Then he turns to me. “I’ll take care of you.”
Sanderson rushes away from Gordon’s scrutiny, leading Cheryl and Chloe toward the cafeteria as instructed. He holds the door open for the women. The three disappear inside.
Once they’re gone, Gordon, as eerily quiet as the grounds, fixes his attention on me. Where are all the guests? I debate taking off, sprinting from building to building until I find my sister. Gordon may be fit, but he can’t possibly outrun me.
The doors to the cafeteria burst open. People pour out: twentysomethings, the sprightliest elderly I’ve ever seen, and every generation in between. My shoulders sag with relief. Lunch must have just finished. I scan every face for Kit. The residents of Wisewood wear jeans and puffy jackets, bundled up against the cold. Some of them carry stacks of books; others have cleaning equipment in hand. They appear relaxed but move with purpose. Two young women walk with their heads back and tongues out, giggling as they try to catch snowflakes. Everyone seems . . . normal.
Happier than normal, if I’m being honest. Few dark circles lurk under eyes. Their skin shines. They beam as they pass us. There are no flowing white robes, no blood dripping down faces. Maybe Wisewood isn’t to blame for Kit cutting me off. Her decision to join might not have been tough at all. Maybe she was sick of her know-it-all big sister criticizing her every decision.
Kit and I bickered about a lot of things （crayons, bikes, boys, the importance of saving for retirement）， but most of all, we fought about Mom. Kit tiptoed around our mother. She let her lie in bed for days, whereas I tugged her out of it and nudged her into the shower. Kit was the favorite because she never pushed, because she made room for weakness like it was a member of our family. She was soft on Mom, so Mom was soft on her. They rubbed each other’s backs and finished each other’s sentences. They never missed a Puzzle Tuesday; they knew I hated puzzles. The two of them seemed like one mind split between two bodies. I tried to win my mother’s affection through achievement, breaking school reading program records and lifeguarding at the local pool. She’d pat me on the back, then return to her puzzle.
When I was six, I lost my first tooth and carefully hid it under my pillow. The tooth fairy never came. By the time Kit lost hers a few years later, I’d discovered who the tooth fairy was, or who was supposed to play her. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on Kit’s face that I knew had been on mine. Since I didn’t have any money, I tucked my favorite toy （a small stuffed elephant that Kit had long coveted） under my sister’s sleeping head, putting her tiny incisor in my pocket. I tried to pick up Mom’s slack wherever I could, putting Eggo waffles in the toaster before school, checking that my sister had finished all her homework and washed her face. Maybe that’s why Kit forgave my mother’s shortcomings; she at least had a childhood.
When a doctor diagnosed Mom with lung cancer three years ago, Kit’s and my fighting intensified. A year after the funeral, Kit announced she was moving to Wisewood. I know the way I’d handled Mom’s illnesses disgusted her. She doesn’t know the half of it. For two years, this virus has been eating me from the inside out.
I watch the cafeteria group disperse. They may appear harmless, but at least one of them has threatened me. I focus, turn to Gordon. “Any idea where Kit is?”
He shakes his head.
I cross my arms, tired of his reticence. “What’s the name of your supervisor?”
He smirks at me. “My what?”
“Who do you report to?”
“We all report to Teacher,” he mocks me.
“If you won’t help, then I want to talk to him.”
His voice drips with condescension. “You know nothing about this place.”
“I’m all ears,” I snap.
“I can tell you’re a woman used to getting her way, but this is not some customer service hotline, where you demand to speak to more and more senior managers until you get what you want. Here we’re all equals. I’ve been here longer than anyone, yet I still attend classes like everyone else.”
I try to interrupt, but he speaks over me. “Teacher is much too busy and important to worry about the likes of you, as are the rest of us. Kit works all over this island. Since she doesn’t wear a tracking device, I don’t know where she is at the moment. In the hope of making your visit as expeditious as possible, I will direct her to your room when I see her next.” He points toward the cabins. “Shall we?”
Arguing with Gordon is a waste of my time; clearly he’s determined to be useless. I’ll scour the grounds on my own instead. If Kit is on staff, I’m bound to run into her. “Where are we going?”