New Horizons (27 page)

“What’s your book called down there,” I asked her. I put my head over the edge and looked down at Tracy. The book’s title caught my eye while Tracy glared at the words.

Then Again, Maybe I Won’t

“Looks good,” I said. It was just something to say. I had no idea if it was good or not. I wondered if Tracy chose it because she liked Judy Blume or because there wasn’t much choice in the empty shelves in the mess hall.

Kenzie was braiding Twin’s hair to the right of my bunk. Maybe Kenzie was envious of her long hair. Maybe she was tying it in knots. Twin was smoking her toothbrush, and inhaling deeply from it like a pipe. She was addicted, and it was really sad. Logan climbed down her ladder and took off her t-shirt.

“Oh we’re doing that again, are we?” I asked.

“My clothes are disgusting, I gotta wash them. They smell bad.”

“Maybe you smell bad and your clothes are fine.”

“Maybe it’s both,” she said.

Mine smelled bad too. And they itched. And if I didn’t have to, I would never wear a shirt again. Mine had yellow stains under the arms and was constantly damp. It was funny to me how clothes were a privilege—yet they were required.

“Anyone else wanna go do a quick wash before bed?” Logan asked.

The girls were all up for it. I was up for it but I didn’t have the luxury of clean clothes. I was a dirty kid until I was back in Basinview, where I had the luxury of options for outfits.

“Val? Are you coming with us?” Logan covered her mouth. “Oh that’s right, you can’t. Nevermind.”

They left me in my bunk. Where I was comfortable to be. Nice and alone, with the wind howling in the background.

It wasn’t scary being alone in a cabin in the woods. If something happened to me, it wouldn’t be my fault. I was under someone else’s care, and that’s why it was easy to daydream about maybe the ceiling collapsing and me being pinned under wood. That was always exciting to think about—almost dying when it wouldn’t be my fault. And I could have a reason to limp around life with something to blame.

There was a knock on the cabin door. When I looked over, Sharon had already entered. Her wiry hair was pinned at the top of her head, and I realized she and I probably had the same kind of hairstyle—messy and everywhere.

“The other girls are up at mess hall, cleaning their clothes.”

“I know,” Sharon said. “I’m wondering what you’re doing.”

“I’m not doing anything.” I sighed after.

“Is everything okay, Valerie?” Sharon asked. Her voice wasn’t light and pretty. It was a quiet monotone that raised the hairs on my head.

That was one of the worst things you could ever ask someone—if everything was okay. Why the hell would everything be okay? When was everything ever okay? Most people never wanted to actually hear the answer. Maybe Sharon did though, which was exhausting.

“You can talk about anything,” she said.

“Like what?” I smiled. It was crazy to me that she believed that—that anybody, anywhere, could talk about anything. Just on the spot. With listeners.

“Anything. Things that are bothering you.”

“This program is bothering me.”

“How so?” She took a seat on Brooke’s bed. She looked up at me. I pretended I was lying in my grave. Maybe when I died, I would have a grave that people would have to look up at instead of down. That seemed better to me. There were carvings on the ceiling. You had to do crazy things to get up there.

“These girls…” I whispered.

Sharon didn’t say anything. Maybe she knew better.

“I’ve never known anyone exactly like them. And they’re easily nuts in certain moments, and fine in others. And we’re here, from other places, and we’re all in this thing to get better in different ways. And like, then we go back, where no one knows what we saw or went through…we just continue on. Just like that. From where we left off. Because you have to. It’s just…”

There were a few names above my head. A Janet and a Cindy with a heart. I could have easily put my name up there since I was on top bunk. But I hadn’t felt like it back then. I put my name on the bunk, where I could carve lying down because it was easier.

“It’s all starting to mix,” I whispered.

“What is?”

There was no simple answer. In my head, I had been in a place where I couldn’t be touched. But people had the capacity to pull everything out of you just from being around you. Even though I was trying to stay out of things, my life was being unzipped around the edges of my body, and it was all peeling off of me. The adrenaline of being in a new place had worn off, and I was Valerie Campbell, almost eighteen, living a thousand different lives depending on what kind of person was in front of me.

I would never know who I wanted to be. Maybe that was what being young was about. But being young wouldn’t be an excuse that could protect me forever.

“Valerie, wouldn’t you say that you’re liking things here?”

I laughed.

“Come on…you like your group a little bit. Even if they are different. I think that’s what you’re trying to say—that it’s nice to be in a place that’s different. Away from your everyday life. And it’s nice to be around different kinds of people that you didn’t realize you could ever get to know. It’s like a vacation. And you get to be yourself.”

“Kind of.”

“And Murray?”

I looked at her.

“What—I’m old. But you two seem friendly to me. And I heard you arguing today. Friends like to argue.”

“He’s bad.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know, he just is. And it’s embarrassing.”

“What is?”

“That I liked him. And he’s a bad person.”

“It’s okay be friendly with people who may not be like you. Being nice to every kind of person is what being good is all about.”

“Yeah, but I thought he was someone different than what he was.”

“You believed what he was telling you. That’s okay.” She smiled. “Just forgive him in your head.”

“And forget about him.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Why waste my time thinking about him?”

“It’s nice to remember little moments and pieces of things. You can imagine him however you want that way. He can exist in your head, and that way you never actually have to know him again. You get to picture him how you want. And imagine him well, somewhere else, and better. And then you don’t have to worry.”

Maybe it was that easy. To just make it up. Like a giant day dream. But that was what immature, young people did when they couldn’t move on.

“Valerie you know better than a lot of people here, but that doesn’t mean you have to be mean or cruel to them. You might be in their situation some day and want someone to hear your side of the story without judgement.”

“Sharon.” I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. I just felt so stupid and awful and low. “I’m so sorry for pushing you that night—I know it happened forever ago, but I should have apologized when it happened. I’m sorry for hurting your wrist. I shouldn’t have done that and I knew it and I still did it—”

“I understand, Val. I don’t take it personally. It wasn’t the first time it happened, and it won’t be the last for me. What matters is that you never do it again. No matter how angry or upset you get, never touch anybody, ever. You know better than that.”

For once, I finally agreed with her. I did know better. And since I knew better, I really wanted to never, ever do anything bad again. Maybe I had that option. It was my choice.

The girls and I were pretty sick of each other. To put it into some perspective, I knew that Logan’s knees clicked when she bent down, and I knew that Brooke always bit the left side of her cheek, and not the right, and that Kenzie only ever seemed to breathe out of her mouth, which is how we noticed her bad breath. The whole day we were stuck outside with each other making more knots, and learning about types of plants. It was a relief when Sharon called us to the mess hall. For supper we had kraft dinner—which was a treat, since it was gooey and hot.

Everyone in the program was eating. All thirty-one residents, since Jenny had disappeared. I wondered what they had told her group—that she went home, probably. All random numbers were around me, and my jug, 49, was the only number that mattered to me. We all looked like different versions of tired sitting with our groups, stuffing our faces. I put my head down on the table after I finished my bowl of supper, and waited for someone to clear my dishes.

“Hello everyone,” Larry said. His voice came from somewhere on the stage, and when I lifted my head, he was standing in the middle of it. There was no microphone or anything for him to project his voice. We just had to be quiet to hear him.

The last time I was looking at the stage, listening to someone on it, a play was being performed. Campers were pretending to be old people. They put flour in their hair and drew wrinkles on their faces with markers. That was how you played old—ruining your appearance, taking it slow.

“Tonight we have some good news for you all. This is another graduation ceremony. We will be crowning those who have seen progress.”

I lifted my head. There was something in me that had a weird feeling. I wondered if I was going to be part of it. I’d been doing differently. Not better, but differently. Maybe other people had noticed.

Larry went through each group and gave out the dark, wooden beads for becoming a Dandelion. There was clapping, but most of the people were jaded and took the beads only because they were held out to them.

But Larry didn’t stop with the beads like he normally did. There was something else he had to hand out.

“This afternoon, some of you will also become Fireflies.”

Logan’s eyes opened a little wider. She looked over at Brooke, who was smiling. Why the hell were they smiling? What was it about a glow stick wrapped in a halo that made someone smile? When the lights went low, Larry began calling the Fireflies up to the stage. One by one my group left me and came back to the table with halos over their heads.

“That is the end of the awards,” Larry said.

“Are you kidding me?” I stood up. My chair pushed out from behind my legs and fell over. My group looked at me like they didn’t want anything to do with me.

“Valerie, stop,” Kenzie whispered.

“Why don’t I get beads?” I yelled at the stage.

“Because you’re not a Dandelion,” Larry said back.

I really wanted the beads. They were tiny and dark and round and you could loop them around you wrist a bunch of times or wear them long around your neck. There were so many ways to own it and I didn’t have the option for any.

“These past couple days have been your worst yet,” Larry said. He took a step closer to the edge of the stage. “You can’t get beads. You are not a Dandelion.”

I didn’t care about being a Dandelion. But it sucked because I wanted those wooden beads. To have something to take back home and show that I had been there. A reminder, maybe. And I had a strong feeling I was going to leave with nothing. That was my fault, and I didn’t want to care. But I did.

“I have another very important announcement,” Larry said. He wasn’t looking at me anymore. His eyes were scanning the other groups, and staying away from mine. He was great at pretending I hadn’t interrupted things. “We are not just here because you are doing well. There is a storm coming. And we want everyone to be safe out there in the woods tonight. No leaving the cabins for anything tonight. And night watchers will be around too, making sure everything is safe. It’s going to be a long one. Stay inside. It’s not worth anyone’s life to go to the bathroom.”

It was only wind. It wasn’t a hurricane. It was just some rain that knew how to come down hard and scare us.

“Guys.” I picked up my chair and sat back down. The girls weren’t looking at me, and I leaned across the table to get their attention. “Jenny escaped. They can’t find her. I know that’s why they’re scared. There is no storm. They want us staying close. I know they’re out there looking for her.”

The counsellors began to rise and escort their groups back to their cabins. There was the noise of chairs moving, and scarping across the floor. Residents were laughing, and playing with their glow sticks, glad to have them on their head.

Tracy raised her hand.

“Put your hand down,” I told her.

She kept it up.

“Tracy, please go with your group back to your cabin,” Larry said.

“I have a question,” she said.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Is Jenny still missing?”

Larry looked down at her, and then glanced around at the other residents. A few that were nearby had heard her question, but most remained in their own world, far away from the new revelations.

“Is she?” Tracy repeated.

“I don’t know what you’re—”

“Sure you don’t,” I cut in. “There’s no hiding it now, Larry.”

“Valerie—”

“SOMEONE GOT OUT!” I yelled.

Logan covered her ears and glared at me. The other residents were suddenly looking my way too, caught off guard by the interruption in their celebrations. It was supposed to be a good night. But new information was interrupting things.