“Okay, class, settle down and let’s get right to it, shall we?” A very large woman with wiry black hair appears in the classroom doorway, and Vince winks at me before he turns back around. The woman is carrying a stack of books under one arm and is looking over the class, especially those of us in the back row. She walks over to her desk, drops the books on one corner, and grabs a giant coffee mug with the words “History is the version of past events that people have decided to agree upon” written on it. She takes a dainty sip and then leans against the back of the desk. She’s breathing heavily after carrying in the books, so it takes a moment before she starts talking again.
“Okay, so as you can see, we have some new students today.” She gestures at us. Heads swivel in our direction. I squirm a little in my seat. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Heather reach for Will’s hand. Julie does the same on his other side. The rest of the class sees. I can hear muffled laughter. Heather doesn’t reach out for my hand and neither does Brian. I’ve effectively broken their support chain by sitting in the midst of them. Good.
“I expect that you will treat our new students with kindness and understanding considering the ordeal that they’ve been through. And I know that I can count on at least some of you to help them get up to speed in the next several weeks.” She picks up a piece of paper from her desk and pulls a pair of glasses from the nest of hair on her head, props them on her nose, and begins to read it. “Will Richardson, Heather Miller, Julie Sturdges, Lyla Hamilton, and Brian Wallace, correct?”
I nod, but the others just stare at her blankly. The staring seems like their default response to everything so far. It’s starting to annoy me.
“Okay, well, I’m Mrs. Cykes, your American History teacher. We’ve been studying the Cuban Missile Crisis this week. If you aren’t familiar with this particular incident, I’d recommend that tonight you go home and read chapter ten in your book to catch yourself up to speed and then complete the questions on pages 272 and 273.” She looks at us over her glasses. “You should be writing this down in your notebooks.”
I lean over my desk and start writing. Pages 272 and 273. Got it. She waits for the others to do the same, but when they don’t her expression goes from stern to slightly unsettled. She eyeballs Brian one more time, takes another measured sip from her mug, then holds up a remote and points it at the television on the wall just above the whiteboard behind her desk. The class starts clapping.
The way the screen goes blue before the program she wants to play comes on makes my stomach flip. It’s like when Pioneer showed us his cobbled-together news footage of a bunch of disasters to convince us that we needed to go into the Silo for good. For a second I can almost smell the cool, slightly musty smell of our meeting room back in Mandrodage Meadows.
“Okay, settle down, settle down, everyone. I expect you to be taking notes during this presentation. There’ll be a quiz directly after it’s over.” She flips the light switch on the wall and plunges the room into darkness. The television screen fills with black-and-white news footage about the Cuban Missile Crisis. I’ve never heard of it before. She turns the volume up and everyone slumps down in their seats. Vince plops his backpack onto his desk and then pulls out a phone and starts running his fingers across it. He’s playing a game, I think. Cody does that with his phone sometimes.
About halfway through class a piece of crumpled-up paper bounces off my desk and lands on Heather’s. She flattens it out and looks at it and then her face goes all red. She hands it to Brian. I crane my neck to see what it says. There’s just one word scrawled large enough for all of us to see.
Freaks.
I look around. Most of the class is turned around in their seats watching us, snickering. Brian starts to get out of his seat, but Will holds him back, shakes his head, then bends over the paper on his own desk and writes something, rips it out of his notebook, and hands it to Brian. Brian’s jaw tenses as he reads, but he doesn’t try to get up again. I turn back around, prop my head on my hand, and try to concentrate on the TV. The hour lasts forever.
Eventually, I get caught up in the story unfolding on the screen, how close America came to a possible nuclear war. I watch as they show students in schools like this one, crouched under desks with their hands over their heads as a siren goes off in the background. One a lot like the one we had. I recognize the fear that I see on their faces—it’s the same fear I felt when we had our drills. It’s so much like what my life has been like for the past ten years that it brings tears to my eyes. And yet this happened more than fifty years ago. And there wasn’t any nuclear bomb, and the world didn’t end. I wonder where those people are now and how long it took before they finally realized that they were safe. How long will it take us?
The bell rings. Mrs. Cykes looks up from the open book at her desk and slowly struggles to get her bulk out of her chair and over to the light switch. Kids start leaving immediately. Vince stands up and makes like he might wait for me, but then Will glares at him and he rethinks it.
Cody’s waiting outside the door for me. I take his arm and hurry us down the hall. I’m not really sure that we’re headed in the right direction, but I want to get away from Will before he can try to start something with Cody again. I can’t get away fast enough.
“Ready for some lunch?” Cody asks. I’ve been so caught up in trying to navigate the school, avoiding the other Community kids, and figuring out the other students and classes that I completely forgot about eating.
“I guess so,” I say. He reaches for my hand.
Will walks by us, but doesn’t say anything to Cody or me. He looks back once and the look on his face … it isn’t full of anger at all now, just sadness. I can’t keep up with his mood swings today. Five minutes ago he looked ready to throw me over his shoulder and haul me out of here. He hurries past with Heather, Julie, and Brian in tow. Brian’s saying something to him in a voice low enough that Will has to lean over to hear it. They’ve got their schedule papers in their hands and are looking down the hallway at the entrance to the cafeteria. The way they’re walking—side by side—reminds me of the way Will, Marie, Brian, and I used to in Mandrodage Meadows, each of us flanking the other like bookends. My heart aches a little in spite of my anger at them. I miss that.
“Is it pretty terrible so far?” Cody asks softly.
I shrug and start to shake my head no, but then think better of it. “Yep, pretty much, but it’s starting to improve.”
Together we follow the others to the cafeteria. There are so many students and so much noise that for the first several minutes I’m completely overwhelmed. I keep a tight hold on Cody’s hand and let him lead me through the various lines. He pushes our trays through the line and I halfheartedly grab stuff. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to eat anything. My stomach’s too knotted up to be hungry. I let my gaze travel the rest of the cafeteria to try to calm myself down. All along the walls are posters for that festival Cody’s mom is working on. I helped her draw them over the Thanksgiving holiday. They look good and they’re attracting a lot of attention. At least one thing I’ve done recently turned out okay.
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” Jack sidles up to me and grabs my arm. I glower at her, but she doesn’t seem to notice or is determined to talk to me in spite of it.
“I just want to borrow your girlfriend for a second, won’t be long,” she says to Cody as she drags me from the line and out the side door of the cafeteria. I’m too shocked that she’s taking me away—and that she called me Cody’s girlfriend—to resist. It’s quieter here, but only marginally. I pull my arm out of hers and cross my arms over my chest. I don’t really want to talk to her. I’m afraid that she’ll use whatever comes out of my mouth to concoct her article for the school paper.
“Listen, I know you think I’m kind of a jerk for taking you down in the supply room and practically forcing an interview on you. And I get it, I’m sorry. I’m not exactly skilled at being subtle. It’s just I get so l
aser focused sometimes, you know?”
I shake my head. I’m not going to make this easy on her. I overrode my ingrained distrust of Outsiders in order to give her a chance earlier, and she’s made me feel stupid for it.
“Look, as much as I want to interview you, I’m not going to harass you about it. Before, I was just thinking about my college applications and how cool an exclusive interview with you would probably look on them. You know—well, actually you probably don’t—it’s kind of tough to get into a good school without something solidly awesome to make you stand out in your transcripts, and of course this type of exclusive would so be that kind of thing for me.…”
I cross my arms and interrupt her. “This is your idea of not harassing me?”
She winces. “Right, sorry. Did I mention that I have diarrhea of the mouth, especially when I’m trying to say I’m sorry?”
I smile in spite of myself. As soon as I do, she relaxes a little.
“It’s fine. I’m not mad. Not really, not if you mean what you’re saying about not harassing me,” I say. I mean it too—mostly. I came here hoping to find my place, some friends. It wouldn’t really make sense if I turn away the first one who seems to be trying … even if she did go about things all wrong at first.
“Good.” She lets out a breath. “So I guess I should let you get back in there.” She turns to head down the hallway and away from the cafeteria. She’s got an apple and a bottle of water poking out of the top of her book bag. I hadn’t noticed them before.
“Wait, where are you going? Don’t you have lunch now too?” I call after her.
She turns around. “Yeah, but I never eat in there. I’ve got an article to finish for this week’s paper and it’s way too loud. Can’t hear myself think. Besides, my dad is always there this time of day. I see him enough at home already.” She grins at me and walks backward for a second before she spins on her heel and lopes away, her boots squeaking as she goes. She turns down the hallway that leads to the supply room she showed me earlier and disappears. She eats her lunch down there?
“Hey, what was that all about?” Cody’s leaning against the door to the cafeteria, balancing a tray in each hand.
“I’m not entirely sure,” I say, “but I think that she’s trying to be friendly.”
Cody grins at me. “Look at you getting all social. Nice.” He waits for me to walk back into the cafeteria and then together we head to the lunch table in the corner, where Vince is sitting with his arm around a fair-haired girl I can only assume is Michelle. I look for Will and the others, but I can’t see them anywhere. I’m not overly surprised. They’re probably huddled together somewhere as far from everyone else as they can get. Good. I can use a break from their constant stares. I settle down at the table and wave at Michelle when Vince introduces us. He launches into a story from when he and Cody were little kids and they tried to wash the inside of the sheriff’s car … with bleach. It isn’t long before both boys are telling story after story, each trying to embarrass the other. I spend most of the next half hour laughing so hard that my stomach aches. Finally, finally, things seem to be looking up.
“So, after school today I kind of have a surprise for you,” Cody says when things quiet down and Vince and Michelle get up to throw out their trash.
“Like what?” I ask, dipping a piece of celery into some salad dressing. The celery is dry on the ends and sort of overly pliable. I make a face and Cody laughs.
“You know the food’s bad when they can’t even get the celery right,” he says. “So, we’ve been hanging around my house for way too long. I was thinking that it’s time I took you out. On a date.”
I look over at him, my celery wilting in my fingers. Some of the salad dressing drips on the table. A date? I grin, a big, silly, over-the-top one. Things really are finally starting to look up.
“Yes, please!” I say eagerly. I think I’m supposed to play it cool … but I just can’t. “So when? Today?”
Cody laughs. “Yes, today. Well, I mean tonight.”
I’ve got homework tonight already—after only one class—and chances are I’ll get more before the day’s out. None of it will probably be easy and I’ll probably have to stay up late now to do it, but I don’t care. Even that sounds awesome, so much like what I’ve heard Outsider life is like that it makes me want to jump up and down. “Okay! Let’s do it,” I tell Cody. I drop the celery back on my tray and abandon the idea of eating anything more. I feel like I could float right out of my seat.
Cody exhales. “I was weirdly nervous just now,” he admits, and I put my hand over his and squeeze it. He leans over and gives me a quick peck on the cheek, right there in front of everyone. I fight the urge to look over my shoulder for Will and the others. This would be the moment that they would choose to reenter the cafeteria. It’s almost enough to make me put some distance between Cody and me like I usually do, but no, I won’t let the Community or Pioneer ruin this. Right now, this moment, I choose to be a normal girl—one with friends, a date, and maybe even a boyfriend. They can’t keep me from any of it, not anymore. I lean up and kiss Cody right back.
Lust will turn her head, but fear will bring her home.
—Pioneer
FOURTEEN
I have no idea what people do on a date. My only frame of reference is the dates in the movies that Pioneer showed us. I wonder what Cody and I will do, how I’m supposed to look, what we’ll talk about. You’d think it wouldn’t seem like a big deal, since I’ve lived with him for a couple of months now, but something about the formality of it, the scheduling, makes me jittery.
I’m sitting on the edge of the sofa in the Crowleys’ family room, freshly showered and primped and stuffed into Taylor’s idea of the perfect date outfit: tight jeans, high-heeled boots, and a V-necked top that she said “showed off my assets.” Cody’s still in his room getting ready. Taylor went in to help him a little while ago. I can’t help wondering what kind of primping she’s putting him through and I start to laugh, but then feel weird because there’s no one nearby to laugh with. I can hear Cody’s mom in the other room chatting with the ladies on her festival committee. They’re busy making wreaths to put up on all the lampposts downtown. The waiting is driving me nuts. If I get any more nervous, I think I might explode when Cody finally comes downstairs, so I wander into the dining room to join them.
“Lyla, honey, you look so pretty!” Cody’s mom says when I walk in. The other ladies look up.
I smile at them and most of them smile back, but there’s one who just purses her lips and pointedly looks away, rummages through the pile of bows at the center of the table. It takes me a minute to recognize her. She was one of the parents with Mrs. Dickerson at school on my first day. I didn’t realize that Cody’s mom was friends with her, but Culver Creek isn’t exactly a huge town, so maybe it’s not that out of the ordinary. Does she know how this woman feels about me?
I start to back out of the room, but then Cody’s mom puts her arm around me. “Want to help out while you wait? We could use an extra pair of hands. Knowing Taylor, Cody could be stuck upstairs for a while.”
I want to say no, but I don’t get the chance. One of the other ladies pushes a wreath into my hands and another slides a set of ornaments and wire across the table until they’re directly in front of me. I watch them for a moment and then pick up an ornament and start securing it to the wreath with the wire. The room smells like cinnamon sticks and fake evergreen, but still, it feels festive and after a few minutes I’ve almost forgotten to be nervous about my upcoming date. I start humming along with the Christmas music.
“You know the song?” one of the ladies asks. She sounds surprised.
“ ‘White Christmas’? Yeah, we play it every year.” It’s only after I say this that I realize that this year we won’t. This year I will spend Christmas outside of the Community. My stomach sinks a little. “Christmas is my favorite time of year. Pioneer …” I trail off for a second when his name flies out of my mouth,
but when Cody’s mom gives me an encouraging look I continue. “We would each get a special gift and sit around the fireplace singing carols and toasting marshmallows.” For a moment the memory is so strong that if I close my eyes I might almost believe that I’m there. Every person in the Community had a stocking hung at the clubhouse and we would spend the whole month of December making sure that each one was filled to the top before Christmas Day. We’d make most of the stuffers—things like hand-knitted scarves and carved wooden keepsake boxes. I’ve always looked forward to seeing what Will or Marie or my parents put in my stocking. As much as I want to be free of the Community, there are all these little things that keep popping into my head when I least expect it, reminding me of all that I’m giving up. As bad as the last few months were, most of my time in Mandrodage Meadows was good.
“I thought you believed in aliens, not Jesus,” Pursed-Lips Lady says. “Christmas is a Christian holiday.
“Really, Kate, that’s not necessary,” one of the other ladies says under her breath.
Kate ignores her, looks at me. “Well? Do you believe in aliens or not?”
I’m so shocked by how angry she seems with me over the idea that I—that we—celebrate Christmas that I don’t know what to say. I guess I don’t believe in the Brethren, but when I try to say this it feels wrong. I left Pioneer, and by default the Brethren too, but this doesn’t mean that I’ve figured out for sure how I feel about them. How do you suddenly stop believing something you’ve believed your whole life?
Kate looks at Cody’s mom when I don’t answer. “You see, she’s still one of them. I can’t believe you took her into your home, Nora. For all you know, she’s spying on you and Stan both. Gathering information for that Pioneer for his trial … or worse. Those people don’t just decide one day to leave. I saw a show once. They need years of counseling to get free, and even then most of them return to their cults. She’s brainwashed, mark my words, and you’re putting your whole family in danger by taking her in.”
Astray (Gated Sequel) Page 12
