by Nancy Isaak
“We’ll guard her with our lives,” Jude told her.
For a moment, Peyton’s eyes narrowed, as if she was considering Jude’s words. Then she nodded, speaking quietly—and very seriously. “You would, wouldn’t you, Jude…guard my sister with your life?”
“Of course I would.”
Peyton was silent for a moment, looking down at her feet. When she looked up again, her eyes were moist with tears. She stood there, as if she had something difficult that she wanted to say.
Jude beat her to it, however. “It’s okay, Peyton…I’m not holding a grudge.”
At the entryway, Peyton stifled a sob; a tear escaped one eye, creating a small rivulet that ran down her cheek. Embarrassed, Peyton quickly turned and left, her Protection Detail following close behind.
Cherry looked over at Jude, astonished. “I am definitely missing something here.”
“Peyton was apologizing, I think,” Jay piped up.
“For what?”
“For leaving Jude to die.”
* * * *
With the new year, came new responsibilities.
In the second week of January, Alice and Yaz stood in front of us at breakfast and handed out our new work assignments.
It was kind of exciting, reminding many of us of the sorting-hat scene from “Harry Potter”—because we each walked up to the front of the room to be told where we’d be working next.
Depending on the assignment—the announcement was received with either big smiles or even bigger groans.
* * * *
“What’s with Sophia?” I leaned over to the next table and whispered to Cherry. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her looking so un-Sophia-like.”
In the far corner of the room, Sophia was frowning and biting at her nails as she watched Yaz and Alice hand out assignments. Although a pretty girl, Sophia didn’t look it at that moment; there was a big yellow food stain on her shirt and her hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in a while.
“Dunno’,” said Cherry quietly. “Sophia kind of stopped talking to us when she joined the Foxes.”
“You think she’s okay?”
“I hope so.”
Wandy leaned in. “Are you talking about Sophia?”
We both nodded.
“Poor Sophia,” said Wandy, looking over at the girl. “As my mom used to say—I think she chose very badly.”
* * * *
Lucky me—I got put on ‘Laundry Detail’.
On the upside, Jay, Cherry, and Shawnee were chosen to wash clothes with me; it looked like the four of us would have to get used to pickled hands.
Wandy, meanwhile, was put on ‘Garbage Detail’. Cherry wasn’t happy about that, but Wandy accepted her assignment in her usual quiet way.
Jude became part of the ‘Construction Detail’, with the first big Council project being the building of a water tower up on the hill above the school, close to the giant ‘A’. The plan was to capture water in a giant storage tank during the rainy season, then let gravity pipe it downhill to another container in one of the back classrooms.
The final member of our small family—Lily—was supposed to be on ‘Animal Detail’, helping with the pets. She refused, however, insisting that she would stay with Jude.
Surprisingly, the Council allowed it.
Later, I would discover that it had been Peyton’s doing.
JOURNAL ENTRY #17
It’s ironic—but I kind of like Laundry Detail.
We first have to move the laundry. That involves loading up shopping carts and pushing them down to the creek that runs through the front yard of Beauty’s house in Old Agoura—just down from the high school on Driver Avenue.
The whole cleaning process is then divided into stages.
Stage One—washing with soap. That takes place at the bottom of the creek.
Stage Two—rinsing. That happens a little farther upstream.
Stage Three—drying. We’ve set up a number of clotheslines among the trees on the property. Most days, the clothes are dry by the time we need to return to the school. If they’re not, we just leave them flapping until the next day.
Not like anyone is going to steal them.
It’s definitely a lot of work and, sometimes, the water can be very cold on our hands. Still, I like the feeling of doing something that’s helping the whole community. Plus, the routine is kind of comforting. It’s not like you have to expend a whole lot of brainpower doing it…very Zen.
Needless to say, I spend a lot of time daydreaming.
The one thing I do miss about doing laundry, however, are clothes dryers and fabric softener. Clothes dried on a line are so much stiffer. They feel odd on your body, too—much rougher. It’s only after wearing them for about an hour that the clothes actually start to relax and stretch out.
And, of course, there’s the wrinkles.
So very many wrinkles.
Jay and I are going to ask the Council for permission to take a day trip to the antique stores on the other side of the 101 Freeway. We’ve been thinking that one of the stores might have an old iron that doesn’t use electricity. You simply put it in a fire and—when it’s heated up enough—you can use it to press your clothes.
Since neither the beasts nor the girl-gangs that Yaz told us about have made it this far up the 101, yet, Jay and I think that we’ve got a good chance at being allowed to go.
* * * *
Like I said, it’s been kind of fun working Laundry Detail. Jay and me like being around Cherry and Shawnee. They’re both really funny girls and we have lots of great conversations.
Shawnee’s like me—she enjoys the actual act of doing the laundry; she finds it comforting.
Cherry and Jay both hate it, however. ‘Scut-work’—that’s what Cherry calls it. Of course, I think she also hates it because it separates her from her girlfriend.
Sometimes we see Wandy when we’re moving clothes along Driver Avenue. There’s an empty lot a few houses down from us where the Garbage Detail are dumping the trash. Whenever Wandy passes by with a shopping cart full of garbage, she and Cherry always exchange sad looks.
I feel a little bad because it kind of amuses me…but not too bad.
At least the love of Cherry’s life hasn’t disappeared!
JOURNAL ENTRY #18
Had a very creepy moment today!
Jay and I were at the top of the creek, rinsing out some sheets. We’d worked out a system where each of us would stand on either side of the creek, holding the sheet over the water. Then—we’d dip it in, pull it up, and start shaking it up and down.
Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat—you get the idea.
At one point, a sheet we were shaking spun out of Jay’s hand and flipped back toward me. I tried to catch it, but the tail end hit the ground, right in a mud puddle. Since it was on my side, I picked the sheet up and headed back down to Cherry and Shawnee to hand it over for re-washing.
It was on my way back up that—I saw her.
Tray.
* * * *
She was standing at the top of the creek, about eighty yards from where Jay was rinsing out some pillowcases. Two 12th graders were lounging against a tree near her, one of them vaping what I’m pretty sure was weed.
My first reaction was dumb—I looked down to see if my t-shirt was wet and if I was giving her a show. My second reaction was even worse—I turned and walked back toward Cherry. Then, realizing that my butt was on display, I turned once more and returned to my rinsing station.
Jay had a curious look on her face when I reached my side of the creek. “That was interesting.”
“Don’t look up,” I whispered. “Tray is at the top of the hill. She’s watching us.”
And, of course—Jay looked up.
“Jay, don’t!”
“Calm down,” Jay told me. “There isn’t even anybody there.”
I slowly looked up, toward the top of the creek.
Sure enough—nobody.
JUDGING
FOXES
The first we heard of Cherry being arrested was when Wandy came pounding on our front door at two in the morning. Sleep-addled as we were, it never even occurred to us as we opened the door that Lily was sleeping in the other room with Pugly.
Wandy tumbled in first, grasping a terrified-looking Shawnee by the hand. They both were shaking badly, so Jude and I made Wandy sit on the couch, while Jay took Shawnee into Lily’s room.
“What happened?” I asked.
“They came while we were sleeping!” Wandy’s hands fluttered in front of her; she was wearing pajamas under a dark trench coat and her fingers plucked at the buttons nervously. “It was Tray and four of the Protection Detail. They said that Cherry had stolen food from the supply room and they were arresting her for it.”
“Did she?” asked Jude.
“What…no!”
Jay came out of the back room and sat down beside Wandy.
“How’s Shawnee?” I asked.
“Pretty scared,” Jay reported. “She’s talking it out with Lily right now.”
“I’m scared, too,” admitted Wandy. “Really scared. Like, the Foxes hate Cherry!”
“Especially Tray,” I muttered—before my brain kicked in and could stop me.
“Especially Tray,” Wandy agreed, sadly.
There was a small blanket over one corner of the couch. Jay picked it up and tucked it around Wandy’s trembling shoulders. “Why do they think that Cherry stole food?” Jay asked.
Wandy struggled not to cry. “It was in our house.”
I was confused. “But I thought you said Cherry didn’t steal the food.”
“She didn’t.”
Jay, Jude, and I figured it out, all at the same time.
Meanwhile, the door to the back bedroom opened, and Lily and Shawnee came out. Pugly lumbered at their feet, half-asleep and farting.
“I’m sorry I stole the food,” said Shawnee, meekly. “I was just so hungry.”
* * * *
“This is ridiculous!” I hissed.
We were sitting in the high school theater, waiting for Cherry’s ‘trial’ to begin. The whole community was there, the girls sitting in the audience—the armed 11th and 12th graders standing along the walls.
Having arrived early, we had managed to get seats near the front. Jay and Wandy were seated on opposite sides of me; Jude was next to Wandy. We had left Lily and Shawnee with the younger kids who were all gathered in a separate room—too young apparently to witness the Foxes’ particular brand of ‘justice’.
Meanwhile, down on the stage—facing us—Cherry sat quietly in a chair. Her head was down and she held her hands folded primly in her lap. An armed 12th grader stood on each side of Cherry, their hands never far from the guns at their waist.
“Please don’t say anything, Kaylee!” Wandy reached out and took my hand. “Please don’t!”
“But it doesn’t make any sense!” I was so angry, I was having a hard time remaining in my seat. “Cherry obviously didn’t do it!”
To the polite applause of the girls seated in the auditorium, Orla, Peyton, and Tray suddenly emerged from the side of the stage, taking their places on chairs to the left of Cherry.
Yaz, meanwhile, came out from the other side of the stage and walked up to a podium. She was carrying a piece of paper, from which she began to read. “Cherry Winslette has pleaded guilty to stealing from our food stores. Her punishment, as set out in our new Charter, will be seventeen lashes—one for each year that she has been alive. Thank you.”
Horrified, I turned to Wandy. “We can’t let this happen…this is crazy!”
“Please, be quiet!” she begged.
“I don’t understand. How can you just sit by and let this happen? Don’t you get it…they’re going to whip Cherry!”
There were tears pouring out of Wandy’s eyes now; she wiped at them, furiously. Then she pulled me in close, hissing in my ear. “Don’t you get it?!—Shawnee might not survive a whipping…but Cherry absolutely will.”
“Cherry pleaded guilty to protect Shawnee?”
“Of course she did,” said Wandy. “Wouldn’t you do the same for Lily?”
Meanwhile, down on the stage, Orla made her way over to the podium. Tray walked beside her, eventually stopping mere feet away from Cherry.
There was a large whip hanging down from Tray’s belt. She saw me looking at it and—when our eyes met—Tray grinned.
Honestly—I had never hated anyone more than I did Tray at that moment.
* * * *
Orla began to speak—her expression one of deep sadness.
“If we are to work as a community, we need to be able to trust each other—to know that we are in this together. We all understand that these are difficult times that we are facing. However, by pooling our resources, I am confident that we will be able to survive.
But—we will not survive if we steal from each other, if we take from our community for personal gain. That behavior—selfish and thoughtless—will ultimately spell our destruction.”
(There were grumblings throughout the theater. I wasn’t sure whether it was because the girls were upset with Cherry or with the ridiculous sentence she’d just been given.)
“Sadly, we are now facing the first crime against our community—theft from our food stores.”
(More grumblings. Cherry continued to look at the floor. In fact, she had not looked up once since we entered the theater.)
“Cherry Winslette has pleaded guilty to a selfish, thoughtless act—stealing one bag of oranges and seven candy bars. She has further admitted to breaking one of the windows to enter the storeroom—thereby making our food stores even less secure.
Now—under our new Community Charter that your Council and I have been writing—the punishment for crimes against the community range from lashing to expulsion and—for the worst offensives—capital punishment.”
(All around me, girls gasped.)
“But for a first offense of thievery, the Charter dictates a lashing equal to the perpetrator’s age. In this case, because Cherry is seventeen, so she will be given seventeen lashes—a fair and equitable justice, as I am sure everyone will agree.”
(Not waiting for a response, Orla nodded to Tray. Too quickly, Tray pulled the whip out from her belt, allowing it to fall to its full length along the floor. Furious, I started to rise. Wandy and Jay pulled at me urgently, begging me to sit down. My eyes fell on Peyton, still sitting onstage. She gave the slightest shake of her head—as if to also tell me to sit back down. Slowly—reluctantly—I returned to my seat.)
“I ask everyone to remember that the law in our community must be absolute,” continued Orla—as Tray circled Cherry, the long whip trailing on the floor behind her. “We cannot allow ourselves to fall into the barbarity of our sisters to the south of us. We will not become animals like them. We will not! Above all—Agoura Hills must remain civilized!
And—with that in mind—as your President, I stand by the punishment accorded to Cherry Winslette by the benefit of our new Charter. But, as your President, I also stand by the exceptions given under that Charter. And, accordingly, our Charter states that the President may—at any time—commute a sentence if she believes it to be in the best interests of the community.”
(For the first time, Cherry looked up. There was a bruise on the right side of her face and I had no doubt that one of the Protection Detail had put it there.)
“So…Cherry Winslette—for the good of this Community—I commute your sentence. You are free to go.”
(The theater erupted in cheers and applause. Beside me, Wandy burst into tears. Up onstage, Cherry slowly rose from her chair, as if uncertain whether it was a trick or not. Tray, meanwhile, rolled up her whip and tucked it back onto her belt. As she did, she smirked—directly at me.)
“One last thing,” Orla continued, her voice rising to be heard above the excited chattering of the girls. “And let this be a warning to all of you. Justice will not be lenient next ti
me. If you steal from this community, there will be no more commutations. You will be whipped!”
* * * *
Jay, Wandy, and I waited outside the theater for a half hour before Cherry finally emerged. I thought she and Wandy would hug but, instead, they just leaned forward, their foreheads touching, their eyes closed—relieved.
“You okay?” Wandy finally asked.
“I am now,” Cherry sighed. She opened her eyes and looked around. “Where’s Shawnee?
“Jude took her and Lily to our place,” I explained. “We thought it would be for the best, until things got figured out.”
“How did you get this?” Wandy gently touched the bruise on Cherry’s cheek.
Cherry shrugged. “My face accidentally fell into Tray’s fist.”
“Guess the Protection Detail won’t arrest her for that,” I groused.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Cherry. “We’ve got a bigger problem.”
“What’s going on?” asked Jay.
Before she said anything, Cherry took her time checking the area around us; it appeared to be empty except for the four of us.
“I’m not sure,” she said, quietly, “but last night—some 12th graders took me up to the Foxes Compound. They stuck me in this little gardening shed that was attached to the house where Orla, Tray, and Peyton are living. I guess they didn’t realize it but, every once in a while, I could hear a little of what they were saying inside of the house.”
