“Look at this now,” Willy complains. I can hear the disgust in his voice. Slowly he waddles to the fridge and back. This time he carries a few dozen eggs, huge packages of some kind of meat and a bunch of green spears. “Eggs, bacon, and asparagus for their breakfast.” He shakes his head. “And wait, that’s not all.” He waddles away again and comes back with a large bowl filled with small round fruit on a vine. “Grapes,” he announces. “Go ahead, try one.” Willy nods to the bowl.
“No, thanks, Willy. That’s Farnsworth’s breakfast.”
“Just try one,” Willy dares.
“Uh-un.”
“Oh, go ahead, Veronica, why don’t you try one?” I freeze when I hear the voice. It’s Farnsworth. In the commotion of breakfast, I didn’t hear him slither in.
“Principal Leader Farnsworth.” I stand up straight, trying to hide the grapes behind my back. I feel like a child who just got caught sneaking an extra piece of candy. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
Willy has taken the grapes and moved away. I turn to the mess hall that is loud and chaotic. “Girls?” I call. Only a few quiet down. “Girls,” I repeat, raising my voice.
Willy picks up two pans from the kitchen and bangs them together. He startles Farnsworth with the noise and smiles a small secret smile at me. A hush falls over the mess hall.
“Thank you, ladies,” I begin. “Now, as most of you know, Principal Leader Farnsworth will be joining us for the next few days, and he is here right now. I would like you all to show him the utmost respect. Principal Leader Farnsworth?” I move to the side. He takes my place at the center of the floor and everyone in the mess hall stands.
“Thank you, ladies.” He walks down the center aisle. “I am honored to be here at your camp. Thank you for inviting me.”
Inviting? The girls are doing a wonderful job of welcoming him. Well, all except Raven. Her arms are crossed in front of her body, and her jaw is set tight. I raise my eyebrows at her, and she understands. Immediately she drops her crossed arms but refuses to smile.
“Well, I hope you all have a wonderful training period here with Veronica.” Farnsworth smiles directly at me. “I know I plan to. Carry on,” he finishes, dismissing everyone.
The girls stand still, unsure of what to do.
“Finish your breakfasts, please, girls,” I say. “And then report to your first period activities.”
A general murmur is heard, but the girls are speaking quietly. I overhear one of them saying she thinks Farnsworth is “cute.” Maybe he is handsome, but to me he is as attractive as a venomous moccasin snake that’s slithered out of the lake and made his home in my boot. Behind me, I hear the clatter of pots and pans being thrown about as Willy cooks Farnsworth’s breakfast. Margaret waltzes into the mess hall to survey the situation. She salutes Farnsworth and glares at me. Raven is standing next to Violet and Lilly, telling them something meant for their ears alone. And I am about to take a non-swimming, uncontrollable bleeder to the waterfront to jump off a barely tethered piece of old wood, held in position by a rusty pipe, all while I secretly poison myself. Today is going to be interesting.
****
It takes Farnsworth a very long time to make it down to the waterfront. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” he asks more than once.
“Positive.” I want to tell him I’ve only made this trek six times a day, every day, for the past umpteen years. But I don’t. I just keep offering encouraging smiles. Finally, I see water before us. “Just there.” I point ahead. I wish I had my girls with me as a sort of buffer between me and Farnsworth, but I decided to send them to train with the AB’s today, keeping them a safe distance from Farnsworth.
Suddenly he stops.
“Principal Leader Farnsworth, sir? The water’s just there. Are you okay?” I watch him stare blankly ahead. He doesn’t answer. “Sir?” I repeat. “Would you like me to go get some help?” I knew it was a terrible idea when Farnsworth refused to allow anyone to accompany us to the waterfront. He shakes his head, slowly.
“No, thank you Veronica,” he whispers. “I just need a moment.”
“Okay.” I stand there awkwardly next to him. We stand for full minutes and the sun beats down on us, hard. The glare is giving me a headache, so I reach down to a patch of muddy dirt and run my finger through it. I smear the dirt on my cheekbones under both eyes and immediately I am relieved. I stand up and Farnsworth is staring at me.
“What?” I ask. “The sun’s too bright. Want some?”
He nods.
“Okay.” I scoop down to retrieve more mud. “We’re lucky, I didn’t know it rained. Gives us a little mud.” I reach up and smear the mud under one of his eyes. I am very gentle when I smear it, like I am touching one of my girls. I gather more mud and begin to smear it under his other eye when he reaches up and grabs my hand. “Oh!” I say, with a start. “I’m sorry sir, did I hurt you?”
“No,” he snaps, “not at all. I’m a man, Veronica.” He still has a grasp on my arm. “Why would you think you would hurt me by smearing some dirt on my face?”
“Sorry sir.” I am painfully aware he is still holding on tightly to my wrist. “It’s a habit I have from taking care of little girls for so long.”
“I understand.”
“Um, sir?” I look at him directly. “You are still holding on to my wrist. Um…could you please let me go?”
“Reluctantly,” he sighs, smiling at me. I feel my eyes open wide in response to Farnsworth’s creepy smile. He drops my hand, and I desperately feel the need to get clean. My glorious lake is only yards away.
“Uh, let’s swim.” I turn away from him and walk toward the lake. As soon as I hit the beach, I yank off my boots, tank top, and shorts. Without looking back or waiting for him, I run out and dive into the water. The lake feels welcoming and forgiving, and cleansing. I never want to get out. I feel like staying immersed here forever, away from all my problems, but eventually I need air. When I pop my head up, there is Farnsworth, on the side of the lake, waiting for me. I am suddenly, and for the first time ever, extremely uncomfortable in my swimsuit. But I am stuck in the water, and my clothes are lying haphazardly on the beach next to Farnsworth.
I swim toward the shore and stand. I walk to him, aware that he is watching me too closely. But I don’t care. I refuse to let Farnsworth take away the freedom I feel at my waterfront. And for goodness sake, I’m in my swimsuit. I’m not naked.
“Your turn,” I say, standing in front of him on the beach. I feel the water drops make their way from my hair down my face and body. The mud I smeared on my cheeks is long gone, but his is beginning to dry in the sun. I know in a few minutes it’ll become very itchy. “We should get the mud off your face or it’ll itch soon. It’s only a temporary fix.”
“Okay.” He stares at the water like it’s his enemy, and I can tell his confidence is waning.
“Uh, did you wear your swimsuit?” I ask. Slowly he slips out of his athletic pants to reveal a swimsuit underneath. He unzips a sweatshirt and he is wearing some sort of long sleeve swim top under the sweatshirt. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I know better than to question it. “That must be better.” I dig little holes in the sand with my toe. “Were you incredibly hot?”
“No, not at all,” he tells me.
“Oh, okay.” Like Gretchen, he must be cold all the time. “So let’s get started. Why don’t you wash that mud off now?”
He looks as if he’s unable to figure out how. Does this man truly run our government?
“Just squat down and rinse it off.” He does, and when he stands up again, I see he has bruises on both of his cheeks, exactly where I had placed the mud. “What is that?” I ask before I realize what I’m doing. I reach up and touch his cheek but he shies away.
“Nothing.” He moves away from me, embarrassed. “I fell off my horse the other day. Probably some leftover bruising you didn’t notice before.”
“Oh, sure.” I’m shocked by how my light touch could
have caused him to bruise like that. “Well then, let’s start by getting your feet wet.” I am painfully aware that for the next three hours, I am going to have to teach a porcelain doll how to swim.
****
Later, Farnsworth sits next to me, exhausted. We are on the beach, staring out at the lake. His breathing is labored, but he looks happy. He should. He was much braver in the water than I ever anticipated he would be, and he has made real progress toward becoming a proficient swimmer.
“Thank you, Veronica.”
“You’re welcome.” I pick up a stick and start to trace shapes in the sand, absentmindedly.
“You know,” he continues, still looking out at the water. “I knew I could trust you.”
“Why’s that, sir?” I am actually curious.
“Because of your loyalty to the government, for one thing. You know the impressive record of Veronica Billings has not gone by me unnoticed.”
I flinch when he says these words.
“Thank you, sir,” I manage to eke out.
“I also know someone who’s been as successful as you would have to be smarter than the rest.”
“Well, that’s very nice of you to say.” I’m still looking at the dirt by my feet. “But I promise I am no smarter than most. As a matter of fact, I am probably one of the least intelligent people you’ll ever meet.” I feel sad as I say these words.
“Why would you say that?” he asks.
“Well, for one thing, I am incredibly naïve.”
“Really? Elaborate, please.”
“Well, I believe just about anything. And I’ve made some bad decisions. And I trust when I shouldn’t.” I wonder if he knows I’m talking about him.
“I don’t believe that,” he debates. “Look at us.” He’s turned, facing me now. “You have been at this camp for what, seven years now?” I nod. “And in that time you must have heard countless stories about me and what a horrible dictator I am.”
“No…” I mumble.
“Of course you did.” He flashes his overly white teeth. “But you’re still here, helping me. You didn’t believe any of the nonsense people told you about me. I know that because you’ve had ample opportunity to let me die out here today, and you haven’t. It’s hard to know whom to trust.” Farnsworth lets his shoulder nudge mine, like we’re old friends. “And I’m glad to know I can trust you.” He interlaces his hand in mine. I pull my hand from his and look him dead in the eyes.
“You can trust me, sir. But you can’t push me to do anything I’m not ready to do. Friends don’t do that to one another.”
“Friends?” he asks. “I’ll take that, Veronica. I would very much like to be your friend.” He puts out his hand, and we shake on it. “That’s the toughest part, you know.” He leans back. He lifts one long, elegant arm in the air and points to an eagle flying overhead.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“The trust. Finding someone, anyone, who wants to be my friend because I’m me, not because of what I can do for them.”
“I can understand that.” I dig a hole with my stick.
“But you flat-out said no to my offer to live in my mansion. You’ll take the cramped quarters and the horrible food and the damned mosquitoes—by the way, why aren’t they biting you?”
“Built up a tolerance.” I shrug. “Believe me, in a couple more days they won’t want to bite you either.”
“Oh, I hope you’re right,” he retorts, swatting. “My nurse would never allow me more than a couple of bites.” He looks away. “Anyway,” he looks back at me, “you’ll take all of it to stay at your beloved camp, rather than living in paradise with me.”
“Everyone has their own version of paradise I guess,” I whisper, thinking of Phoenix and me in this very same lake, just last night.
“I guess. But that’s one of the ways I know you’re for real,” he expounds. “You turned down the luxury and the money. You asked for food for the girls, and nothing for you.”
I shrug again.
“Not many people would, Veronica. And about you not being smart, well I think that’s nonsense. Even if you weren’t one of the last remaining O’s, you’d still be a very special person.” My heart warms slightly.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“Just promise one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t let anyone convince you of horrible things about me. Form your own opinions. People who don’t have, so often attack those who do. I appreciate all the hard work you’ve done over the years.” As he speaks, my stomach flips over. “I appreciate you exactly as you are. Not despite the choices you’ve made, but because of them.”
I turn to him, stunned.
“I’m not saying I’m perfect or without fault,” he continues, looking away. “But I am doing my best in an imperfect world. My father died when I was fourteen,” he admits suddenly. “And I took over for him. Many people love me, and what I’ve done for them. Many others do not.” He tosses his head and laughs, almost as if it’s a private joke between us. He smiles at me, and then his face grows much more serious. “Just remember when you’re in a leadership position, like you and like me, it’s hard to find someone who truly cares about you without having their own motivation.”
“I’ve never thought of that,” I say, quietly.
“Because you haven’t dealt with that many rebels,” he explains, arching his back to stretch his spine. “One day someone will try to convince you that I’m the Devil and you are therefore guilty by association. And one day they’ll try to get you to turn on me. I just hope you remember today, and that we’re friends, real friends, because of who we are. Not despite it.”
My head grows dizzy, and I’m clouded by confusion. Is it possible this boy cares about me because of who I’ve been, and the other, despite it? We hear a noise from the woods and Farnsworth is on his feet, before me. It is a soft noise, almost a flutter, like someone very light on his or her feet.
Not Phoenix, I pray silently. Not now. It’s too soon. But when I open my eyes to see what is happening, Farnsworth is walking toward me with a small, injured bird in his hand.
“It must have fallen from its nest,” he concludes, looking up through the trees for the bird’s possible home.
“Is he hurt badly?” I ask, walking to Farnsworth.
“It’s hard to tell. Might be his wing.” He opens the bird’s wing with one hand while he holds its body in the other. When he tests the second wing, the bird squawks. “That’s it. I don’t think it’s broken, but it might be sprained. If it’s okay by you, maybe we should head back to camp and see what we can do for him.”
“Okay,” I mumble, utterly confused. “I’ll uh, call for the cart to drive back up that hill.”
“I can walk up a hill, Veronica.” There is a note of sharpness in his voice.
“I’m certain you can, sir. But I thought it would be better for the bird if we hurried.”
“Of course,” he mumbles, letting me radio for help. Truthfully, I know he could never make it up that path, but I won’t tell him that right now. Not now, when he is doing such a remarkably selfless thing. The three of us sit together on a large rock as we wait for the cart to come to take us up the hill. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him petting the bird so gently it moves me. He catches me looking at him, and his eyes meet mine. I sit there, my eyes searching his, looking for an answer. Looking for proof he is the killer I think he is, and not the kind, confident, misunderstood leader he is being right now.
Chapter Eighteen
I am lying on my cot with three mushrooms resting on my belly. They rise up and down in time with my breath, and I debate, over and over again, eating them. What happened this afternoon? Who was that man at the lake with me? Is he a ruthless, selfish dictator? Or is he a soft, gentle man who is doing the best he can to handle a world that is out of control? And more importantly, why am I having these doubts?
I look over at Gretchen who is sleeping soundly in her c
ot. I wonder if she ever even woke up today. I look at her for a long time, questioning who she really is. What happened to the best friend I shared everything with? Is she still in there, somewhere? Did disgust over our perceived world make her change into this new person, this rebel, or is it all because of love for a boy? And what about Phoenix? Gunnar and Buzzcut made no secret of the fact they were hunting me, so how do I fit into this picture? Has Phoenix really fallen for me? Or am I simply a valuable commodity? And is he certain Farnsworth is behind all of these atrocities?
I lift the mushroom up and stare at it, long and hard. How can something so small be capable of causing so much damage? Then I think of tiny Lulu, rallying troops to help Gunnar in his planned overthrow of our government. I close my eyes and concentrate. What do I know for sure? What are the facts? I have strong feelings for Phoenix, yes, but in truth, I don’t know him at all. I thought I knew Gretchen inside and out, yet for years, she kept the ultimate secret from me. People tell me Farnsworth is, in no uncertain terms, a child-killer, but today I saw a very kind man who saved an injured bird’s life. What is real? And how do you ever know? Underneath it all, there is only one thing I can be certain of. My mother. My mother would be in contact with me if she were alive. So the only plausible explanation is that Farnsworth has taken her life, directly or indirectly. I pop the mushroom in and chew quickly. I swallow hard before I can change my mind. I just hope I have the right reasons for sending a man to his death.
I doze off for awhile, but I’m awakened by a light scratching on my screen window. Phoenix? I wonder as I spring up out of bed. I rush outside careful not to let the door slam shut behind me. I run to the side of the cabin and my heart drops when I realize it’s only a June bug, bouncing against the screen. I turn, heartbroken, and begin to walk back to the door, careful not to wake anyone in camp. Then I hear something.
The Letting Page 18
