things can happen fast. That’s why we train, but—

  “Why were you and Annalise there in the first place? And why would Daniel Dobbs take your EDC?”

  Birdie avoids my eyes. “Maybe because it had some of the flash-bang grenades we made for the distraction inside it.”

  “What the actual hell, Birdie?” My patience evaporates. “That’s why you were freaking out over finding your EDC this morning?”

  “Oh boy,” Blue says. “This could be bad.”

  “Bad doesn’t come close. What were you doing with flash-bang grenades?” My voice pitches higher as my patience wanes again. “You just go along with whatever Daniel Dobbs says to do now without thinking? Is that what you were doing when you snuck out?”

  She nods.

  “Are you stupid? Blue and I heard the cops say they caught someone. If it was Daniel and he has your EDC, there’s not much we can do. You didn’t involve us from the beginning. What’s done is done.”

  Birdie visibly shudders. “Maybe they caught someone else. Ansel was there. Annalise. Connor.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You don’t know what happened after you ran. If any of them got caught with your EDC then you’re implicated in having explosives at school. ABAO.”

  All Bets Are Off.

  “Shit.”

  Yeah. Shit, Birdie.

  She opens her mouth to plead her case again and I hold up a hand to silence her. “Shut up and let me think.”

  This is one of those moments where I wish Bucky were a real person so I could ask him what he thinks. That’s another problem with confiding in an imaginary friend. He’s imaginary and I’m jumping to conclusions. But Birdie is real and she’s right here, visibly tormented. Even if she is lying through her teeth, she’s my middle. She needs me to help her navigate through whatever she got us into. When it comes to my sisters and me there is no her or she. It’s always us and we.

  The whole mission makes zero sense. If Dieter sent the Burrow Boys on an off-site training assignment without telling anyone, why would he send Annalise with them? She’s a Nester, like us. If Mother learns Birdie went along, too, a whole different kind of shit will hit the fan at home. To say nothing of the reaction Birdie might get from Dieter. I don’t know what kind of trouble any of them will face back at the compound.

  I vaguely remember Camilla’s brother Connor getting in trouble when we first arrived. I can’t recall the circumstances since everything was so new at the time, only that he was made to stay inside a bunker for several weeks. That scared us, considering we hadn’t seen the inside of a bunker yet. It’s one thing to live and train on the compound and be sent out on assignments. It’s another thing to do that when you’re Dieter Ackerman’s kids or his ward, like Daniel. That alone might get them some leniency. But we’ve never seen what happens to Nesters that get caught doing something reckless, because my sisters and I never act without thinking. We follow the rules and stick to Nest business. Strike that. Blue and I follow the rules. But Birdie knows better. She’s trained for how to react to outside threats, so I don’t get what the hell she was doing going along with the Burrow Boys. Not to mention lying to us about being in shock to the point of memory loss.

  “You never answered me when I asked if Dieter told you it was okay to go along with them?”

  She shakes her head again and I want to wring her neck.

  “What about Annalise?”

  “I don’t know. She showed up later than the rest of us with Connor.”

  Sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong isn’t unusual for Annalise, either. But being sent on a mission with the Burrow Boys, if she was in fact sent, is off normal protocol.

  “Dieter and Mother will be livid if they find out you went without their authority. No matter what happened or happens, we have to deny involvement to the authorities. That’s the compound rule. Since we all know Annalise is too slippery a snake to get caught doing anything, it was probably one of the boys.”

  “Daniel won’t snitch,” she says. “Even if he’s the one that got caught.”

  “On you or the compound?” I’m so mad I don’t wait for her to answer. “We have no idea what they found or what disciplinary action they’ll take. We have to wait and assess the situation. Stand up and take your vests off, both of you. I’m gonna put my EDC, and Blue’s, inside a gym locker so we can get out of here without drawing attention to ourselves. We can come get them in the morning.”

  Birdie stands without question, conceding to me for once.

  “Why can’t I put mine in my own locker?” Blue asks.

  “Because I want them both in one place for now. I’m not putting them in my gym locker. I’m putting them in a gym locker. My whole class saw me crawl into an air shaft, so I’m gonna be on everyone’s radar no matter what. If they have Birdie’s EDC, and put two and two together, they’re bound to come up with three as their answer.” I point to each of us. “One, two, three.”

  What I don’t say is if the school or cops decide to do a locker search and they end up with all three of our bags, you can imagine what they’ll think. The notebooks, pens, and pencils in there won’t be enough of what’s considered normal school supplies to shake them off the scent.

  I pull a combination lock out of my EDC and pick an empty locker. Blue takes off her vest and hands everything over. Birdie does the same, only she doesn’t let go when she hands me her vest, to make sure I’ll look at her.

  “I honestly don’t remember everything that happened.”

  She’s chewing her middle fingernail so hard her nose is being pushed up by her other knuckles. If she keeps that up she’ll have nothing but bloody nubs by the time we get home. My own gnawing comes from deep inside my stomach. I want to believe her. This is the first time I’ve had to question why my sister would lie to me, us.

  I don’t know how to respond, so I turn on one of the sink t
aps and splash cold water on my face, rinsing away the dust and dirt from the air shaft.

  Gone is the good mirror day. Replaced by shadowy worry, seeping into my eyes from the walls of the dim locker room and Birdie’s all-consuming, gray uncertainty. Blue hands me a stretch of scratchy, unbleached paper towels to dry my hands like a surgeon before lobbing them into the trash can.

  “Let’s go find out what’s happening,” I tell them. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and Daniel will be outside with everyone else.”

  “He’s not,” Blue says. And her tone is so conclusive neither of us argues.

  CYA

  COVER YOUR ASSETS

  MY SISTERS AND I slip outside and around the building to the front silently and without incident. I size up the situation. There’s a news truck across the street, four police cruisers parked at the curb in front, plus a dark sedan with tinted windows that has all the makings of an unmarked vehicle. The news truck troubles me the most. Avoid unnecessary speculation is another rule of our coalition.

  We do our best to merge into the background. Hanging close together in a tight triangle while shifting our eyes and ears to the chatter of students milling around, still abuzz with speculation. I pick out relevant pieces of their conversations: the lockdown was lifted but they called parents, the school day is over, everyone can go home. But a lot of people are still milling around, talking, acting like lookie-loos, trying to get the scoop, including us. The more we know, the easier it will be to tell Mother and Dieter what happened.

  After a few minutes, our natural defensive vibe relaxes and our shoulders unhunch. If it weren’t for the anxious flit of Birdie’s eyes I’d almost believe the situation isn’t as bad as we thought. But then the all-day drizzle turns to rain, and as the drops prick my cheeks like liquified pine needles, I remember we have to go back home. The rain will add insult to injury with Mother if we’re late and she can’t reach us.

  Blue crosses her arms. “I wish I had the rain poncho in my EDC.”

  “Me, too. Do you see anyone from The Nest or The Burrow? Ansel, Annalise?” I whisper. “I’d love to talk to one of them before we leave.”

  Blue is the only one facing the other students. She’s also the shortest. I realize I’m blocking her sight line and take a small step to the side.

  “No one,” she says. “Maybe they all left.”

  That is the second part of our protocol. Return to The Nest.

  “Wait. There is someone,” Blue says, “standing at two o’clock from my perspective, taking pictures. Of us, I think.”

  “A reporter?”

  “No. A student.”

  I whip around, and sure enough, Rémy Lamar has his camera pointed right at me. He’s using a telephoto zoom lens to capture me, us, up close. What is his fascination with trying to get pictures of me?

  “I’ve had enough,” I tell my sisters. “I’ll be right back.”

  They have no idea what that means, but it doesn’t matter. I told him to stop once today, and I’m going to tell him again. Only this time, I won’t bother explaining why.

  Engage with target.

  “Birdie Juniper!” Ms. Pennick’s unmistakable shrill tone stops me from taking another step toward Rémy. But when our eyes meet, and he sees the fury in mine, he lowers his camera.

  I turn and see Birdie’s PE teacher headed straight for her, clipboard firmly grasped in her hand, arms pumping so fast breaking into a run would make her gait seem less precarious. The stopwatch she always wears around her neck on a black lanyard is swinging, bouncing off her ribs in a way that looks downright painful.

  THREAT ASSESSMENT:

  PAULA PENNICK|5’8” AVERAGE TO OVERWEIGHT BUILD|CLOSED SOCIAL GROUP|TRUSTING

  MOST LIKELY TO: throw darts at pictures of people she dislikes in the privacy of her own home.

  LEAST LIKELY TO: be nominated for teacher of the year.

  7/10 WOULD IMPEDE GROUP SURVIVAL IN AN EMERGENCY SITUATION.

  CASUALTY POTENTIAL: high

  Birdie turns her head and gapes at me wide-eyed. It only lasts a heartbeat before she closes them, pulls herself together, and swivels to respond to Pen-cap with a sheepish grin.

  “Hi, Ms. Pennick. Were you looking for me?”

  I’m always amazed by Birdie’s ability to play it cool when the situation is hot, but I’m extra impressed now, given the unnerved state she was in when we found her in the locker room.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact,” Ms. Pennick says. “I’m finding it oddly curious you requested a bathroom pass minutes before Daniel Dobbs was caught pulling his little prank. You hang around with him, don’t you?”

  My pulse starts ticking like a time bomb when she confirms our fear. I trust for the most part that every Nester and Burrower will follow the same close-lipped protocol, but I can’t account for how anyone might react under individualized pressure. Especially Daniel. His parents died during one of Dieter’s missions, a year or more before we got here. I don’t know what he was like before, but the Daniel we know vacillates between gung-ho, I’ll-do-whatever-Dieter-Ackerman-says, and swoony, let’s-hang-out-in-the-barn-until-sunrise with my sister. That’s too unpredictable to bet on at a time like this.

  I hold my breath, waiting for Birdie to panic and crack with the news. But she doesn’t.

  “I was hiding in the bathroom,” she says. Shoulders squared, maintaining her innocence.

  Pen-cap flicks leery gray eyes over us, starting with Birdie and ending with me. The way you might study a pack of stray dogs you aren’t sure can be trusted. Trying to decide which one is the ring leader. The alpha.

  “I still think we should go speak to Principal Weaver. You too, Honey, since I overheard other students say you weren’t in your classroom, either.”

  “Yes, I was,” I flat-out lie.

  I search for the classmates who were staring at me in horror less than an hour ago and spot my chemistry teacher watching us. I give him a barely there grin meant as an apology, and he nods once in return. Looking less upset than he should. He starts strolling over, inconspicuously slow, like he’s trying to gauge the situation.

  “What about me?” Blue asks, returning my thoughts to the fact that we might have to convince Principal Weaver we’re not degenerates, despite our reputation as weirds. “I mean if you’re going to single out all the Junipers as dangerous renegades, shouldn’t I come along, too?”

  “I’m not singling anyone out, yet. The facts merely are as stated. Two out of three Junipers were not where you were expected to be at the time of the incident.”

  She’s wrong. Three out of three Junipers weren’t where we were expected, but Blue is the least likely to stand out.

  “She has to come regardless,” I tell Ms. Pennick. “We’re not comfortable being separated in situations like this. It’s part of our family creed.”

  “And what creed it that?” Pen-cap digs the edge of her clipboard into her hip, all official business like she’s in charge, which is apparently all she’s ever wanted.

  “We’d tell you,” Birdie chimes in, “but then we’d have to kill you.”

  “I hardly think this is a time to make jokes,” Ms. Pennick says. “Especially ones of that nature, given the circumstances. If you girls didn’t dress so—”

  “Whoa!” I cut her off. “How we dress has nothing to do with this.”

  Pen-cap shrugs one shoulder, looking only slightly shamed.

  Her criticism backs up everything I already know people say. I am slightly disheveled by the ordeal. I know that, but it doesn’t change the fact that we have to follow her toward the administration building like criminals. I untangle my thick brown hair from its mangled bun instead. I reknot it as neatly as possible on top of my head, smoothing down all the flyaway hairs that came loose in the steamy air shaft. I don’t know if that will help, since I’m sweaty and covered in dust, but it can’t hurt. Maybe the principal won’t notice my blood-soaked knee. Pen-cap hasn’t. Yet. Neither has Birdie, which is not a shock considering
how the whole day has gone.

  Dread settles into my gut as I anticipate the questions that might sail my way during interrogation.

  Where were you going when you escaped class through the ventilation shaft?

  Why was your sister also missing during the incident?

  Do you know who this schoolbag belongs to?

  I’m thinking of answers less incriminating than the truth when Mr. Whitlock intercepts us with a block at the pass between buildings. For someone whose car was hit by the flash-bang grenades, he doesn’t appear fazed.

  “Paula, so glad I saw you,” he says. “I can take the Juniper sisters to Principal Weaver’s office from here. He asked me to bring Honey to his office if I could find her, and the general consensus is to keep the parties involved to a minimum.”

  Pen-cap pulls her triangular chin back, regarding Mr. Whitlock’s interception like she’s put out. “I suppose that makes sense. Daniel targeted your car, after all.”

  I suck in a breath, loud enough to catch Mr. Whitlock’s attention.

  “We probably shouldn’t name names,” he whispers, leaning closer to his colleague. “The powers that be like to keep the identity of those involved under wraps when dealing with minors. But I’m sure we can agree to keep that indiscretion to ourselves. It’s not like you gave his last name.”

  “Of course. I would never. Yes,” Pen-cap says, tugging nervously on her lanyard. “Will you let me know how it goes?”

  “I will if I can. Again, minors.”

  Pen-cap zips her Elkwood High windbreaker, and it suddenly seems a size too small to contain her disappointment. I’m not exactly thrilled with my teacher’s interception of us, either, considering I went against everything he asked of me in his classroom.

  Mr. Whitlock steals multiple glances at my sisters and me as we walk back toward the school. I want to pinch Birdie’s arm and ask if they purposely threw the flash-bang grenades at Whitlock’s car or if it was an accident, but I can’t. Knowing this extra piece of information makes it impossible for me to look at him.