The Sisterhood

by A. J. Grainger

  “Is that . . . is that what you really believe? I mean . . . Moon would have burned you al—”

  Seven cut her off. “Moon saved me.” Her bottom lip jutted out stubbornly, and Lil could see how hard it was for her to accept that so much of her life was a lie.

  “Perhaps . . . ,” Lil began gently, “perhaps Moon was not telling the truth about your mum. Perhaps she wanted you and . . .” She trailed off.

  Seven’s eyes filled with tears. “I am a boat caught in a tide. How can I find shore again if everything I have ever believed is a falsehood?”

  When Mella first left, people would tell Lil, “It’s all right. There, there. It’s okay.” But sometimes things weren’t okay. It was a lie to say that they would be. So Lil didn’t tell Seven it would be all right. Instead she sat down beside her and took her hand.

  Seven smiled, eyes shining with tears. “I can see the Light inside you. The high priestess said recreants were cruel and selfish and full of Darkness, but you’re not like that at all.”

  “Thank you,” Lil said, a touch of humor in her voice. Seven’s world sounded so dramatic. Everything in stark contrast, with no shades of gray. But wasn’t that exactly what life was? The spaces in between. No one was just one thing.

  “Kiran isn’t like they said they were either,” Seven said.

  Her turn of phrase pulled Lil up short. “Like they said who were?”

  “Men,” Seven said in a hushed whisper, as though it were a dirty word.

  “What?” Lil cried.

  “I have never conversed with one before.”

  “You’ve never spoken to a guy? How? How is that possible?”

  “There aren’t any men at the compound.”

  “None? At all?” Lil could hear the incredulity in her voice.

  “No. Little boys, yes, once, though not now. They must leave the compound before their twelfth sun. I used to think that male children became female when their sun turned twelve, until Sister Luster told me the truth. It is strange to me that the Light would cast someone out because of the way they were born. The Light is for everyone. She shines on everyone—so how can only certain people be allowed to enjoy Her glory and Her Brightness?”

  Seven spoke with such conviction. Lil wondered how it felt to believe so utterly, so unfailingly, in something, even after everything Seven had been through. “I can’t imagine growing up with no boys. No men. That’s . . . so . . .” Unnatural. “But,” Lil added, a thought occurring to her, “you said there were babies at the compound. How did . . . ?”

  “The women arrived pregnant. But, oh.” Seven ducked her head, cheeks coloring. “Sister Luster explained that to me also . . . how they . . . they became that way.” She looked up suddenly, cheeks aflame. “You know, don’t you? I don’t have to explain?”

  Lil held in a laugh. “I know. It’s okay. I don’t need the birds-and-the-bees talk.”

  “The birds and the bees? Luster didn’t mention them.” Seven’s forehead creased.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Lil said quickly. “A turn of phrase. So, huh, no men. I can’t . . . wow . . .”

  Seven rolled onto her back and was staring up at the ceiling, eyes closed, a gesture that said, I don’t want to talk anymore. Lil turned to watch the goings-on in the hall. She would never be able to sleep now with everything that Seven had told her spinning around and around in her brain.

  People moved about the hall, eating, sleeping, and, in one couple’s case, arguing. “I told you to buy sandbags,” the woman said. “But, oh no, you wouldn’t listen.”

  A couple of little girls were playing a clapping game next to them. The younger of the girls, who was maybe seven or eight, kept glancing over at the couple. Her parents, maybe, Lil wondered. Every time she did so, the older girl started clapping and singing louder, to bring her back to the game. Seeing them reminded Lil of her and Mella. They’d played the same game when they were little, and Mella had always been doing things to distract her from their parents’ fighting. At night, when the raised voices could be heard through the thin walls of their London flat, Mella would climb into Lil’s bed and sing loudly, right in her ear, so Mella’s voice was all she could hear. The memory brought up a lump in Lil’s throat. I miss you, Mella, she told her sister in her head.

  “What are they doing?” Seven asked, nodding at the two little girls.

  “It’s a clapping game.”

  “Why?” Seven asked, so confused that Lil laughed despite everything.

  “For fun? For a competition. I used to play it with my sister.”

  Seven nodded, watching the girls a moment longer before saying, “She missed you. She talked of you. Not to me. To the other sisters, sometimes. A sister called Dazzle especially. It was forbidden to talk of the outside, but I heard them whispering to each other, at night.”

  “And Mella talked about me?” Tears rose to Lil’s eyes. “Did she say why she left? Did she say it was my fault?”

  “I never heard her say anything that was unkind or angry about you,” Seven said, and then added, “I do not believe your sister ever blamed you. She loves you. She said you are brilliant.” She put Mella’s emphasis on the word, making Lil smile widely. “You are her best friend.”

  “But she still left me.” Lil’s voice was fragile, like something easily broken.

  “Yes, but the Light gave your sister something she was missing. Hope.”

  The tears cascaded down Lil’s cheeks. Her sister had lived for seventeen years without hope. “I never knew,” she said. “I had no idea she was so unhappy.”

  You did know, said a tiny voice in her head. It sounded so much like Mella. You just didn’t want to see it.

  Oh God, Lil thought. Oh God, Mella. I’m so sorry.

  “The Light can seem cruel sometimes,” Seven said, “but She has Her plan.”

  Anger mixed with Lil’s grief and it burned brightly. “This is her plan? My sister leaves me? You nearly get burned alive. That’s a plan? And you’re okay with that?”

  Seven’s tone was calm and gentle. “We can’t know the Light’s thoughts. If Mella hadn’t left, she wouldn’t have found the Light. I wouldn’t have found you. And I can’t . . . I can’t regret that, no matter what happened to make it come about.”

  Lil’s rage subsided a little.

  “If Mella hadn’t come to the compound, I would not have had anywhere to run to that night.”

  Lil didn’t know what to say. She would have done anything to stop her sister leaving, but Seven was right. Perhaps some things were meant to be. But a guiding Light? . . . Lil shook her head. It was so implausible.

  There was a giggle from the girls on the other side of the room.

  “So,” Seven said, “how does this game work?”

  “It’s silly,” Lil said.

  “I’d like some silly, please,” Seven said. “I think up until now I’ve had far too much seriousness.”

  Lil smiled back at her. “Okay,” she said, holding out her hands, “but I warn you, I’m very good at this. . . .”

  As they played, she thought about Mella. The same refrain on repeat in her head. Please let her be safe. Please. Please. Please. She paused and then added, By the Light, please let her be safe.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lil took in another lungful of air. It wasn’t exactly fresh, surrounded as she was by water that seemed to have come from the local sewage plant, but it was fresher than the village hall. With so many people in there, it was beginning to stink.

  Lil had come out here when she woke; she and Seven had been sleeping close together, limbs entangled like conjoined twins. She’d detached herself from Seven slowly, so as not to wake her. Seven had been dead to the world, though, barely stirring even when Lil accidentally knocked her head getting off the bed.

  Lil hadn’t remembered falling asleep. The clock in the hall had stopped, she didn’t know what time it was, but she couldn’t believe she had slept at all with everything going on with Mella. She felt guilty.


  It was cold out here, but the rain had finally stopped, and the sky was red and orange as the sun tried to break through, pale, though, murky, like the color bleeding on one of those watercolors Mella used to paint. She didn’t have the patience to wait for the layers to dry, so all the colors ended up leaking into one another and turning gray.

  Lil’s back ached and she knew it was from sitting so stiffly, every part of her tense against the wind whipping about her. It wasn’t just the cold. She was on edge about Mella. No more news yet, just that the police were continuing to investigate possible locations and leads, which was proving even more difficult, thanks to the weather. It was all taking too much time. Sabrina reassured her that they were doing everything they could, but it didn’t feel that way.

  Lil stared angrily out at the valley, a river now. It glistened below her, uncaring and unheeding that it was stopping her from reaching her sister. Lil longed for a plane, or a helicopter, or a boat that would carry her across that foul water to Mella. But even if she had the transport, she didn’t know where to go. As infuriating as it was, Lil’s only choice was to wait for the police to pinpoint the location of the Sisterhood. All she could do was hope that they did it quickly.

  She wished this were all over, that Mella were at home, safe, and the three of them were eating one of the croissants Mella always made on birthdays. It was ironic because Mella burned toast and possessed zero interest in cooking, and yet fiddly, fancy, buttery French patisserie—she was a genius at it.

  Course you wish you were eating one, Mella piped up. They’re amazing! So good you want to die!

  Which you would if you ate too many.

  Yeah, but what a way to go! Mella paused and then said, Are we all right?

  You’re in my head, Mella. Of course we’re not all right.

  You know the first stage of madness?

  Hearing voices in your head?

  Nope. Hairs on the back of your hand.

  Lil laughed. And the second stage is looking for them. Lil drew a deep breath. Tensing up was not keeping her any warmer. I know things were bad at the end. You and me . . . Lil trailed off.

  Mella wasn’t listening. She’d stuck her fingers in her ears and was singing at the top of her voice.

  You have to be serious sometime, Lil said.

  Yeah, right, that coming from the girl hearing voices.

  One voice. Yours. I miss you. So much.

  Miss you, too.

  There was a long pause. Then Mella said, I didn’t want to leave. If you hadn’t . . .

  It was Lil’s turn to metaphorically jab her fingers in her ears, trying to force her sister’s voice out of her mind. She didn’t want Mella to finish that sentence.

  The memory of Sabrina’s birthday, the last one before Mella left them a few months later, filled her head. Sabrina was working a late shift, so she came over in the morning. Mella had been in a funny mood all week; she’d come back late the night before and hadn’t made croissants. The atmosphere at breakfast was tense.

  “Would it hurt you to smile?” Mum said. “Honestly, Mella.”

  Mella didn’t answer or look up from where she was picking her toast apart but not actually eating any. Sabrina and Lil exchanged a glance. Lil wished her mum wouldn’t try to get a rise out of Mella.

  Mella looked tired and thin. Lil could see the sadness in her, beneath her aggression; like tentacles, it wrapped itself around everything, sucking the joy from all of them. Lil wondered why Mum couldn’t see it. Maybe she could, and shouting at Mella was easier than addressing it.

  Lil nudged Mella gently under the table to get her attention. She wanted to smile at her, to say, It’s okay, I know.

  “Stop kicking me,” Mella said angrily.

  Lil colored. “I didn’t . . . I . . .”

  Mella stood up so fast her chair clattered to the floor. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “I’ll be late for college.”

  “Mella! Get back here right now.” The words died on Mum’s lips as the front door slammed. Mum sighed. Her face settled into a series of hard lines. “Honestly, that girl. Doesn’t know how lucky she is.”

  “She seems a bit down,” Sabrina ventured. “I’ve thought for a while that—”

  Mum cut her off. “She’s moody. She’s a teenager.” She snatched up her plate and dumped it in the sink. “You finished eating, Lil? Let’s get this done, so that Sabrina can be on her way.”

  Lil flinched at her mum’s words and tone. Lil mouthed a sorry at Sabrina, who smiled, but her eyes were distant and Lil knew she was thinking of Mella.

  Mella always took up more space than anyone else. Birthdays, holidays, were full of Mella: either running off, or fighting with their mum, or sulking. Sometimes it felt like even when she was gone, Mella sucked up all the space, so that there was nothing left for anyone else. But Lil didn’t care. She’d give up all her oxygen, all her everything, to have Mella back safe.

  Come home, Mels. Please.

  Leaning forward and pushing her fists into her eyes, Lil swallowed the rising ball of panic and dropped her head into her hands. She didn’t know how long she had been sitting like that, but when she sat back, Mella was on the bench next to her, so close Lil could smell the bubble gum of her lip gloss. She was dressed in her sunshine-yellow T-shirt with the cute panda on the sleeve, her ripped jeans, and Lil’s DMs. Don’t be angry, Mouse. Please.

  I’m not mad, M. She got no further. She blinked and Mella was gone. Never really there.

  There was a movement at the corner of Lil’s eye and, startled, she turned quickly to see Kiran coming toward her. “It’s freezing! What you doing out here?” he asked as he drew close.

  Lil forced a smile, pushing her grief for her sister back inside. “Enjoying the sweet, sweet smell of raw sewage.” Her voice was flat and Kiran hesitated.

  “Are you okay? I mean, if you want to be alone, I can . . .”

  “What? No. Seriously. Sit with me. Take in the view.”

  “Nice weather,” he said, sitting beside her and tugging his sleeves down over his hands.

  “Hey, this is nice for Wales.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You look kind of . . . and finding out about Mella and stuff . . .”

  Unfinished sentences must be catching.

  “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind, you know.” Lil smiled gently at him and felt that pull, like she and Kiran were joined by string, and no matter what happened, they kept getting tugged back together.

  He wore a dark-green beanie hat with luminous orange trim on his head, and he’d changed his T-shirt. The new one was long sleeved, with a fake bloodstain on it, shaped to look as though something with huge teeth had taken a massive bite out of him. The caption said, “Bite me!” His dad must have grabbed it from home for him. Kiran owned a vast collection of “humorous” T-shirts. At least his clothes were clean, although he must be cold out here without a sweater.

  Lil suddenly felt self-conscious in the sweater Sabrina had found for her. It smelled a bit moldy. She tucked her hair behind her ears. It was greasy, and she wished she had a hair band. Why was she thinking like this? She saw Kiran every day. Why would he care what she looked like?

  Lil looked deep into Kiran’s dark-brown eyes and saw a kaleidoscope of memories, despite having known him only a few months: the time he’d brought her soup when she had the flu, and when he’d left the first bluebell of the season on her desk at school because she’d said they were her favorites, the crease he got between his eyebrows when he was concentrating, the way he sucked the end of his pencil, and the way she sometimes caught him looking at her. A sliver of feeling blossomed in Lil. She closed an imaginary fist around it and squeezed. She couldn’t afford distractions. She didn’t deserve them, not when Mella was missing. Lil pinched her arm, to give herself some focus.

  There was concern in Kiran’s eyes now, but it was chased by wariness, like a twist of iron in a rope to make it stronger. “Any news?”

 
“No. Sabrina’s working on it.”

  He whistled. “I don’t know what to say . . . They’ll probably—”

  “What time is it?” she asked, cutting him off. Some things were too hard to talk about. She turned his wrist so that she could see his watch. It was a chunky thing with a bright-orange strap and had so many different dials on it that it took Lil a little while to work out which number gave the time. One measured his heart rate, the depth of the river, the distance from the sun, the number of days left before the world ended. Then she found her eyes wandering. She’d never noticed the inside of Kiran’s wrist before. The skin was paler, like something hidden. She felt shy suddenly and let go of him, without registering the time properly. Tenish? Elevenish?

  Kiran had that clear, concerned look in his eyes again. The one that made her feel exposed. Undone.

  “You tell your dad about the car?” she asked.

  Kiran didn’t answer immediately. “Here,” he said, handing her a Twix, her favorite. He opened a packet of potato chips and ate a couple of handfuls before saying, “If Sabrina hadn’t been around, I reckon I would be decomposing slowly in a shallow grave right about now.”

  “I’m sorry, K. He was probably just worried.” It was something Lil recognized from her mum’s reaction to Mella.

  “Yeah. Wish his worrying involved less shouting.” He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up and getting chip crumbs in it.

  “You have . . .” She gestured at his head.

  “Mad professor, eh?” Kiran said with a grin, flattening his hair down.

  Lil smiled back. “Just a bit. And there’s chips . . .”

  “Oh, right.” He ruffled his hair, dislodging the chips but making the strands stick up again.

  Lil opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. He looked cute.

  Cute, eh? Mella said in her head. Ooh, Mouse!

  You shut up, Lil told her gently.

  Mella began to sing: Lil and Kiran K-I-S-S-I-N-G.

  “I keep thinking about it,” Kiran said, interrupting her thoughts. “Being trapped in that car. I played it down to Dad, but we could have died, Lil.”