by Nancy Isaak
I quickly glanced over at Peyton to find that a piece of lint on her hoodie had suddenly captured her attention.
“No girl’s invisible, Jude,” Orla told her. “We’re all important now. More so than ever.”
It was at that moment that Sophia—smiling brightly—rushed over. “Orla,” she gushed. “We’ve set up a table for you right over there. We’re cooking up something special for you right now.”
“I’ll eat what everyone else is eating,” Orla corrected her. “So will my Detail.”
Sophia’s smile immediately disappeared. “Oh…of course. We’ll get you some spaghetti, then.”
“I love spaghetti.” Orla reached out a hand, smoothing down Lily’s hair. “Don’t you, Lily?”
“Yum,” said Lily, winding up a forkful of noodles, as if in response.
“Well, I’ll let you get back to your meal, then.” She was about to leave, but turned back, as if she had just remembered something. “It’s good to see you here, Jude. I’m serious about that. We all have to work together now…if we want to survive.”
And that’s when…Amelie dropped her bracelet.
* * * *
It landed just under the table, right next to my foot. Both Amelie and I bent down at the same time to pick it up. She reached it first, however, scrabbling under the table to get at it. As she turned to scoot back out, she looked up.
And her eyes went wide.
My head—halfway under the table—suddenly realized what she had seen.
The revolver.
Earlier, I had placed the weapon in a small purse, which was now sitting on my lap—partially obscured by a napkin. Even so, I sensed that the flap had come open and—from underneath the table—Amelie had a direct line of sight to the revolver inside.
We stared at each other from under the table—both frozen.
“Amelie, get out from under there!” barked Peyton. “You’re going to get your clothes dirty.”
And then that young girl did the most amazing thing; Amelie smiled at me—and gave me a thumbs up.
Orla was wrong.
Everyone didn’t like Amelie—some of us loved her.
THEY’RE COMING!
Jude finally returned to the house just before midnight. (We knew the time because of her mother’s wind-up clock.) Pugly, meanwhile, was sleeping quietly, tucked inside of her jacket.
“Man, this dog farts a lot,” complained Jude. She plunked herself down on a couch and placed the dog on a pillow beside her. There was a small candle on a nearby coffee table. Even so, we could just barely see each other’s faces. “Lily asleep?”
“She passed out a few hours ago,” I told her. “What took you so long?”
“Was it the patrols?” asked Jay, sitting down opposite her. “We could hear them moving around outside.”
“They’re certainly patrolling,” admitted Jude. “But I had no problem getting past them. I just took a side trip, that’s all.”
“Where’d you go?” I asked.
“Wanted to see where the Foxes were living.”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“They said they lived in one of the houses on the hill across from the school,” said Jay.
“They do,” Jude nodded. “Big one, opposite the football field. The one with that glassed-in terrace. Looks like all the Foxes are living in it together.”
Beside her, Pugly farted.
“Sheesh!” Jude groaned. She picked up the little guy and walked off into the dark. A moment later, she returned—without the dog. “I put him in with Lily,” she told us. “She’s at least used to the stink.”
“Could you see inside the Foxes’ house?” asked Jay.
“I looked through some of the windows. It’s just a house. But get this…the girls from the Protection Detail are living in the houses all around them.”
“That would make sense,” I said. “You put security around the leaders.”
“And looks like that “Brady Bunch”-bitch, Alice, is rooming with Sophia.”
“Sophia Rojas?” Now that was surprising.
“Cherry won’t like that,” Jay warned.
“Guess little Miss Sophia likes to be where the power is,” grinned Jude.
“I wonder where the other Continuation girls are living,” I mused.
“On Driver Avenue,” answered Jude. “Cherry told me they picked out that house that looks like a big wooden cabin. The one up on the hill.”
“Oh, I love that one,” said Jay. “They have the most beautiful Christmas tree each year. You can see it from the road.”
“Cherry said they chose that house because they can see the 101 Freeway from the other side.”
“Why is that important to them?” I asked.
“Probably the same reason the culvert is to us,” Jude shrugged. “It’s an escape route.”
“Just in case,” I murmured.
Jude nodded. “Just in case.”
* * * *
We had breakfast with the Continuation girls the next morning.
Although she wouldn’t admit it, I wondered if Jude had prearranged it with Cherry, because the pink-haired girl certainly didn’t seem surprised when we sat down at her table. Instead, Cherry just lifted her bowl of oatmeal and moved to one side to make room for us.
“That’s Wandy,” Cherry said, motioning to the quiet girl at the far end. “She doesn’t talk much. Likes to save her breath for saying things that really matter.”
Wandy looked up and smiled sweetly at Cherry. There seemed to be affection in her gaze. It made me wonder if, perhaps, they were a couple, because it was no big secret that Cherry was gay. She had always been very open about it.
Personally, I thought that was another reason why the Foxes hated Cherry so much. (Not the ‘being gay’ part—the ‘being courageous and not caring what other people thought’ part.)
“You’ve got an earring in your nose.” Lily pointed to Cherry’s columella-jewelry. “Does it hurt?”
“It hurt going in.”
“I don’t think I’d get one, then,” said Lily.
“Probably a good idea,” Cherry told her. “I just did it to annoy people anyway.”
“Why?” asked Lily.
Cherry shrugged. “Who knows...my mom says I was just born contrary.”
Lily looked over at the chubby black girl on the opposite side of Cherry. “I’m Lily,” she said.
The other girl smiled, producing massive dimples, one in each cheek. “I’m Shawnee.”
“I have a brother. His name is Ethan. He’s seven like me—but he disappeared.”
The smile left Shawnee’s face. Cherry immediately reached out and took her sister’s hand. She gave it a quick squeeze, then turned to Lily. “Shawnee and I have an 8-year old brother.”
Lily’s face dropped. “Did he disappear, too?”
Cherry nodded sadly. “He disappeared, too.”
For a moment, nobody said anything. Then Lilly got out of her seat and walked over to Shawnee and gave the girl a big hug.
“It’s okay, Shawnee,” said Lily. “Maybe our brothers are together. Then they could take care of each other wherever they are. That would be good, wouldn’t it?”
“That would be very good,” whispered Shawnee—her eyes moist with tears.
* * * *
“I thought most of you Continuation kids lived out of the area,” I said.
“Wandy lives on the hill across Kanan,” said Cherry. “Sophia’s in Thousand Oaks and Shawnee and I live in Calabasas. That’s probably why we’re the only ones here. All the rest live over the hill in the San Fernando Valley.”
“Kaylee and I went to Calabasas—after it happened,” said Jay. “To check out the Sheriff’s Station.”
“Was that you who put up the note?” asked Cherry.
“You saw it?”
Cherry nodded. “On our way here. We wrote where we were going. You didn’t see it?”
“We must have just missed each other,” I sai
d. “Did you see anybody else when you walked over here?”
“No.” Cherry shook her head. “For a while there it was just Shawnee and me. We thought we had been left behind—like in the bible.”
Jay nudged me. “See, it wasn’t just me who thought that.”
I ignored her. “But why come here?” I asked Cherry. “It’s a long way to walk from where you live.”
“Everyone was gone in Calabasas.” Cherry shrugged. “We looked and waited and looked and waited and no one came. Finally, Shawnee and I decided to come this way and see if Wandy and Sophia were left behind, too.”
“We stopped at the police station,” said Shawnee, softly. “We knew we weren’t alone then—not anymore.”
“Because of the note you wrote,” said Cherry.
Shawnee smiled and her dimples came out again. “I liked your note,” she said, shyly. “It made me not so afraid anymore.”
Jay and I exchanged a look.
It felt good to have finally done something right.
* * * *
“What do you think of the Foxes’ plan for the community?” I asked.
Cherry had pushed away her oatmeal and was leaning back in her chair, with her arms crossed. “I think hard times require hard choices.”
“So you’re okay with her giving us all orders?” asked Jay.
“Somebody has to lead.”
“That’s exactly what Sophia told us,” I said.
A darkness passed over Cherry’s face. She looked over to a far table, where Sophia was hovering behind Orla, shaking brown sugar into her bowl of oatmeal.
“Is Sophia living with you guys over on Driver?” asked Jay—knowing darn well that Sophia wasn’t!
Shawnee shook her head. “Sophia’s helping the President now. She lives with Orla and the rest of the Foxes.”
“She’s not the President, Shawnee” said Cherry, obviously irritated. “I told you that before.”
“But Sophia said that Orla was the Vice-President of the Student Council,” Shawnee insisted. “And now she’s the President.”
“There is no Student Council anymore!” Cherry snapped. “School’s out for good, now!”
The younger girl looked crestfallen. “But I liked school,” she said, sadly.
Suddenly—there was a CRASH!
We all looked around to see a pretty African-American girl stumbling into the cafeteria. There was blood on her face and her clothes were ripped and dirty. She was wearing sandals, but one of them was broken and had been duct-taped back together.
The girl looked around at us—her eyes wide and terrified.
Then slowly—she began to tumble toward the ground. As she did, she cried out two words.
“They’re coming!!”
* * * *
We didn’t recognize Yaz when she first showed up.
The dirt and the messy hair falling around her face only added to our confusion.
It was only after Orla had bent down and helped her to a nearby table, that we finally realized that the scared and roughed-up girl was Yazmeen Collins—an Agoura High transfer student from South L.A.
* * * *
Everyone looked scared and worried.
Even the 11th and 12th graders standing at the open door were chewing on their nails and talking together in hushed voices. We were all waiting for the Foxes to finish questioning Yazmeen in another room.
At our table, meanwhile, Shawnee was quietly braiding Lily’s hair. Wandy sat beside them, saying nothing. Her eyes, however, roamed the room constantly. It looked like Cherry was right—Wandy was one of those smart girls who took in everything but kept her opinions to herself.
At one point, Alice raced in, scanning the room, looking for something. We all stopped what we were doing, hoping for some explanation as to what had happened to Yazmeen. But Alice ignored us all; instead, she walked quickly over to a table near the far wall, grabbed a bottle of water, then raced back out again.
* * * *
Cherry, Jude, Jay, and I instinctively moved in closer, so that we could talk quietly together. Wandy stayed where she was, keeping the two younger girls occupied and out of hearing of our discussion.
“How well do you know Yaz?” asked Cherry, her voice low.
“Not much,” I answered. “She mostly hangs with the seniors.”
“Is she part of the Foxes?”
“Kind of, but not really,” said Jay. “More like on the fringes.”
“Why do you ask?” I said.
“Did you see what happened when she came in?” Cherry asked.
“Yeah, sure. She stumbled and then fell down, like she was passing out.”
“And who came to help her?”
Jay looked at Cherry, confused. “Orla…we all saw that.”
It was Jude who finally got it. “Now, that is interesting.”
“What?” I asked, a little annoyed at being left out.
“The Protection Detail,” Jude said.
“What about them?”
“Exactly.”
Now I was really irritated; across the table, meanwhile, Jay just looked confused.
“Think about it,” said Cherry. She started tapping out spots on the tabletop. “We had Protection girls here, here, and here. Meanwhile, Orla was standing way over here. Yaz comes in the room all upset, cut up…what did the Protection Detail do?”
Jay and I finally understood.
The Protection Detail—they did nothing.
Why did they just stand there?
* * * *
Yazmeen didn’t return to the cafeteria.
Orla did, however—and so did the rest of the Foxes—with worried looks on all of their faces. Amelie was with them, holding tightly onto Peyton’s hand. She appeared small and scared, and there were tear-tracks on the young girl’s cheeks.
This time the Protection Detail did do something—they took their guns out of their holsters and held them by their sides. Spacing themselves out and—this time—turning their backs to us, they focused their attention on the ‘darkening’ school grounds that could barely be seen through the windows.
Orla, meanwhile, made her way up to the front of the room and held up her hand for silence. Then she began to speak.
JOURNAL ENTRY #15
I’ll be honest—after listening to Orla, I still don’t know what to think. What I can say is that I’m really glad now that I’ve got the revolver.
Really glad.
At the moment, I’ve got twelve bullets for my gun.
Even though it can carry four in the cylinder, I’ve only put in three. It’s my thinking—probably ridiculous, I know—that I should leave the top slot of the cylinder empty. That way, if my gun accidentally fires, the pin will hit the empty slot. Hopefully, that will keep me from shooting an innocent bystander or—more likely—myself.
The rest of my bullets, I’m carrying in my purse.
And Jay’s really determined to get her own gun now.
We’re scheduled to work our way up through another section of the townhouses tomorrow. With a little luck, maybe we’ll be able to find a weapon for her by suppertime.
Also—although I know it’s a terrible, terrible thing to contemplate—we’re going to look for a suitable weapon for Lily. We know that she’s way too young for a gun, but we were thinking of seeing if we could find some of that pepper spray for her.
* * * *
Now before you get to thinking that we’ve all become crazy, gun-toting survivalists, I suppose I should explain to you what Orla said that has us all so spooked. But, first, let me explain a little about Yazmeen Collins.
* * * *
Yazmeen Collins:
Yazmeen is smart.
She’s so smart, in fact, that’s it’s expected that she’s going to be graduating this year with top honors (was going to be graduating) and getting a full ride scholarship. Because she’s so good in school, she was transferred into Agoura High from South L.A. because a) her mom worked nearby as a maid and
b) Yaz has a better chance to excel at Agoura High than at her old school in South L.A.
Yaz and I aren’t really friends, but we’ve talked a little bit on occasion. I do know that she lives with her mom and three brothers in a one-bedroom apartment. And Yaz told me that her father is a white bank manager in Valencia, but that she’s also never met him.
I actually like Yaz a lot. She’s always been very nice to Jay and me.
That said, she does spend a lot of time with the Foxes.
If you’ve ever seen that old movie, “Clueless”…well, that’s kind of the relationship that Yaz has with the Foxes—she’s the ‘clueless’ character that the Foxes keep trying to dress up and turn ‘cool’.
In fact, Jay and I often joke that Yaz is the Foxes’ DIY project.
* * * *
But back to Orla.
This is what she said—again, it’s not word-for-word—but I’m doing my best.
ORLA:
“For those of you who don’t know who that girl is—it’s Yazmeen Collins. She’s in 12th Grade and is a friend to many of us seniors and a lot of you younger grades. Yaz is a transfer student from South L.A. and first came to Agoura High around the beginning of January of this year.”
(At this point, one of the girls—I’m not sure who—asked if Yaz had walked all the way from South L.A. to get here. Orla nodded and then continued.)
“She didn’t just walk. She actually started on a bike—but that was stolen from her somewhere around Wilshire and the 405 Freeway.”
(There were gasps at this.)
“Understand that Yaz has been working her way north from her home since approximately ten days after the ‘event’ happened. Along the way, she has had to deal with some pretty horrible stuff. She has seen things no one should ever have to witness and has had to defend herself in a number of very difficult situations.
