“You know, for twins, you and Maddie aren’t that much alike. But she must be okay, I guess,” Rosie allows. “Still, you have to admit that Evelyn is a kook.”
“She let you wear her night-vision goggles,” I remind her.
“True. She means well, I guess. But she’s still living on a totally different planet.”
I
walk to lunch with Rosie, and we meet Mary and Chewy on the way. Their stories about knot-tying class are hilarious. I can’t stop laughing when Chewy tells how she tied her fingers up while trying to lash two branches together.
When we walk into the cafeteria, I realize I have a problem. “Come on over and sit with us,” Mary invites me. But Evelyn and Maddie are already sitting together. Evelyn sees me and waves.
“I should really sit with Evelyn and Maddie,” I say.
“Why?” Rosie asks. “You don’t have to.”
“Can we invite them to join us?” I ask.
Rosie, Chewy, and Mary look at one another, their expressions reluctant.
“They’re really nice,” I press.
“Okay. Ask them,” Rosie relents.
I hurry to where Evelyn and Maddie are sitting. They have their heads together. When I get closer, I realize they have a map unfolded on their laps between them. “Hey, guys,” I greet them. “Want to sit with Rosie and two of her friends?”
They look up from the map and stare at me as if I’d just spoken to them in another language.
“They want
us
to sit with
them?”
Maddie asks. Her baffled tone implies that this makes absolutely no sense. And I can kind of see her point.
“Yeah. Come on,” I say. “It will do good things for our … you know … our status. They’re cool.”
“We’re cool,” Evelyn counters.
Not really,
I think. But I don’t say it, of course. “But you’ll like them. You’ll see,” I say.
“I don’t think so,” Maddie insists. “I don’t know how you got them to invite us, but I’m fine right here, thanks.”
My temper is rising. She can be so stubborn!
“Thanks, but we’re okay,” Evelyn agrees in a nicer tone. “We’re kind of into this map thing.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
Evelyn lowers her voice. “Our cover story is that we’re preparing for the geography part of a social studies test, but we’re really trying to figure out where the heck we are.” She opens her closed palm to reveal her compass. “We’re trying to work it out using this.”
That sounds pretty impossible to me. And so not worth the effort, either.
“You go, though,” Evelyn says. “I don’t think this is your kind of thing. No offense.”
“I’m not offended. You’re right; I’m not that into it,” I agree. “See you guys later.”
My emotions are mixed as I head for the table where Rosie, Chewy, and Mary are sitting with a few other members of their athletic crowd. Even though it wasn’t a big scene, I feel like what just happened was a big deal. It was a rift between Maddie and me, and it feels kind of permanent. All at the same time, I’m super-relieved that
they didn’t want to join us, and yet I am already lonely for Maddie and even Evelyn, too. It’s as if I’ve moved into some kind of future from which there’s no going back.
It’s just lunch!
I scold myself.
Don’t make so much out of it.
With that thought, I push Maddie and Evelyn out of my head and sit down with my new friends. “They say thanks, but they were in the middle of studying for some test.”
Rosie, Mary, and Chewy all brighten. “Oh. Okay, good,” Rosie says. Then she goes on to introduce me to the rest of her friends.
We’re all free for the rest of the afternoon, so I spend it with Rosie and her crowd. We hang out by the lake and talk about CMS. These girls feel like I do — they love it here. It’s everything they could have hoped for. “I’m getting so strong,” Rosie says, flexing her right biceps.
Mary punches the hard calf muscle of her leg. “Look at this,” she says. “I can’t wait to play tennis again. I bet my game will be stronger than ever.”
I realize that I’ve also become more toned than I’ve ever been. It feels good to be strong and to be learning so many new things. A new confidence is growing inside me.
Across the lake, a group of boys heads out of the forest and into their main building. Seized by a sudden boldness, I stand and wave with a broad, sweeping gesture. They’re pretty far away, but several heads turn in my direction. One boy returns my wave.
The other girls start giggling and waving, too.
Several more boys wave back.
Their teacher notices and reprimands them, hurrying them along into the building. We all dissolve into fits of laughter. “I can’t believe you did that!” Chewy says.
“I was only being friendly,” I reply.
Around six thirty, Rosie and I head back to our dorm together. “What was it like to be in a coma?” I ask Rosie.
“What do you mean?”
“I heard you on the bus that first day,” I tell her.
“Oh, that,” she says. She smiles softly to herself. “I was never in a coma,” Rosie whispers. “I just said that to
get their attention. They all thought they were so cool with their big sports injuries. Don’t tell anyone.”
“I won’t,” I agree. “You’re too much. You became their leader as soon as you said that. You know that, right?”
Rosie nods, pleased by my words. “Do you think so?”
“Yeah, definitely,” I affirm.
“You have to know how to manage people,” Rosie says. “That’s a survival skill, too. It’s probably the most important one of all. If you don’t get to the inside of a group right away, you could find yourself on the outside, like …” Her voice trails off.
“Like who?” I press. The moment I speak I know the answer. She was about to say,
like Evelyn and Maddie.
“Like nobody,” Rosie covers quickly. “I was just saying … it could happen to a person.”
When we get to the suite, both Maddie and Evelyn are in their separate rooms reading. Rosie and I chat a little more in the main room and then go to our rooms at about seven forty-five.
Maddie puts her book down when I enter. “What did you do today?” she asks.
“Nothing, just hung with Rosie and her friends,” I answer as I take my nightshirt from the drawer. I am about to tell her about what happened with the boys across the lake, but think better of it. I don’t want her to make some sour comment that will ruin it for me. “What did you do?” I ask instead.
“Not much. I think we figured out where we are, though — right smack on the Canadian border in Minnesota,” she says.
“That means that winters here are going to be hard,” I note.
“Not only that,” Maddie says, getting up onto her elbow. “Evelyn says that the Alliance is very strong in Canada. Alliance groups have gotten into every sector of the Canadian government.”
“That’s Canada’s problem,” I say, slipping the nightshirt over my head. I’ll take a shower in the morning, I decide. I’m just suddenly exhausted. Early kitchen duty is really tiring me out.
“Yeah, but we’re right on the
border,”
Maddie says again.
“Don’t let Evelyn get to you,” I say, enjoying the soft comfort of my bunk.
“Doesn’t that concern you even a little?” Maddie asks. Judging from her agitated tone, I can tell it obviously concerns
her.
“No, not at all,” I state, yawning. “Sorry; I have to sleep. I can’t talk about this for another minute. Good night.”
I don’t know if Maddie answers me or not because my eyes slide shut and I’m instantly asleep, already dreaming of Monday, eager for the new day to begin.
Monday after breakfast Mrs. Brewster tells all of us to stay for her big announcement: our first overnight trip will be this upcoming weekend!
Rosie and I squeal with excitement, hugging each other. “Do you feel ready for this?” I ask.
“I do. I think so. Yes,” Rosie replies.
“Me, too,” I say, though I’m not really so sure. We’ve been training for this all week. And it’s not like I have to know all the outdoor things. We all have our areas of
skill and we’ll have to work together as a team, I imagine.
I run into Evelyn and Maddie on my way to English class. “So? Are you guys psyched for the overnight?” I ask eagerly.
“Oh, yeah, way psyched,” Maddie replies in a sarcastically dull monotone.
I sigh, but otherwise I ignore her remark.
“It could be interesting,” Evelyn allows. “But get this, when I was on rounds last night I heard some of the teachers talking. This trip is happening earlier than was originally planned. The staff moved it forward because they’re worried about bad weather sooner than expected.”
“Okay. So?” I say. “I don’t see the big deal.”
“Think!” Evelyn scolds. “They
know the weather.”
“Which means what?” I ask.
“Which means they obviously have a radio or TV or something, somewhere in this place,” Evelyn says knowingly.
“Unless they have a psychic on staff,” Maddie jokes. “A Canadian weather psychic.”
Evelyn laughs. “Oh, that’s funny! The Alliance ESP Division!”
Suddenly I remember about the Canadian food. “I’ve been meaning to mention something to you, Evelyn,” I begin. “You asked me to keep my eyes open in the kitchen, remember?”
“Uh-huh,” Evelyn agrees, still laughing.
“Well, the only thing I noticed is that all our food comes from a Canadian company.”
Evelyn stops laughing. “Are you kidding?”
“No. Really.”
Evelyn takes out a little notepad — a paper one — that she has in her pocket. She flips it open and then takes out her pen.
“A lot of different Canadian companies, or just one?” Evelyn asks.
“It’s all from the same place,” I tell her. “Some place called NutriCorp. It uses a big Canadian maple leaf on its logo.”
Evelyn writes this down in her notebook. “Do you think that’s important?” I ask.
“Who knows? It might be,” Evelyn answers. “It shows a connection between CMS and someone in Canada.”
“Couldn’t it just be the closest place for CMS to have food delivered from?” I challenge.
Sasha, our English teacher, comes by. “Get to class, girls,” she says briskly.
We take the test on
A Tale of Two Cities
that morning. We’re asked to compare the time of the French Revolution to our times. I smile when I see the question because I’ve already given this some thought.
Once we’ve handed in our papers, Sasha collects our Dickens novels. “Evelyn and Louisa, please take out the novels you’ll find in the back of the cabinet by the door. Pass them out among the class.”
In the cabinet, Evelyn and I find a stack of paperback books, all the same.
Julie of the Wolves
by Jean Craighead George. The books themselves are yellowed and frayed. And I know it was written a while back.
As soon as I hand Maddie her copy, she raises her hand. “Sasha,” she says when she’s acknowledged, “isn’t
this book kind of young for us? I read it in the sixth grade.”
“If you read it that long ago, then you’ll most likely need to refresh your memory and reread it,” Sasha says.
“But why are we reading such a young book?” Maddie presses.
“The theme of surviving by living in accord with the natural world is very relevant to your work here at Country Manor School,” Sasha explains.
Maddie and Evelyn exchange darting glances of concern. And even I — excited as I am about the overnight — worry that we might be expected to befriend wolves over the weekend. At CMS, anything is possible.
D
evi holds up a cluster of small purple berries. “If you found these in the woods, would you eat them?” she asks the eight of us sitting on the ground at her feet. We’re just outside the forest surrounding the school.
Alice Abbott raises her hand and speaks when Devi nods to her. “I would. They look to me like small grapes, or maybe blueberries.”
“You’re right and you’re wrong,” Devi says. “They’re elderberries. Are they edible?”
My arm shoots up. “Yes,” I answer, eager to show I’ve been studying.
“The whole plant?” Devi questions me.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Wrong,” Devi says. “The berries are good to eat. The roots are poisonous.”
There is so much to know and I’ve been working so hard. But what we need to learn seems endless. I don’t know how I’ll ever master this information, but I want to know it all.
The more academic morning teachers don’t seem to mind that we’re half-asleep because the afternoon teachers are working us so hard. I’m up until lights-out every night as I pore over the manual on laying a trail someone else can follow (by putting down different types of markers, including making a gash in a tree called an ax blaze and building rock formations called cairns).
And this is the week I discover that I have really good aim.
At the rifle range, I hit the target every time. No more wild shots that go off into the woods. I’ve gotten used to aiming low, to compensate for the kickback on the rifle.
Rosie is still the star of the range. But when I hit my first bull’s-eye cluster with one bullet dead center,
I’m most proud when she gives me a thumbs-up. “You’ll be giving me some real competition soon,” she remarks.
“Count on it,” I reply with a smile, meaning it. My goal is to someday be as good a shot as she is. Maybe even better.
Archery lessons are a little more challenging — just getting the bow and arrow into position without it all tumbling to the ground takes several tries. And my first shots are crazy. One goes straight up and makes everyone duck for cover when it lands. The next couple fly off into the forest somewhere (probably scaring a few squirrels half to death).
By the end of the first day, I have bruises from where the string of the bow hits on the inside of my left arm when I release it incorrectly. Devi, who is teaching the class, gets me a leather armguard, which helps.
My fingers take a beating, too. When the arrow isn’t placed quite right, its guide feathers, at the bottom of the arrow — which only look like feathers but are actually a kind of stiff nylon — slice my fingers. It really hurts.
Like a paper cut, which I’ve also been getting a lot of lately, only worse.
By the end of Thursday, though, I’m hitting the target regularly. I feel satisfied every time I hear that
whap-thunk
sound of my arrow being released and hitting the mark. At the very end of class, I hit my first bull’s-eye.
“Congratulations,” Devi says to me as she pulls my arrow out of the target. “A bull’s-eye after only four days of shooting is pretty impressive.”
I can’t stop smiling. I’m so proud of myself. It’s a great feeling.
Thursday night I tack my paper archery target up on our bedroom door. Maddie comes by and studies it, and then turns to me. “Wow,” she says. “That’s amazing.”
I’m in my lower bunk, looking at the pictures of Mom and Dad in my locket. “Thanks,” I say. “Who knew how much I’d love shooting at things?”
“I can see why. You’re good at it,” Maddie says.
It surprises me that she didn’t make some critical remark about archery being stupid or useless. “How are you doing in your classes?” I ask, a touch of caution in my
voice. I miss talking to her, but it’s hard not to set off her negativity these days.
“Okay, I guess,” Maddie says. “I can finally pitch a tent that doesn’t fall down around my head. And my campfires don’t fizzle out after five minutes anymore.”
I laugh lightly. “Well, that’s good.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Maddie says. “I still can’t hit a target for anything, though.”
“Maybe I could help you sometime. Rosie is really good at shooting. We could ask her if she’d —”
“No, thanks,” Maddie says quickly, and I can’t help but brace myself for some sour comment. “But I’d like it if you’d help me.”
Phew. Maybe this is a good time to get through to her, finally. Putting my locket back under my shirt, I sit up. “Listen, Maddie,” I begin. “I’m sorry we haven’t been spending so much time together. It’s just that I really love it here, and you … don’t.”
“I know. This whole
elite leaders of tomorrow
thing, it weirds me out,” Maddie says.
“Don’t take it so seriously,” I advise her. “It’s just
something they say to make us feel important. Just think of all the cool stuff we get to do that we’d never —
ever
— have the chance to do if we were at home. Where else would we learn all this? Nowhere!”
“But that’s just it — why do they have us out here in the middle of
nowhere?”
Maddie asks.
“You’re starting to sound like Evelyn,” I point out.
“Really, though. Why are we so far away from everything? We can’t even get any mail!”
“Because this is one of the only places in the country where nature hasn’t been totally wrecked by pollution and the War,” I say.
“Why is it so secretive?” Maddie pushes.
“For our safety!”
Maddie shakes her head sadly. “I don’t believe that.” “Why not?”
“I can’t explain it. I just don’t.” Maddie sighs.
“Could it be, really, that you’re just homesick … for your own mom and dad?” I ask gently.
Tears well in Maddie’s eyes as she nods. “I miss them an awful lot.”
“I miss my parents, too,” I admit. “But they’re fine, and your parents are fine. And right now we have such a cool life here, Maddie. Why can’t we just enjoy it for what it is?”
Maddie sits on the edge of my bed. “What is it, though? It confuses me.”
“I just told you! It’s a great chance to learn some cool stuff, get a good education, have fun, and make some awesome new friends.”
“I don’t want awesome new friends,” Maddie insists, wiping the wetness from her eyes.
“You’ve met Evelyn,” I remind her.
“Yeah, Evelyn is great,” Maddie admits. “But I don’t like that you’ve made great new friends. At least, you think they’re great.”
I know she’s talking about Rosie and her crowd. “They like CMS, too, like I do,” I explain.
Maddie nods, and then sniffs. “I know.”
A rush of guilt suddenly hits me like a bomb. Maddie’s been homesick, lonely, and confused. And what did I do? I got mad at her. I deserted her.
“I’m sorry, Maddie,” I say sincerely. “I’ve been kind of a jerk.”
Without looking at me, Maddie shakes her head. “It’s okay. I’ve been a pain.”
“What a pair of twins we make,” I say with a sad laugh, “a jerk and a pain.”
Maddie lifts her head and laughs, despite her bloodshot eyes. “Yeah, some pair.”
Putting my arm around her shoulders, I squeeze tight. “Want to be friends again?”
“I would like that,” Maddie agrees.
Taking my arm from her shoulder, I hold out my hand. “Friends?” I ask.
Maddie shakes my hand. “Friends,” she confirms with a smile.
Reaching around, I hug her tight. Maddie and I are friends again and I am so happy. I’ve missed her.
On Friday our morning academic classes are called off so we can prepare for our overnight. “You girls will be
divided into teams according to suite,” Mrs. Brewster announces that morning after breakfast.
That’s fine with me. Now that Maddie and I are friends again, I realize I really like my suite. I think we make a good group.
After Mrs. Brewster dismisses us, I have to finish my kitchen staff duties. It’s my last week! No more four thirty for me! It’s now going to feel luxurious to sleep until five fifteen!
Everyone has left the cafeteria by the time I finish. Just before I go, I tear the maple-leaf NutriCorp logo off a can of whole tomatoes and stick it into my jeans pocket for Evelyn.
“Here,” I say as I walk into our dorm room and hand the label to Evelyn, “some hard evidence for you.”
Maddie, Evelyn, and Rosie are all in the main living room with their clothes spread all over, along with ground covers, sleeping bags, mess kits, and other camping gear that’s been distributed to each student.
Rosie shoots me a dark look of disapproval, but I ignore her.
Evelyn takes the scrap of label from me and gapes at it as though I’ve just handed her a diamond necklace. “This is great,” she says, awestruck. “Thanks!”
“No big deal,” I say.
“What are you actually going to do with that?” Rosie asks Evelyn. “I mean,
really?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Evelyn replies defensively. “It’s real evidence, like Louisa says.”
“I was kind of kidding,” I tell her.
“Just the same, it
is
evidence,” Evelyn insists.
Rosie rolls her dark eyes and sighs. “Whatever you say.” She doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she thinks Evelyn is completely out of her mind.
“I better start packing,” I say, partly to change the subject. “I see you guys are way ahead of me.” I head into my bedroom and find my backpack in the closet. “I don’t know how all this stuff is going to fit in this thing,” I call back over my shoulder.
“It isn’t easy,” Maddie replies.
“You can do it,” Rosie says. “I’m already done.”
On Saturday I awaken before dawn to the sounds of my dorm mates stumbling around in the dark — this early we can only light one candle per room, and it isn’t enough light by a long shot. I hear Evelyn shout as she stubs her toe on the corner of her bunk.
Her cry somehow brings me fully awake. “I have to get to the kitchen!” I shout, throwing off my covers. “I’ve overslept!” I only have fifteen minutes to get there.
Grabbing my backpack, I hurry ahead to the cafeteria and discover a pleasant surprise. “The teachers are helping the kitchen staff prepare breakfast today,” Devi tells me. “We need to hurry things along this morning.”
Breakfast is granola, milk, and fruit. For the first time ever, Rosie sits with Evelyn, Maddie, and me. Now that our dorm is a team, I guess she feels that her loyalty lies with us. I appreciate that. Rosie is a team player, for sure. If we have any chance of doing well at all, it will be
because Rosie is with us. To be honest, I know I’ll be her second in command, a co-captain.
“Each team will receive a topographical map, a compass, and a destination to reach by lunchtime,” Mrs. Brewster tells us while we eat. “At that destination you will receive instructions. You’ll have thirty-six hours before you have to return with a certain leaf, water, and dirt samples,” she continues. “An automatic A will be given to anyone who hunts and kills an animal bigger than a squirrel.”
“What?” I whisper in disbelief. “Kill?” I really hope I’ve misunderstood something here. “I refuse to kill an animal. I won’t,” I say to no one in particular.
Mrs. Brewster shoots a disapproving, warning glance in my direction. I shut up.
Then she goes on, assigning locations for each group to meet before hiking out into the forest behind the school. We’re going to hike ten miles in before setting up our campsite. For the first time, my excitement is giving way to nervousness.
“Was she serious about us killing animals?” I ask as soon as Mrs. Brewster dismisses us.
Rosie answers me in an annoyed tone. “What did you think we were learning sharpshooting for?”
“Not for that,” Maddie insists. “Killing animals is gross.”
“Do you like to eat, Maddie?” Rosie replies.
Evelyn covers her face with her hands. “I can’t deal with this,” she mumbles.
“Come on, you guys,” Rosie says sternly. “We have to do whatever they ask us to do. You can’t wimp out.”
I can tell that Rosie is rising to take charge of our group, just as I expected. I feel obliged to back her up. “We’ll do whatever it takes, Rosie. You don’t have to worry about us.” I turn to Evelyn and Maddie. “Right?”
“Yeah,” Evelyn mumbles.
“Sure,” Maddie murmurs.
I understand how they feel. But I’m working hard to disguise my worries.
Rosie heads to the table where the maps and compasses are laid out, and picks out one of each for our group. When she returns, she also has a nylon bag that holds the camp lunches — the only food the staff have
prepared for us. We don our backpacks and then head for our assigned meeting place at the edge of the forest.
I’m surprised to see that there are two other suite sets of girls waiting there, as well.
“We’re a team of twelve. That’s what Devi told us,” says Anne Abadi, who has her dark hair in two braids and a red bandanna covering her head. She reports this to Rosie, as though she recognizes Rosie as the leader without being told.
Rosie makes a quick study of the group. From the seriousness in her darting eyes, I can tell she’s assessing them, sizing them up, thinking about what she knows about each one and making an educated guess about their strengths and weaknesses. Finally, she nods to herself before clapping her hands sharply. “Okay, let’s get going,” she says briskly. “We have to make camp at a spot called Eagles Aerie.”
I’m surprised when Rosie hands our group’s compass to Evelyn.
“I know you’re good with a compass,” she says to her. “I’ll read the map and you point us in the right direction.”
If anyone from the other groups minds the way Rosie is giving orders, they clearly don’t want to say so out loud.
Rosie unfolds the map and looks it over for a moment. “Start us off in a northwesterly direction,” she tells Evelyn.
Peering down at the compass, Evelyn turns in a slow circle before pointing into the forest. “That way,” she says.
“Cool. Head out,” Rosie commands.
Everyone happily falls in line — except Maddie. I hurry to her side. “Come on. You can’t hang behind like this. You have to keep up.”
“I don’t like this,” Maddie frets.
“Why not?”
“For one thing, I don’t feel like taking orders from Ms. Bossy Chavez all weekend.”
The others are getting farther and farther away from us. I take hold of Maddie’s elbow. “We have to catch up,” I say.