She stood there, waiting.
I rose on shaky legs and made my way toward her.
Her eyes sparkled. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
17
Kit
JULY 2019
“ALL I’M SAYING is it’s a little weird,” Georgina said, “that she doesn’t follow the rules she made up.”
April shrugged. “Rebecca’s been doing this a lot longer than we have. The no-touching rule might not serve her anymore.”
I considered this as my friends and I left the cafeteria after breakfast. My first meeting with Rebecca had been two days ago. After forty-eight hours of reflection, I’d concluded that Wisewood’s leader was offbeat—but in a good way. Sure, she broke her own rules, but she was so confident in what she’d built here, so sure of my potential. I couldn’t believe she pored over me and saw something besides failure.
I wanted to be that tidal wave.
“That’s true.” Georgina shielded her eyes from the sun. Thick, muggy air glued my long hair to the back of my neck. “I came this close to crying during my session, so she must be onto something.” She paused, thinking. “God, I haven’t cried since that bitch Kim Johnson told everyone I had an eating disorder.”
“What made you so upset?” April asked.
“For one, the entire school called me Purge-gina for months. It was a crock of shit, obviously.”
“I mean yesterday,” April said. “With Rebecca.”
Georgina shrugged, avoiding our gazes. “I gotta go. Wouldn’t want to be late for chores.” She pulled a goofy face and waved goodbye.
April and I watched her disappear inside Rebecca’s house, then headed toward the northwest corner of the island for class. We fanned ourselves as we walked, talking about nothing, laughing at newly formed inside jokes. I felt like I’d known her forever.
A few minutes later we’d reached the class trailer. April grabbed the door handle. Before I followed her inside, a flash of movement near the hedge caught my eye. I turned to see a segment of the wall open—I hadn’t realized it had doors. Gordon walked through the entryway. I stared. During the grounds tour, we’d been told there was nothing beyond the hedge but a forest. So what was he doing out there? Gordon locked the door behind him, then turned to glower at me like he’d known all along that I was watching.
I averted my eyes—heart racing, face flushed—but the damage was done. He’d definitely seen me. I scurried into the trailer behind April.
The air inside the room was even more humid, like the windows hadn’t been opened in weeks. Floor pillows, grouped in twos, had replaced the chairs. The other guests were chatting among themselves.
Ruth greeted us warmly. “Go ahead and mingle while we wait for a couple other students.”
April turned to two twenty-something guys. One of them was Sanderson, the ferry driver whom I had yet to see without his hood pulled up, even in this heat. He had been chatty enough on the boat, so when I spotted him weeding the vegetable garden the other day, I’d kneeled beside him and struck up a conversation. While we worked, I learned that he’d come here after getting kicked out of multiple rehab programs, that even after three years at Wisewood he still harbored guilt for the way he’d taken advantage of his parents. His voice quavered when he talked about his mom, so I didn’t push the subject. He told me at least four times how much he loved Wisewood.
Before I could join April and the guys, a man and woman in their forties approached me. He wore a Cleveland Cavaliers baseball cap, was portly with a thick but neatly trimmed beard. “Maximized day. I’m Jeremiah.”
The woman was bald with a mild twitch on the left side of her face. “And I’m Sofia.” She fidgeted like a teenager on a first date.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Kit.”
Jeremiah lifted and resettled the hat. I glimpsed bare skin, wondered whether he was bald too. “You enjoying Wisewood so far?” I nodded. “Good. I’ve only been here a few months but can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“Oh, same,” Sofia said with wide eyes. “I joined three and a half years ago. I provide basic medical care here.”
“She’s being modest.” Jeremiah grinned. “Sofia is a brilliant doctor.”
“I did good work at Tufts, but I wish I’d come home to Wisewood sooner. Lots of overworked and exhausted years out there.” She gestured toward the trailer door, like an unsustainable workweek was hunting her beyond it.