A few people gasped, everyone but Teacher shocked. With complete control, Gordon removed the phone from the mount, collapsed the tripod, tucked it under his arm, and walked out of the schoolhouse, letting the door bang closed.
“Should we go after him?” Ruth asked Teacher, worried.
Teacher patted Ruth’s arm. “Leave him be.” She returned to the front of the room, began pacing again. “More so than before, you understand the dangers of the outside world. Make our guests—your students—see how stunted their lives were before they came. Remind them they’re much safer here than they ever were out there. When guests leave Wisewood, they do so at their own peril. They return to abuse, abandonment, even death. But when they stay, we can watch over them, bring those with the most promise into the fold. Like we’ve done with Kit.” She softened. “Congratulations on passing your q1, Kitten.”
The applause this time turned into a standing ovation. I blushed, trying to shake off my apprehension. It wasn’t like the recording would ever see the light of day. So what if I’d exaggerated the details—I had completed my q1!
Yet even as I delivered a short thank-you speech, even as the rest of the IC cheered my name, a vague disquiet coursed through me. For the first time in a long time I yearned for my sister.
“One more thing before you join IC ranks,” Teacher said with a wink.
Raeanne grinned and stepped forward with a pair of electric clippers.
34
Natalie
JANUARY 9, 2020
FOR HOURS I wait in Kit’s cabin, dreading her return. By dinnertime she and Gordon still haven’t turned up, but the promised storm has. Slushy snow pelts the island, then changes its mind and turns to hail. I stop in my room before heading to the cafeteria to eat with Chloe, who sits with a few guests her age. After dinner the kids invite me to a “feelings circle” in one of their rooms. I tell them thanks but I’d rather have rattlesnake venom injected into my gums.
Instead I decide to find Kit.
I’ve been waiting for the right moment to come clean with her when the reality is there won’t be one. There is no perfect setting or situation to deliver news that will shatter your sister, not to mention that in the twenty-four hours I’ve been here, I’ve spent the entire time distracted and looking over my shoulder. The sense of being watched, of eyes unseen, is omnipresent. As soon as I get this off my chest, I can go home. Before something worse happens.
I pull the hood of my parka over my head and brace myself as I leave the cafeteria. When I see how hard the hail is coming down, I pick up my pace. I’ve almost reached the cabins when a pellet shoots me in the back. I yelp.
I hurry around the innermost ring to room number four and pound on the door so Kit will hear me over the storm. I take shelter under the skimpy overhang while I wait. Kit doesn’t answer. I knock again. Still she doesn’t come to the door. I run around the other side of the building and peek inside.
She isn’t here.
A tremble that starts in my shoulders spreads to my arms and legs.
Where is she? Where is my sister weathering this storm? What if she’s stuck at sea with Gordon? Maybe she couldn’t stop him from leaving. What if their boat capsized? I picture her being tossed around in the water like a piece of driftwood, shredded to unrecognizable pieces.
I bow my head, negotiate with a presence I badly want to be listening.
Take whatever you want. My job, my apartment, my health. Just don’t touch a hair on her head.
Thirty seconds later, I’m back in my cabin. Hail bounces off the roof. I walk to the window and peer out. No one there.
I kneel next to the bed and reach my hand between the mattress and frame, keeping an eye on the window. I scoot over an inch or two, grasping at nothing. I glance from the window to the bed, lifting the entire right side of the mattress off the frame.
My phone isn’t there.
I drop my forehead to the floor. It isn’t under the bed. I shake out the sheets, comforter, and pillowcases. It isn’t in the bed. I check the nightstand and desk drawers, though I know I didn’t hide it there.
The crystal clear memory of a couple of hours ago plays as I ransack the room. I came straight from Kit’s cabin to mine and deposited my phone in between the mattress and frame, practically in the middle of the bed. The phone couldn’t have been spotted unless someone was searching for it. Or watching from the window when I stashed it. I whip my head toward the panes, but they’re all empty. I swallow.
I try to recall whether the contract had any clauses about confiscating belongings, but I skimmed it too quickly. I might’ve agreed to being robbed. I turn over my purse and duffel bag, letting the contents of each spill onto the floor. I search every pocket, every inch of the room.