I try again, this time tightening my stomach and leaning forward to try to compensate for the extra weight behind me. I’m able to balance and take the second step. I pull myself up again, feeling a muscle wrench in my lower back.
One step left—less than one foot high—and it might as well be ten. I know I’m going to cry. Using all my remaining strength, I place my right foot on the plank and heave my body up and over into the bed. I groan as I feel the rocks land on top of me as I hit the mattress.
“See you tomorrow,” Solomon says. “I look forward to continuing our conversation.”
I roll to my right, and the rocks fall to the side. Suddenly the siege on my body ends, a thumb lifted from a moth.
I fall into a painful, fitful sleep.
Twenty-One
I wake to the sounds of giggles. When I open my eyes, faces stare up at me. I can’t remember where I am for a moment, but the pain in my back soon reminds me.
“It’s awake.” It’s Connie from session yesterday, the pretty one with the beaky nose.
“Terrific,” says another girl dryly.
“I was about to poke it with a stick, make sure it was alive,” Connie says.
More giggles.
I sit up. My body hurts in ways I’ve never known.
“Tsk, tsk,” says Connie. “Keep that backpack on!”
Looking down, I see the backpack lying beside me. I must have wiggled out of it in my sleep.
“Leave her alone, Connie,” says Mary, the heavy girl with buttery skin who was also in session yesterday. “I seem to remember you wearing a backpack for weeks.”
Connie shoots Mary a look of death. “Shut up, Meatball.”
“Whatever,” says Mary. “Go peck at some grain.”
“Let’s go to session,” Connie tells the other girls.
As soon as Connie and her friends have left, Mary says, “You okay?”
I frown.
“‘Okay’ is about as good as it gets in this Hellhole,” she says.
“What time is breakfast?” I’m absolutely starving.
“We have to go to session first. It blows.”
I smile weakly.
“But here, I have a roll I stole a few days ago. It’s a little stale but . . .” She reaches under the mattress of her bunk and pulls out a sad looking piece of bread.
“Thank you so much.” Even covered in dust, it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. I wonder how I can ever pay her back.
“No problem. I keep food here for just this purpose. They really break newcomers down with the whole starvation thing.”
I want to ask why she’s here, how such a nice girl could have ended up in such an awful place, but my instinct tells me it might be rude.
“We need to get going,” she says. “Session starts soon.”
Startled, I reach for the backpack. My shoulders sting with the movement. I lay on the bed and put on the straps.
“I can help you get down, but you have to keep the backpack on. Sorry,” says Mary.
I’m not worried about getting down the ladder. I’m worried about sitting up. “I just need a second.”
Telling myself that the first time I get up today will be the worst, I slowly scoot down to the edge of the bed and put my feet on the ladder. I count to three, inhale, and lift. My stomach contracts, every muscle lighting up with pain. I strained this same way yesterday, and my body hasn’t forgotten.
Despite the agony, I’m now sitting up. I carefully turn around to step down the ladder. Mary stands underneath me, putting her hands on the pack and taking off some of the weight. There’s no way I could do it without her.
Safely on the floor, I ask, “Did you have to wear a backpack?”
She looks unsure of herself for the first time. “No, I, uh, got something else.”
“Do you not want to talk about it?” I ask.
“Not really.”
“Okay,” I say, knowing there are lots of things I don’t necessarily want to share with her.
As we leave the room, I ask, “Are we going far?” I want to know how long I have to endure walking with the rocks.
“Not really,” Mary says, with an understanding tone.
She explains the layout of the building as we walk down the hall. “There are two girls’ dorms but four for the boys. I guess boys just get in more trouble. We all eat in the same cafeteria, and you can sit with the boys, but never one-on-one.” She rolls her eyes. “We have a community room with some really lame games—the ones you played when you were, like, eight—and there’s a reading room with maybe three approved books. The bathrooms are skeevy, and you’re going to feel like you’ll never have privacy again. The food is barfy, and the sessions are complete twaddle. Welcome to the Forgotten Home!”
The whole thing is smaller than I pictured it. I thought it would be a massive prison, like the Tunnel, but it’s not much bigger than the basement of Macy’s.
Almost everyone I’ve seen is a teenager, but there are a few younger kids. What could they have done to get them here? They look scared and puffy-eyed. Poor little things.
“This whole place used to be some sort of gym/neighborhood center,” Mary says, “which explains why it smells like used socks and BO.”
I smile. The air does seem strangely thick with sweat.
We pass a tall man in purple who eyes us suspiciously.
“There are always two Sentries on duty,” Mary whispers. “You don’t have to worry about them. Just don’t start a fight or run for the door.”
The Sentry’s grim face makes me squirm. At least, unlike Twitchers, he doesn’t appear to be armed.
We pass an office with an open door, and Solomon sits in a chair staring into the distance. Maybe he has a Tact? I turn quickly away but not before noticing that the window behind him has a view of a forest. Where are we?
With my head turned toward Solomon’s office, I don’t notice Juda approaching me until his hand is around my wrist. Where did he come from? Before I know what’s happening, he’s leading me away from Mary.
Mary is alarmed, but I give her a quick smile to let her know I’m safe. Juda guides me into a new hall, turning into an empty room full of plain tables, couches and chairs. Glass panels act as walls on either side of the entrance.
Shutting the door, he presses us both behind it, so we can’t be seen from the hallway. As he presses against me, I wince at the pain from my back but am far too excited to see him to care.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yes. Are you—?”
“Can I kiss you?” he says.
“Yes,” I say.
Before I can ask him any of the million questions I have for him, he leans in and places his lips on mine. His breath is warm, and his mouth tastes like honey, just like I remember.
I kiss him back.
I seem to relax and wake up at the same time. Is that possible? I wrap my arms around his waist.
He whispers, “I was so worried.”
“Me too,” I say.
He pulls me in closer, but it’s very awkward with the backpack.
“You look different,” he says, stroking my hair.
I touch my bangs self-consciously.
“You look good,” he says. “Healthy.”
I don’t feel healthy. After my time with Solomon, I feel beat up and wiped out.
“You look the same,” I say, resting my head on his chest. We’re in this horrible place, and I’m carrying rocks, but standing here listening to his steady heartbeat, I’m calm. His presence has always made me feel like everything will be okay. I close my eyes and breathe him in. “I missed this,” I say.
He kisses the top of my head.
We stand there, absorbing each other’s warmth, until he sighs, saying, “We need to get to session.”
“Do we have to?” I whine, looking up at him.
He smiles the first real Juda smile I’ve seen since I arrived. “Who knew this is where the bull and the boar would end up?” h
e says.
I stroke an invisible beard, in imitation of my father. “Probably not too surprising. They are very stubborn animals.”
He kisses me again, and warmth surges down my body.
“We have to go,” he says, pulling away.
“But––”
He opens the door, checking the hallway. Before I walk out, he says, “Go down the hall, and it’s the first door on the left. I’ll wait, so we don’t walk in together.”
Reluctantly, I leave him.
When I walk into session, I must be pink from head to toe. Mary wiggles her eyebrows at me while I take my seat next to Kalyb. I refuse to look at her again. I perch uncomfortably on the edge of my chair to accommodate the backpack.
Moments later, Juda walks in, looking bored. I want to laugh at his change in demeanor. I want to laugh at everything. I can’t believe how much happier I am than I was just ten minutes ago.
I’m so happy, in fact, that at first I don’t notice the new member of our group.
Silas.
He’s sitting on Kalyb's left, looking pale and ill. His brow is furrowed, and his lips are pursed in hostility.
Before I can ask him what’s happened, Kalyb begins talking. “Good morning. I hope everyone had a good night’s sleep. Some of you might know Silas. Please say hello.”
“Hello, Silas,” the group says without enthusiasm.
“Who wants to start today?” Kalyb asks.
There’s a long silence.
“Mina, do you have anything to share?” he says.
I search my brain for something that Solomon said the day before that might be useful. “Uh, God is ready to hear my sins, and, uh, God loves humility.”
“Very good, Mina.”
Session continues in a manner very similar to yesterday. Kalyb asks various people questions, and we answer in the way that we think will make him happy. It seems very obvious that we’re all saying whatever will please him. Does he not notice or not care? Mary is good at it today, sounding penitent and sad, but the second Kalyb looks away, she rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue. It’s hard for me not to laugh.
Silas stares at the floor the whole time.
“Ruth has told me that she’s having trouble sleeping. Anyone else?” Without waiting for an answer, Kalyb continues. “I have a peace and relaxation method that can help you.” He looks around, hoping for enthusiasm. “First, you need to breath in and out as slowly as you can.”
My breathing starts to slow down on its own.
“You can count your breaths to relax, but I prefer to concentrate on the different parts of my body.”
I don’t even have to look at Mary to know she’s smirking. No one wants to concentrate on Kalyb’s wrinkly parts.
Kalyb’s voice is now a whisper. “I think, Toes, knees, stomach, chin, nose, forehead, and then back down again. It’s important to physically concentrate on those body parts while you think about them. It makes it much easier to stay focused. Let’s all try it now with our eyes closed.”
People sigh and giggle, but eventually we all close our eyes. Kalyb continues to whisper: “It’s important to start by acknowledging all the sounds and distractions in the room. Once you have tallied the distractions, it’s easier to set them aside and concentrate.”
I check for everything in the room that’s affecting my senses: sounds, smells, the pain in my back, the vibrations in the floor, the thought of Juda just feet away. Once I feel I’ve accepted every last distraction, I start thinking about my body. I resist it at first, because I feel the pain of the rocks more acutely.
I listen to Kalyb’s voice: “toes, knees, stomach, chin, nose, forehead . . .” When Kalyb suggests it, I imagine a feather lightly touching each place. Nose. Chin. Shoulders. Stomach. Thighs. As I center on different areas, I’m able to take the focus off of my pain.
We do it over and over.
The feather in my mind is replaced by Juda’s hands.
I shake my head. Concentrate, Mina.
Many minutes pass by. Finally, Kalyb tells us we can open our eyes. When I do, I feel as if I actually took the backpack off for a while.
I smile goofily. Juda does, too.
I glance at Silas, who still scowls. I make my face neutral again. Why is he here?
When session is finally over, Kalyb tells me, “Be in the dorm after lunch. I’ll walk you to my office for our consultation.” He smiles as if the meeting were going to be the answer to all of my dreams.
Nodding quickly, I hurry after Silas, trying to grab his arm.
“Please, leave me alone,” he says.
The others stare, so I let go, but I follow him out the door. “Silas, what’s going on?”
He stops in the hall while other session members file past him. “You know.”
“Is Tabby here too?” Maybe they’re in trouble for coming up with the idea for the prank?
“No. Just me. The greatest sinner of them all.” Shaking his head and looking everywhere but at me, he says, “You ruined everything.”
All at once, Juda stands between us, a hand on Silas’ chest.
“This must be Juda,” Silas says, sighing.
“Who is this?” Juda asks, rising to his full height.
“This is Silas,” I say quietly. “He’s part of the family I live with.”
“You live with him?” Juda says, clearly unhappy.
“Don’t worry,” says Silas. “I won’t be going home any time soon.” He scuttles down the hall.
“What was that about?” Juda asks.
“I have no idea why he’s here,” I say, “but I’m afraid it’s my fault. I should talk to him.” I start to follow Silas.
“Wait,” says Juda. “Do you have feelings for this guy?”
“It’s not like that,” I say, turning around but feeling impatient. “I went to Prom with him to find out where you were and then—”
Juda’s face scrunches. “You went to a dance with him?”
“Not like that. It’s complicated, and I can explain, but right now, I really need to find out what happened. I’ll find you later. I promise.”
“Whatever,” he says, hurrying away.
When something good happens to me, how do I always manage to screw it up? One minute Juda and I are kissing and the next he’s darting off like I’ve got a pocketful of rats.
Why are boys so exhausting?
Twenty-Two
I walk down the hallway as fast as I can manage with the backpack. I hear a loud bang and turn to see the metal door that leads to the courtyard has just closed. Would Silas have gone out there?
I push open the heavy door, afraid that Solomon’s horrid face will greet me, but instead, I see Silas crouched in the far corner of the courtyard, head in hands.
I double-check that the rest of the enclosure is empty. My feet crunch loudly on the gravel, but Silas doesn’t look up. Lowering myself with difficulty, I sit next to him on the ground. “Why are you here?”
He looks up, eyes red, eyelashes wet. “It was working. Everything was fine. Then you had to go blab to Solomon!”
“Blab about what?” I want to understand, but I’m losing patience. What did I do?
Picking up several small rocks, he throws them across the courtyard. “You told them you weren’t my girlfriend!” he says, as if I’m stupid.
“But I’m not.”
“Everyone believed you were! Even my parents.”
“But you knew it wasn’t true. I told you I loved someone else.”
“They’ll punish me. They’ll . . .” As he trails off, his eyes fill. “I’m finished. They’ll never let me out now.”
“Because you don’t have a girlfriend?” I ask, more confused than ever by the rules of the Unbound.
“No. Because . . .” He looks at me with such sadness I want to cry, too. “Because I like boys.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I say, relieved. “Don’t your parents want you to have friends?”
“Mina,” he
says, irritated. “I like boys. I don’t like girls.”
I don’t know what my face looks like as I try to process the information. I hear his words, but they don’t make sense to me.
“Let me guess,” he says. “In Manhattan there are no molleys.”
“Women named Molly?”
He smirks. “No.”
“I . . . uh . . . a ‘molley’ is a boy who likes boys?”
“You get smarter every second.”
I am way out of my depth. I’ve never heard of a boy who isn’t attracted to girls. It sounds odd, and if I’m honest, not quite right.
“You should go back inside,” he says.
“I want to understand.”
“I don’t really have the patience right now to explain the history of homosexuality to a woolie.”
My face goes hot. “Stop being nasty to me! You spread a lie about us without telling me or explaining why. You have no one to blame but yourself!”
“She has teeth,” he says with surprise. “Finally.”
I slump back against the wall, trying to relieve some of the burden of the backpack. “What will they do to you?”
Staring straight ahead, he whispers, “I don’t know. This is my third time here.”
Third?
“When I was five, my best friend was this kid named Eli. I wanted to be with him ALL the time. And he wanted to be with me. My father caught us holding hands one day . . .”
“And he sent you here?”
He nods.
I picture a five-year-old boy wearing rocks on his back, while Solomon screams in his face. Sadness descends on me like fog.
He pushes his bangs out of his eyes. “The second time was last year. I wasn’t showing enough, um, interest in the girls at school.”
Interest? I’m not sure what this means. At home, young men talk about marriage and families, but they would never express interest directly to a girl—only to her parents.
“Did the girls complain?” I ask.
He laughs. “Hardly, but I was being watched closely through my Bee. The Elders decided I didn’t notice girls enough—stare at them or anything.”
“And they punished you for that?”
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