Astray (Gated Sequel)

by Amy Christine Parker

  “Lyla!” Cody’s mom calls.

  “Almost ready,” I call as I put my book bag over my shoulder. But even if I’m not, it’s time.

  Fifteen minutes later we’re turning down the long road that leads to Culver Creek High School. I can see a large crowd of people, cars, and news vans—almost as big as the one at the hospital yesterday morning. Cameramen huddle close to the fence that surrounds the school, their cameras pointed out toward the road, at us. It looks like Cody wasn’t the only one who wanted to capture images of my first day of school.

  Taylor slows the car, but she can’t exactly stop or turn around. There’s a long row of cars behind us. She pulls down her visor and checks her face in the tiny mirror. “Looks like we’re about to be on TV, you guys.”

  “Crap,” Cody grumbles from behind me. His hand comes up and taps my shoulder. “Hey … duck down, okay?”

  Immediately I stuff myself into the footwell. Not exactly how I pictured myself arriving on the first day. I pull my head close to the cloth seat and cover my eyes. I can’t see now, but I can still hear the people outside. I don’t move until the car pulls into the lot, beyond the chain-link fence that surrounds the school grounds.

  I lift my head and peek out the window. The sheriff and several deputies are by the fence, near the open entrance, making sure that the media stay outside. They must be so tired of managing all of this. Taylor slows and rolls down her window and Cody’s dad comes over, leans down, and peers in at us.

  Cody says, “What’s up with all of this?” He jerks his head toward the swarm of media pressed against the fence.

  “They found out that the cult kids—sorry, Lyla, the Meadows kids—are starting today.” The sheriff hesitates. “And with Pioneer’s transfer and his first court date coming up, they’re all caught up in the story again. Just park as close to the building as possible and do your best to ignore ’em. They’ll hang around a day or so and then move on if they don’t get what they want. Cody—I’m having your car brought around for later. Can’t have you and Lyla stranded with this circus goin’ on, and Taylor’s gotta work after school.” He leans closer to the car and points at Cody. “But you’re still grounded. Head straight to the station for phone duty after dropping Lyla off this afternoon, understand?”

  Cody nods with mock gravity and for a second I almost feel like laughing. He loves his car. The sheriff just made his whole day—well, almost. If he didn’t have to go to the station to work after school, then it would have been made.

  I can hear the reporters calling to us from behind the fence. The sheriff lingering at our car has made them curious about us.

  “Sheriff, who’s in the car?”

  “Is she in there?”

  “Lyla!”

  “Hey, Little Owl!” When someone shouts this, a ripple of laughter spreads through the crowd. I hate reporters.

  “Roll up the window and get inside,” the sheriff says, purposely putting his back to the row of cameramen so that they can’t get a good angle on the car or us. The reporter’s questions are muffled once Taylor rolls the window back up. I get up off of the car’s floor and sit low in the seat. There are groups of students gathering on the school’s side of the fence now, posing for the cameras. I can’t imagine why they’d want the attention. A few of the kids have noticed me and are pointing at the car; behind them the chain-link fencing bows a little as several reporters lean even harder against it, straining to see.

  Taylor drives forward slowly. Students pass along either side of the car; some tap the hood and laugh, and others lean down and stare in at us. Taylor waves. She seems to be enjoying all of the attention. I just want it all to go away. I’m a sideshow and the day hasn’t even really started. Is it too late to turn around?

  A van is working its way up the road to the school. It’s white and has long scuff marks along its sides. It rolls to a stop before it reaches the entrance when a group of people fan out across the road holding signs. I can’t see what the signs say, but I don’t have to. The people are yelling loud enough to be heard inside the car, even with all the windows rolled up. “No cults in our schools!”

  I watch as several deputies force them off the road. One man struggles to stay and ends up in handcuffs. The shouting gets louder for a moment, but then the deputies manage to subdue the crowd and motion the van through the school’s gates. I stare at it as it slowly passes us. I have enough time to get a good look at the driver. It’s the same guy who was standing with Brian at the hospital. I recognize his dark black hair, trimmed tight to his scalp so that it looks like someone’s peppered his head. There are lots more people behind him, their faces pressed against the glass. It’s Will, Brian, and the others. They stare at me. Julie waves. Before I think better of it, I wave back. It’s hard to see her as anything other than a friend … but the way she talked to that reporter the other morning … I’m not sure that I know this new version of her. Maybe that’s fair. She doesn’t know this new version of me either.

  Suddenly there’s a roar of noise from behind me. The news people have pushed the fence too hard and it’s leaning forward. They’re all shouting and jockeying for a better vantage point. They know that the van has the Community kids in it.

  “Get back!” I hear shouts from several deputies. They rush the fence with their hands on their guns. A string of police cars stream down the road, sirens blaring.

  “They called in the state police,” Cody says. He shakes his head. “What a mess.”

  I follow the van with my eyes as it parks by the school buses. In some ways I almost wish I was in it. I still miss Will and Julie and the others. They were my closest friends. Cody and his family have been really nice and understanding, but they can’t really know what this day is like for me, for all of us. They can never understand the deep pit of mistrust we have to try to bridge just to walk in the school doors.

  I turn around again. A deputy pulls the school’s gate closed. I guess they’ll have to keep opening and closing it all morning until all of the other students arrive. Weird how we left one gated compound only to enter another one. Why does the school even need a fence and gate like this? Who are they trying to keep out?

  “Later. Good luck today, Lyla,” Taylor says as she gathers up her things and rushes across the lot. She’s got a thin cropped leather jacket on—her favorite. She refuses to wear anything warmer even if it is freezing, and so she just runs from the car every time we go out somewhere. I watch her weave through cars, her high-heeled boots clicking across the blacktop.

  Cody hands me my bag and then grabs my hand and together we walk toward the large set of glass doors that lead into the school. The building reminds me a lot of the hospital, all glass and concrete. There’s nothing warm or inviting about it, not like our clubhouse back home with its knotty-pine walls and large front porch lined with planters full of bright-colored flowers. Dozens of other students stream past us to the entrance. Some of them wave to Cody. All of them stare at me, not bothering to be discreet about it. At first I try smiling at them, but this seems to make them stare even more, so I concentrate on the school building again.

  We have to walk past all of the school buses and then the van to get inside. I see Will looking out of one of the windows. I raise my hand to wave, hoping even after yesterday that things are still okay between us. He looks at me and his mouth turns up at the corners. I beam up at him. I have Cody and Will to lean on today. I can do this. But then Will’s eyes drift over to where Cody’s standing beside me … and then to Cody’s hand, which is still covering mine. His smile falters. It’s like watching a flower dry up and curl in on itself. I try not to fidget my hand out from under Cody’s. It’s too late now anyway. Maybe Will really has forgiven me for what happened with Pioneer, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll ever be okay about Cody. I was his Intended. He was convinced that we should get married—and I guess maybe for a time I was too, but that was before I met Cody. Now I know that we will never be anything more than just frie
nds. I only hope that someday soon it’ll be enough for him.

  Will and the rest of the kids file out of the van and gather by a man in a pair of khakis that are a bit too snug around the middle and too short at the ankles. His shirt is straining at the buttons. Everything on him is too small, even the hair on his head. He’s deep in discussion with a small group of women. Whatever the conversation’s about, it doesn’t look like a good one. He looks agitated.

  I study the women. They look familiar. Especially the one talking. The white scarf and brown coat—it’s that Dickerson lady. Oh no.

  “It isn’t safe to have our children around them.” She folds her arms across her chest and taps one foot against the concrete. “They’re brainwashed, for God’s sake! They could be programmed to attack everyone. Mark my words, having them anywhere near this school—or this town for that matter—is inviting trouble.”

  The ladies standing with her nod their agreement.

  “We’ll pull our kids out, Ned. I can’t leave my child here knowing that at any moment those people might decide to take the end of the world into their own hands.” Her voice is stronger now that the others are nodding violently.

  “Ladies, please, try to calm down. I’ve consulted their counselors and done a good bit of research. They’re not a threat. We’ve spent the last two months making sure. They’ve been cleared to attend by the school board. Their leader was the dangerous one and he’s behind bars. But just to put everyone at ease, I’ve talked to the sheriff and he’s agreed to leave some deputies with us today and for as long as it takes until the Meadows kids get settled in. Your children will be perfectly safe.”

  Mrs. Dickerson makes a disgusted sound in her throat. “We aren’t the only parents who don’t want this.” She gestures toward the people out past the fence holding signs. “At the next board meeting we’ll be bringing it up again and at the one after that and the one after that. We won’t just lie back and let this happen. You’re in for a battle, Ned. We don’t want them here. And if you know what’s good for your career, you shouldn’t either.”

  The man’s eyebrows knit together, but he doesn’t back down. “I’m sorry that you feel that way, ladies. Now you’ll have to excuse me. The bell’s about to ring.” The man walks away from them. His lips are pressed so tightly together they’ve turned white.

  The women’s heads swivel in our direction. I don’t like the way they frown at me. There is so much hate in their faces. It makes me want to hide behind Cody. Out of nowhere lyrics from that song play through my head.

  Come back to the fold … before your body goes cold … There’s no safe place for you to roam …

  Is this what they meant? Are these ladies and the people down by the fence going to come after me? After all of us?

  I watch as the women shake their heads in disgust and turn away. I press my bag close to my chest and squeeze Cody’s hand a little tighter.

  “Principal Geddy.” Cody nods in the man’s direction. “Slightly clueless for the most part, but he means well. And that woman—Mrs. Dickerson—is the head of the PTA. The others are her assorted minions.” Cody rolls his eyes. “She’s always upset about something. A few months ago it was the snacks in the school’s vending machines. She’ll find something other than you guys to rail against in a few weeks, trust me.” I nod, but somehow I don’t think even he believes this.

  A crowd of students is starting to gather. I watch as Will and the rest of the Meadows kids huddle together, their eyes trained on the ground. They seem to be trying to ignore the growing crowd, but there’s no way that they can. There are just too many of them. Brian’s hands are clenched at his side—as are Will’s. Heather and Julie have their arms linked. I start to move forward to say something—hi, maybe? Brian looks up when I try, and his face is so full of anger that it stops me cold. Julie sees his glare and her smile falters a little—her face turning from his to mine—before she forces it back into place.

  “Lyla. We missed you on the bus,” she says brightly.

  I don’t like the way she looks. Her eyes are so vacant. It’s eerie.

  Principal Geddy clears his throat loudly. He runs a hand over his rounded belly and adjusts his tie. “Okay, if I can have your attention, everyone. I’m Principal Geddy and I’d like to welcome you to Culver Creek High. Now, I realize that all of this will seem a little overwhelming at first, but we will do our best to make it as easy a transition for you as possible. So. Shall we get started?”

  He looks over each of us and smiles warmly. It reminds me a little of how Pioneer used to look at us sometimes. It makes me want to back away from him.

  “If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you inside to our media center. Too cold to be out here much longer.” He smiles so wide that his teeth show. He isn’t wearing a coat like the rest of us, just a wool blazer. He tries to pull it closed around his middle, but it doesn’t quite reach.

  No one moves. The students and parents surrounding us are quiet. Gaping. Principal Geddy’s smile slips a little and he clears his throat again. He looks around until his gaze settles on me.

  “Lyla Hamilton? That’s your name, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say. I fight the urge to duck behind Cody.

  “It’s good to have you with us. Doing what you did, standing up to your … Pioneer?”

  I cringe.

  “Shows you have real leadership potential. I’d like to see you develop that while you’re here. Maybe help the others to acclimate,” Principal Geddy says. His head gives a little involuntary nod in the direction of the rest of the Community kids.

  I almost laugh out loud. Me, help them acclimate? I’m not even sure how I’m going to acclimate myself.

  Principal Geddy doesn’t seem to notice my reluctance. He’s too busy rushing for the door and the promise of warmth. He holds the door open for all of us, clapping several kids on the back as they pass by. Each one of them jumps and scurries away. Without their parents and Pioneer, they look so lost.

  As soon as we’re all inside, Principal Geddy pulls the door shut and turns to Cody. “Okay, son, bell’s about to ring. You can make your way to your classes now. She’ll be fine.” When Cody starts to object, he cuts him off. “Leave Lyla to me, I’ll take good care of her. Now go on before Mrs. Abbott marks you tardy.”

  I don’t want him to leave, but I don’t want to get him into trouble either, so I just shrug and try to look unconcerned. “I’ll see you later?”

  Cody nods and turns to go but stops before he’s taken two steps. “I’ll come get you at the end of the day. Promise.”

  Principal Geddy puts a hand on my back and I flinch. Cody waves once and then slowly turns and disappears into a crowd of students all rushing to get to class before the bell rings. The rest of the Meadows kids turn and follow the principal and me toward yet another set of glass double doors at the end of the hallway. I can feel their eyes on my back. My skin feels itchy and my face gets hot. I don’t want to turn and actually meet their eyes in case they’re glaring at me like Brian—or worse, grinning blankly like Julie. Before I left this morning, I was mostly worried about being with the Outsider kids; now I’m more worried about being with the ones I’ve known my whole life.

  Evil is easy to spot when you’re looking for it.

  —Heather Lewis, member of the Community

  FIVE

  The media center turns out to be a library with rows and rows of books. At its center are a dozen or so rectangular tables. This is where Principal Geddy has us settle. Now, this place reminds me in some ways of our lesson room at the clubhouse. Same dusty paper smell mixed with hints of carpet, cloth, and leather. I’ve always liked this smell. Even now it has the power to calm me, but somehow I don’t think it’s working for anyone else. Tension radiates off of them. The quiet is complete and almost alive.

  “Please, everyone, find a seat,” Principal Geddy says.

  I don’t know where to sit. I try to catch Heather’s eye, but I don’t like the way she
looks at me. She’s got the same vacant robotic smile pasted across her face as Julie. Both of them motion me over, but I look away. I can’t sit with them when they look like that. I sway in place, not sure which table to go to or if I should just settle next to the bookshelves on the floor. Finally, Will sighs and shakes his head. He uses his foot to push out the empty chair beside him. Brian’s sitting on his other side, and he shoots me an annoyed look before getting up to move to Heather and Julie’s table. I almost walk away and sit by myself at the far end of the room despite Will’s invitation—I don’t want Brian to get mad at him too—but then Principal Geddy clears his throat and cuts his eyes toward the chair next to Will. He’s smiling, but underneath it I can see that he’s impatient for me to sit so he can get started. I slide into the chair. Will doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t look at me either. He’s obviously still upset about Cody. I want to talk to him about it, but I have no idea what words might make things better.

  We spend the next hour listening to Geddy drone on and on about the school. His gaze passes over us continually without stopping as he talks. We make him nervous, I think. I try to listen to him, but I can’t help focusing on the rows of books instead. There are so many! More than I’ve ever seen in one place. And on the far wall are dozens of magazines, and beyond them, computers. So many things that were once off-limits are now less than three feet away from where I sit.

  When Geddy finishes talking, a woman comes over to take his place. I hadn’t really noticed her before this moment. There was just too much to take in.

  “My name is Mrs. Ward. I’m one of the counselors here at Culver Creek.”