“Is it Kit Collins?” I ask.
Their mouths fall open.
“I’m trying to find her. Do you know where she is?”
Georgina examines me. “You’re on the hunt for all kinds of people here.”
I shrug.
“How do you know Kit?”
I don’t answer, turn to April.
“We don’t see her much anymore,” she says. “But her cabin is number four.”
The innermost ring. I didn’t get that far during my search. I rise from the table, taking my tray with me. “Nice to meet you both.” I glance at Chloe. “See you around.”
“We should take a class together,” Chloe says.
I think of the scream from the forest earlier. Hard pass on any self-help reminiscent of The Blair Witch Project. “Sure, we’ll see.”
I imagine the puzzled expressions they must be sharing after my abrupt departure but am too elated to care. I dump my plate and tray in the kitchen and hurry out of the cafeteria back into the feral night. Stars fall from the sky, rushing toward me. Dizzily, I realize they’re snow. From here I can’t pinpoint the thousands of flecks holding up the black sky, can’t distinguish star from snowflake.
Someone has recently shoveled the paths, but already new powder coats the stone. As fast as I can in heavy boots, I run along the walkways to the circles of cabins, then weave my way through the rings, feeling watched, naked. Each house has an exterior light illuminating the number on the building. I rush past one, two, and three, stopping short at four. My arms shake as I raise a fist to the door. I knock and hold my breath.
Inside Kit will be sitting on the bed with her legs tucked under her, fuzzy red socks on her feet. Now she’ll be putting her version of a bookmark （an old receipt or scrap of toilet paper） in that cream-colored paperback she’s read a million times. She’ll be wearing boxer shorts and two sweaters but will throw on a third before answering. Whatever awaits her on the other side of the door, she will be up for it. She always is.
But I hear no padding of footsteps. The door doesn’t swing open. No light leaks from the room. I knock again, louder this time. Still nothing. “Shit.”
I walk around the side of the building toward the window at the rear, gripping my hat as the wind rages. Not bothering with discretion, I cup my hands around my eyes and put my nose up to the glass. I can barely see, but what I can make out is tidy, like in every other room. I wait for my eyes to adjust, desperate to identify something as hers, but other than a bath towel laid over the back of the desk chair, the room doesn’t even appear lived in.
I blink several times, exhausted. My eyes are dry from the wind. I’ve spent most of the day unable to feel my fingers and toes. I have no idea where the nearest staff member is and, based on my experience so far, doubt they’d help me anyway. It’s time to call it quits. Tomorrow I will find this Rebecca person and demand to see my sister. I will find Kit no matter what, come clean, let her call me every name in the book and vow never to speak to me again. I will accept whatever punishment she deems appropriate. Maybe then I’ll stop dreaming that my rib cage is caving in, quit picking my cuticles until they bleed.
Behind me, a twig cracks. I whirl around at the same time a dark figure darts behind a cabin. Through the snowfall I can’t make out any attributes other than short and fit, definitely a man. Gordon? Was he the one peeping in my window earlier? I step toward him, acting braver than I feel. When I round the corner, he’s gone.
I spin 360 degrees but don’t see him, circle the nearby cabins but still can’t find him. Where has he gone? Why was he watching me? Is he still out here?
The courage I summoned in my cabin fails me in the darkness. I run back to my room, number sixteen. When I reach the welcome mat, I fish for the key card in my pocket. I pause. Light spills out from under the door. I try to remember whether I left a lamp on. I couldn’t have; the key card switch powers the lights in the room. I put my ear to the door, and the room is silent.
I don’t know the policies in this place. Maybe they have automatic lights that activate after dark or someone is doing turndown service, though I doubt it. Or maybe the person who broke into my room earlier is in there right now.
I put my key to the reader while the wind beats my back, unrelenting. The door unlocks. I take a deep breath, shudder, and push it open. When I step inside, I screech.
Sitting on my bed, eyes glowing, is my sister.
II
As long as I fear, I cannot be free.
WHY I’M APPLYING