These thoughts help me mend. These are the fantasies that wile away the endless time at the Compound. These are the wishes that help me bide my time as I await the inevitable.
The arrival of market day.
23
AFTER
Two days after Nena took Attah Walrus out and practically gave her family a heart attack, she was pulling onto the private school’s grounds, trailing behind another car that led her to where the students congregated to meet their rides home. She surveilled the property as she pulled to a stop in the curved driveway, wondering for the hundredth time why she’d come. She stepped out of her luminescent white Audi, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes jumped from point to point, mapping the location with the precision of a cartographer.
There wasn’t security past the gate she’d entered. Teachers dotted the grounds, but they were more involved in their own conversations than in what the students were doing. The adults in the car line were too busy using their phones or speaking with each other. Students milled around, some playing sports, some talking. The place reminded her of the preparatory school she and Elin had attended. The school didn’t seem like Cortland’s or Georgia’s cup of tea, but what did she know?
She spied Georgia sitting on a bench on the plush lawn, glancing at her watch. The girl looked up and noticed Nena. Georgia’s first reaction was shock, not fear, Nena noticed, pleased. Georgia jumped off the bench and nearly ran to where she stood.
As she neared, a student passing by asked, “Who’s the Audi?”
Nena’s brows crinkled as she looked at her car. It wasn’t any different than the expensive imports lining the pickup line.
“Don’t worry about it,” Georgia said, reading Nena’s expression. She stopped short of her, breathless and flushed. “That’s how kids here at Prep refer to the cars they’re riding in. I guess you’re an upgrade from my dad’s Chevelle, so they noticed.”
Nena nodded. These kids had life easy if car types were all they noticed.
“How’d you know where to—” Georgia stopped when she recognized the school lanyard Nena dropped in front of her. The ID twisted in the breeze, sunlight glinting off the plastic.
She groaned, accepting the ID. “Where were you when I needed this?”
“Indisposed.”
Georgia’s eyebrows furrowed as teen angst emanated from her. “I had to serve hours for two days.”
Nena’s blank stare prompted her to add, “After-school detention.” She slipped the lanyard over her head, patting the ID three times.
“For good luck,” she explained. “Thanks for bringing it.”
“You’re welcome, Georgia Baxter.” Nena slipped her hands into the back pockets of her dark denim jeans as she tried to think of what came next. Awkward. She wasn’t sure what to say to a kid. She didn’t usually deal with them in her line of work. What did people this young like to talk about?
Georgia toed the earth with her sneakers, eyeing Nena warily as the wind blew at the thick coils around her head. She brushed them back impatiently, her eyes moving all over: from Nena’s face to her car, to the ground, to Georgia’s Vans and Nena’s All Stars. All the while, Nena watched patiently and waited for the girl to say her piece.
“Are you like a cop or special agent or something? A spy, maybe? Mission Impossible or G.I. Jane, which is one of my favorite movies, by the way?”
Nena was amused. “Noted.”
Georgia grinned back. “Yeah.” She looked away bashfully, as if deciding whether she should continue.
“What’s on your mind?” Nena prompted, leaning back against her car. She wasn’t ready to leave just yet. And she wanted to figure out why.
Georgia took a step forward, her eyes trained intently on Nena’s. “The other night was like a scene right out of Black Panther.”
The tiniest smile played at Nena’s lips. She’d heard this before. She and Elin had gotten a kick out of the movie when it had come out, musing about how it captured the essence of the Tribe and Africa. Their dad had groused, “It’s nothing like Africa.” But his daughters knew he liked the idea of it as well.
She leaned in closer to Nena. “How—how did you . . .” She swallowed and cleared her throat. “The thing with the big guy’s neck. I didn’t think it was possible to break a neck with your bare hands.”
Nena cocked her head at an angle. “Separating the vertebrae is not typical or easy. It was the first time it actually worked.” Nena had thought Georgia’s eyes couldn’t get any larger. She was wrong.