The Girls of No Return (34 page)

“Ben.”

“Not just Ben. You won't believe what she did.” Boone looked wild, almost happy. “She told him she was a teacher here. A counselor. And poor, simple Ben believed her. Men.” She snorted, and went on. “Of course they've been at it like rabbits.”

“Did he tell you that?”
What else did he tell you?

“Didn't have to. Ben didn't have much to say for himself. He was surprised that I was upset. What was it he said, at first? Oh, yeah —
But Georgina is your favorite teacher!
You should have seen the look on his face when I set him straight. Like I'd just told him his father was a horse or something.” She tried to laugh, but it came out mangled. From far off, I could hear the sound of the dinner bell, and of cabin doors opening and slamming shut.

“So you guys are okay, then?” If she was waiting to spring it on me, I could play along.

“Okay? No, I wouldn't say we're okay. I never want to see him again.” I thought I heard her voice crack. She cleared her throat. “But at least he knows what he's done. He can just sit up there in his bird's nest and think about that.”

This was too much. I had to ask. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing. Frankly, I didn't give him a chance to get a word in.” There was that mangled laugh again. Boone's eyes flashed with sadness, but cleared to slate just as quickly. “Asshole.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“Now?” Boone looked at her hands. “Now I'm going to wait for that little bitch to visit him again. She'll have quite the welcome, I'm sure.”

My stomach sank. Gia didn't know that Ben knew. It didn't take a psychic to see that this wasn't over yet.

“Oh, but hey — I scored us some spoils.” Boone reached into the backpack at her feet and pulled out two bottles of wine. “I took them on my way out. What was he going to say?
You're too young
? We can take them on our overnight. One for me, one for you.”

She held out a bottle, and I took it, tucking it into my sleeping bag like a stuffed animal. Somehow, confiscating the wine didn't feel like a victory.

“Thanks.”

Boone swung her head back and forth like she was releasing a demon. “Screw him,” she said finally, though her voice wasn't convincing. She rested her forearms on the rail of my bunk. “So, are you going to tell me why you're being so weird? You look like you just robbed a senior center.”

“Ha,” I said flatly. “Just tired. It's a bad day. That's all.”

Boone straightened. “Fine. Wallow if you want in your . . . whatever. But come on. Let's go to dinner. This cabin is making me crazy.”

I was terrified to face Jules again, but I knew that I'd have to, sooner or later. I swung my legs over the side of the bunk.

The Mess Hall was already packed when we got there, and we scooted into our seats just as Margaret started counting heads.

“Just in time,” Karen said.

I stole a glance at Jules. Her face was still a little blotchy, but I'm not sure you'd notice if you weren't looking for it. She had tucked her napkin into the collar of her shirt (we were having spaghetti and meatballs), and she looked like a little kid, holding her utensil in her hand like a pitchfork.

“I'm starving,” she said to the rest of the table. Our eyes met briefly, and she nodded at me — not with malice, but with something more like pity, I thought.

Jules had my number. She'd seen straight through to my twisted, rotten core. Everything she'd said back in the cabin was right. Six months at Alice Marshall, and I hadn't learned a damn thing. I certainly hadn't learned the two simplest things: how to keep a secret or be a friend. But unlike me, Jules
had
learned these things, and more. She wasn't going to hold a grudge — that wasn't her way. In fact, I could see that Jules wasn't mad at me at all. She was just sorry for me. And in some ways, that was worse.

“Hey,” she said to me, “pass the salad?”

And I did.

 

 

I'D ALWAYS HAD A HARD TIME KEEPING MYSELF FROM
watching Gia. There was something about her that just seemed to demand that I watch — something magnetic, unarguable. Over the next couple of days, though, I became the master of not-looking. Every mealtime, every large group activity became a test of my ability to keep my eyes averted. I have never been a fan of horror movies, and this was no different. When the monster jumps out of the bushes, wielding its chain saw or brandishing its talons, I cover my eyes or look at the ceiling or just stand up and leave the room. Then it isn't really happening. Why couldn't the same approach work with Gia? I didn't want to be the first thing she saw once she visited Ben.

And I did just fine, all the way until Tuesday morning.

It was a Bad Breakfast day to begin with: oatmeal and canned peaches. We sipped our coffee and sluggishly stirred brown sugar into our bowls, only occasionally taking a bite. It was freezing that morning, and getting out of bed had been an almost heroic act. No one wanted to eat, but no one wanted to leave the warmth of the Mess Hall either. Gwen and Karen were arguing over whose turn it was to refill each other's coffee cups when they were interrupted.

“Elsa, a word.” Bev stood next to our table, one hand on her hip. She looked like a statue, unsmiling and perfectly still. I hadn't even noticed her as she walked over.

Boone looked at the rest of us. She raised her eyebrow. “Sure, Bev. Should I meet you in your cabin later?”

“No, I'd prefer we speak now, please.” She didn't sound angry, exactly, but her voice had the calm precision of a high-end kitchen knife.

Boone stood up slowly, folding her napkin and resting it next to her plate. She slipped into her jacket and followed Bev outside without another word. The rest of us looked at one another.

“What do you think happened?” asked Gwen. “Did Boone do something last night?”

“Wouldn't we know?” said Jules. “I mean, I think we'd know.”

“Do you know anything about this, Lida?” Karen looked at me.

I shrugged. “Huh-uh.” I looked nervously at my lap. There was no way that Gia wasn't involved somehow. She had to be.

Five minutes later, Boone and Bev came back inside. Bev walked back to her table, and Boone sat down, blowing on her hands to warm them up.

“Well?” Gwen leaned forward in her seat. “What?”

Boone looked at me and shook her head. She spoke to the group, but her words were directed only to me. “I've been caught. The whole scene in the Rec Lodge last week? I did it.” She spoke in a monotone so calm it could have been a recording.

“Um, yeah, we know,” said Gwen. “Everyone knows that.”

“Yeah,” agreed Jules. “Even
Bev
knows that. What's the problem?”

“Well, that was all fine, I guess, until someone made it clear to her that everyone knows, and that everyone knows that she knows.”

“You're losing me here,” said Karen.

“Bev has it on good authority” — Boone paused to make sure I got this — “that I have been bragging to the whole school about it. That I've been bragging about how powerless she is to do anything to stop me from doing whatever I want. And she
can't abide pride
, she says.” She never took her eyes off me.

“Who told her that?” I asked, though we both knew who it was.

“She wouldn't say.”

I turned in my seat. I knew I shouldn't, but there was nothing I could do — I had to look. Sure enough, Gia was watching our table, her chin resting on one hand. Her face was completely blank, like an old-fashioned portrait.

“So it was okay until you
allegedly
started bragging.” Gwen looked thoughtful. “Well, now what? What's she going to do?”

“The wicked must be punished,” said Boone. She took a deep breath. “No mystical overnight journey for me.”

Karen's spoon clattered onto the table. “What? She can't do that! Everyone's going on their Solo Trips! It's the most important thing we've done! You
can't
miss it!”

“Thank you for making me feel better,” said Boone. “That's just what I needed to hear.”

“Sorry,” said Karen quickly. She busied herself by lifting a glob of oatmeal onto her spoon and then dropping it back into the bowl.

“Whatever,” said Boone. “Look. I knew what I was doing when I did it, right? I was ready to get in trouble then — why not now?”

She was being way too calm about this. She sounded like Margaret, in fact: Zen. What was it Gia once said?
Cool as a cucumber.
But with Boone, cucumbers were never just cucumbers; they were pickles. Something was up.

Jules reached over and patted Boone's hand. “I'd let you go in my place,” she said, raising the corner of her mouth in a smile. “I'd
pay
you to go in my place.”

Everyone laughed at that, Boone the loudest, and I spent the rest of breakfast listening to Karen and Gwen extol the virtues of the Solo Trip to a doubtful Jules. I didn't look at Gia again.

We had kitchen patrol that morning, which basically meant cleaning the tables after everyone else left. The cooks were listening to the Grateful Dead as they began prepping for lunch, and they propped open the door between the dining room and kitchen so we could listen. (They probably knew that we were the ones who stole food when they weren't there, and I think they respected us more for it.) I was walking around the tables, picking up the salt and pepper shakers and putting them on a tray, watching Gwen and Karen dance to “Friend of the Devil” as they wiped down each table with a damp cloth. Karen waved her arms around her like a genie or a belly dancer, and Gwen stomped her boots and jerked her head from side to side. Jules stood near them with a bottle of Windex in her hand, moving her shoulders in time to the beat and smiling self-consciously.

“She's going to pay.” Boone was standing behind me. I hadn't heard her come over from where she'd been sweeping by the door. All of the anger that she'd kept at bay during breakfast seeped out through each word.

“You sure it was her?”

“Come on, Lida. Who else?”

I picked up a pepper shaker and placed it carefully on the tray. “She must've gone up there yesterday.”

“Bingo.”

Now Karen had grabbed Jules's arms and was pulling them back and forth in a strange couple's dance. Jules started laughing. “Stop!” she said between gasps. “You know I can't dance!”

“What are you going to do?” I still hadn't turned around to face Boone. I spoke to the tray in my hands instead.

“I don't know,” she said. “Maybe she's already had her punishment. Maybe that's enough.” She paused just long enough that I started to believe her, and then she slapped my back, hard, with the palm of her hand. “Kidding! That bitch is going down.”

I listened as Boone moved away, back toward her broom. Gwen, Karen, and Jules were all dancing together. Jules spun around with her arms outstretched. The cooks turned up the music for the last refrain. I could hear them singing along in the kitchen.
Set out running, but I take my time.
Jules was spinning faster and faster now, her head thrown back, nothing between her and the music but the dizzying world.
A friend of the devil is a friend of mine.

 

We had Circle Share later that morning. It was our last one before the Solo Trips. I walked to the Rec Lodge slowly, head lowered and chin tucked against the cold that had moved down the mountain overnight and hadn't dissipated after breakfast. It nipped at my fingers and carried with it the unmistakable scent of snow.

All I wanted to do was get through Circle Share and get out. I had thought briefly about opening the bottle of wine that Boone brought down from Ben's place, but I didn't have the stomach to be a morning drinker. And besides, being drunk wouldn't change the fact that Gia had declared war.

I slouched in, wishing for some sort of crisis — a flood, maybe — so that Amanda would be forced to cancel the session. Gia wasn't there yet. I sandwiched myself between a Fifteen and Heather, the Seventeen who had asked Margaret if we could do our Solo Trips in the guest dorm. I started counting the minutes until the meeting would be over. Boone shot a look at me from across the circle, raising her hands in a “What gives?” gesture, but she didn't come over, and I stayed where I was.

Amanda had lit a fire in the large fireplace, and it crackled near us as we began. I sat on my hands to warm them.

“Okay,” said Amanda. “Everyone have everything they need?”

A few girls raised their cups of coffee in confirmation.

“Good.”

“Sorry I'm late.” Gia stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as she pulled a cashmere glove off her hand, finger by finger.

“Well, come on in. You haven't missed anything.” Amanda smiled warmly at her. All my life, my dad had been telling me that there would come a time when I realized that grown-ups are just people, prone to the same weaknesses and embarrassments as the rest of us. At that moment, seeing Amanda so blissfully ignorant, smiling in that benign way of hers, I knew that my dad had been right. The grown-ups were useless.