by Nancy Isaak
“Sorry, I missed my invitation,” I joked, earning a small grin from Peyton.
“I invited Jacob,” she said.
Grrrrrrr…
“Don’t worry. He didn’t come. I think he went surfing down at Zuma instead.”
“He surfs there a lot.”
She nodded. “But Brandon Keretsky was there…Frank Gornman, Denny Passelmore…some of the other guys from the football team…mostly 12th grader guys. It was a pretty amazing party.”
“Peyton…why are you telling me this?”
“Because it was the night before ‘it’ happened. And because—when we woke up in the morning—it was just Orla and Tray and me and eight other girls.”
Down near our feet, Pugly had finished his food. Now he was nosing around for attention or crumbs, so Peyton reached down and scratched behind his ears. “No matter what you think about Orla,” she continued, “that girl understands complicated things better than anyone I’ve ever met. It’s like she sees patterns where none exists. The rest of us were all scared and wondering what we were going to do when it happened. But Orla—she was already seeing how we could manipulate this.”
“Manipulate what?”
“The first thing she had us do was find the other 12th graders. Then, we worked down to the 11th and 10th graders—but only the ones we thought we could control.”
I was stunned. “So there might be other girls from our school still alive out there?”
Peyton shrugged. “Who knows? Probably. We certainly had way more than sixty-odd girls in the school to begin with—so there’d have to be, wouldn’t there?”
“But why?” I asked. “What was Orla doing?”
“It was—kind of—like a big experiment. At first, Orla said that she just wanted to see if she could make it happen. Then, when girls started falling in line, doing exactly what she said they would, we all realized that Orla was right.”
“How was she right?”
Peyton gave Pugly one last scratch behind his ears. “I’m here to give you a warning, Kaylee…for all of you.”
“I’m listening.”
“The whipping tonight—that was a ‘Step’—and the next one will be worse. The one after that…well, that will be horrendous. Orla has five months before she disappears. Until then, this—,” she waved her hands all around, “—all this is her board game. And you have to understand that Orla is willing to sacrifice any of the players.”
“Like Shelton?”
Peyton looked surprised. “How did you know?”
“Were you part of it?”
“Murder?” She looked shocked by the very idea. “Never.”
“But you knew that they had Cammie locked in the basement? And you did nothing.”
“I did nothing?!” she scoffed. “I was the one who got Cammie whipped.”
My mouth dropped open—horrified.
Peyton sighed. “You still don’t get it. Tray and Orla were planning on killing that girl. At least—out there on the field—I thought that she might have a chance. And it looks like I was right.”
“You were trying to save Cammie?”
“Of course…it was simple. All I had to do was give Tray the gift of beating and humiliating another human being and Orla the chance to be a pompous ass in front of her adoring public.” Peyton looked sickened by the thought. “I mean, like how could those two resist?”
“But…they’re your friends.”
Peyton went to the door and stepped outside. She looked back at me—a pale face in the darkness. “Those are not my friends,” she hissed. “They’re monsters!”
“Then why are you living with them?” I asked, confused. “Why don’t you just leave?”
“Because,” Peyton said, sadly, “if there’s one thing I can do well—it’s live with monsters.”
“Peyton…”
“Better me, better me,” she murmured—as if to herself.
And I finally understood.
“You’re protecting Lily, aren’t you,” I said, quietly. “Just like you protected Amelie.”
She looked at me, then—her eyes wide and fearful.
“And us,” I added. “You’re protecting all of us.”
“Monsters,” she whispered.
Then, she turned—and was gone.
* * * *
When I woke up in the morning, I found Jay in the backyard. She was leaning over a small pail of water, trying to wash Jude’s blood out of her “Doctor Who” t-shirt. There were tears running down her face and she kept sniffling as she dunked the shirt into the water again and again.
“The blood won’t come out,” she cried, looking up at me. “It’s ruined!”
I came over and pried the shirt out of her hands. “It’s not ruined. You’re just not doing it right.” I picked up the dish soap and spread it liberally over the stains. Then I pressed the shirt into the pail, completely covering it with water. “There,” I said. “We’ll just let it soak for a while. Then we’ll work at the stains.”
Jay sat down on the ground. “It’s ruined,” she insisted. “I just know it.”
“Oh, stop it…it’ll be fine.” I sat down beside her. “How’s Jude doing?”
“I don’t know!” she wailed. “I mean, she looks better and she’s awake…but what do I know?! She could be bleeding internally and I wouldn’t know and—even if I did—how could I help her?!”
“Boy-oh-boy,” I shook my head. “You are so lucky that Jude isn’t here right now, because she would definitely whack you over the head for blubbering like a little baby.”
Then—I whacked her.
Jay looked shocked.
“Just consider me your Jude-substitute,” I grinned.
* * * *
Even though Jay was exhausted, we talked a little before she went inside to go to sleep. I told her about Peyton and how she knew about Pugly. We talked about Cammie and how she should be in Malibu by now (hopefully).
Jay explained how Alice had come back into the Medical Center, took one look at Cammie’s empty bed, then she went racing out again, yelling for the Protection Detail.
We even talked about Tray and how psychotically dangerous she was.
But mostly—Jay just listened while I told her of my plan to save Lily.
AUGUST
THE TYRANNY OF TEENAGE GIRLS
A week into August, the Council closed down our Community.
The penalties for disobeying were steep.
For any girl caught leaving or coming into our borders without prior permission, punishment would range from ‘age-appropriate’ whippings to summary executions for the worst offenders.
* * * *
“I don’t know what that means,” whispered Shawnee. “Summary execution.”
With the exception of Jude (who was still recuperating in the Medical Center), we were all sitting in the auditorium, listening to Orla outline the Council’s new rules.
“Actually,” said Cherry, “I’m a little unsure on the concept myself.”
“It means that the Protection Detail can kill us immediately without even giving us a trial,” I told them.
Jay looked at me, astonished; I frowned right back at her. “Don’t look at me like that,” I sniffed, irritated. “I listen in class—sometimes.”
Up onstage, meanwhile, Orla continued listing off the new restrictions. Behind her, Tray and Peyton sat in their usual spots, both looking completely bored.
Lily was nowhere to be seen.
“I think we can all agree,” spoke Orla, “that in a developing Community like ours, we need to all be of a ‘like mind’. While dissension and differences in opinions flourish in democracies, to survive and grow in these strange times, we must be ‘united’.
“I thought we already were,” Jay grumbled—under her breath. “United States, biatch!”
Looking around the room, I noticed that the rest of the girls seemed to have fallen into one of two camps—those who were listening avidly, hanging onto Orla’s ever
y word—and those who were half asleep in their seats.
I wondered if maybe that was why Orla always chose to have these Assemblies after supper. If we were exhausted from the day’s work and wanted only to retire to our beds, was it possible that she thought we’d be more likely to accept any new rules and regulations without complaint?
“So—and it pains me to say this,” continued Orla, “but the Council and I have decided to put off elections for at least the following year. At this point in time, we believe a change in government would cause too much disruption in this fine society our Community is in the midst of creating.”
If I had expected anyone to object to Orla completely bypassing the democratic system, I was sadly mistaken.
Not a single person raised an objection.
Tyrants—one.
Common sense—nil.
JOURNAL ENTRY: #32
We went to Sophia and Reena’s church today.
I didn’t want to, and Jay absolutely didn’t want to go but—we had no choice. It’s another one of Orla’s stupid rules that everyone now has to attend church! She said that it helps to ‘foster a united Community’.
When Jay objected and said that she goes to mosque and that most of the other girls aren’t even Catholic, Orla said that it didn’t matter. She said that we can pray to whomever we want or to no one at all.
She doesn’t care—just as long as we go to church.
If we don’t, we lose our ‘food rights’.
And—considering how skinny we all are—nobody wants to miss a meal right now. Some of the girls are looking downright Kate Moss-skeletal. Even Shawnee is losing weight (of course, not stealing from the kitchen probably helps.)
Needless to say—Sophia and Reena are ecstatic.
Probably less so when we actually showed up. I hate to say it, but we weren’t very respectful—way too much yakking and giggling.
There was Jay, Cherry, Shawnee, and I—seated in a back row on the far left side of the auditorium. We were going to sit closer but—when we first came in—a number of the girls got up and moved away from us.
Looks like we’re the Community pariahs at the moment.
* * * *
Orla, of course, was sitting in the front row.
Although Peyton was beside her, neither Tray nor Lily were there.
The members of the Protection Detail took up the seats to the sides and in back of Orla and Peyton.
‘Church’ started with Sophia walking across the stage to the podium, where she set down her large bible with a self-satisfied flourish. Reena was already moving around in the background, lighting candles on a makeshift altar.
Just as Sophia opened her mouth to begin reading from her bible, there was a commotion at the rear of the auditorium. We all looked over to see Jude limping in, her face bruised and a bloody bandage over one ear; she was using crutches and wincing with every step.
“Oh-oh,” said Jay, slumping down in her seat and shaking her head.
Up onstage, Sophia frowned, clearly agitated. Reena came forward quickly to whisper in her ear. It calmed Sophia somewhat, although her sour look still didn’t change.
“Welcome, Jude,” Sophia said—her lips thin and white with irritation. “All God’s children are welcome in His church.”
“All God’s children,” Jude chuckled. “Reminds me of a bad joke. Like a Muslim, an atheist, and a bitch walk into a church. Oh, wait.” She looked around, specifically at Orla and the Protection Detail. “Not so much of an appropriate joke after all, I guess. My bad.”
A couple of the girls—including Cherry—burst into laughter.
Before an increasingly angry Sophia could respond, Reena quickly spoke loudly. “Take your seat, please,” she urged.
Limping slowly (and very noisily), Jude took her time, making her way over to sit between Cherry and myself. As she plunked herself down with a giant whoosh, Jude looked up at Sophia and grinned.
“All right,” Jude crowed, clapping her hands together. “Let’s get our state-mandated fundamentalism going!” Then she reached over and ran a hand over Cherry’s head. “Nice peach fuzz you’ve got going, lesbo.”
“Touch me again, Rude,” warned Cherry, “and I’ll break your hand…or kiss you.”
“Better get your ‘licks’ in soon then…before the Council outlaws our sweet girl-love.”
It must have been an ongoing joke between them, because Cherry and Jude both fist-bumped each other then—grinning.
Up onstage, a thoroughly exasperated Sophia, began to read from her bible in a loud voice. As she droned on, I leaned over and whispered into Jude’s ear. “Nice entrance.”
“Anything to bug the crap out of them,” she grinned.
“So, how you feeling?” I asked, quietly. “Really?”
Jude’s grin faltered. “It hurts.”
* * * *
Part of Orla’s new ‘feel-good, we’re united’ rules, is that we all have to eat lunch together in the cafeteria after Sunday church services. As stupid as that is, I’ll admit that I was really excited about today’s ‘togetherness-lunch’.
Because we had salad!
The first fresh vegetables in months…and they came from our very own garden!
Wandy would have been so proud.
* * * *
Although Jude wanted to stay for lunch, Jay insisted on taking her back to the Medical Center. She was actually really angry that Jude came to the church service at all. She said that Jude wasn’t anywhere near well enough to leave her bed.
It hurt to watch Jude limping away. I’ll be completely honest—I’m still really scared that there might be something broken inside of her.
After Jude left with Jay, Orla came up to our table. Peyton and Tray—of course—were right beside her. The rest of her Protection Detail stayed back at their table, though. Who knows—maybe Orla thought Cherry and I might say something that she didn’t want the other girls to hear.
“Just so you know,” said Orla, “the Council had a vote on whether to arrest Jude.”
The hackles began to rise on the back of my neck.
“I voted for it, but these two,” Orla nodded toward Tray and Peyton, “voted to give Rude a second chance.”
“But,” Peyton added—wagging a well-manicured finger at us, “Jude only gets one chance. And that goes for all of you guys. Next time you misbehave—you’re all out on your asses, bitches!”
And she turned and flounced off, back to her table.
Orla, meanwhile, turned and frowned at Tray. “This still doesn’t make any sense,” she said, angrily. “Rude scarred your face.”
Tray shrugged. “Makes sense to me.” Then she turned her beautiful amber eyes toward me. “Hey, Kaylee.”
A DESPERATE PLAN
At the end of August, we held our final meeting one hot, sunny afternoon.
The next day—if everything went as we hoped it would—Lily would be back in our family and we would finally be on our way to Malibu.
As we sat around the kitchen table, I looked from face-to-face, wondering if I was doing right by these girls. If my plan didn’t work, would I be condemning them to a whipping—or something even worse?
I knew that, as their leader, I had to remain positive—but inside—I was absolutely terrified.
Ten months ago, I was just a normal high school girl who liked to play soccer and dreamed of a beautiful boy with light blue eyes. I was the girl who was friendly with everyone, but to whom nobody looked for leadership.
An utterly normal girl—boring even.
Just Kaylee.
* * * *
“Maybe we should postpone it,” Jay suggested. “To give Jude a little more time to heal.”
“I’ll be fine,” growled Jude. “Worry about yourself, Skipper.”
“It’s just that we probably won’t be on roads or trails for most of the way. It’ll be hard going.”
Jude poked Jay in the shoulder. “Seriously, dude…stop being such a worrywart! The
sooner I get out of this wacko-joint, the happier I’ll be.”
Jay turned toward me, no doubt hoping I’d back her up. “She’s still healing.”
I shrugged. “If Jude says she’s okay to travel, I have to take her at her word.” Then, pulling out my list, I set it on the table in front of me. “All right, let’s go over this one more time. You’re first, Jay.”
She sighed, irritated. “I’ve found the drugs that you wanted in the storeroom, but it’s still going to be part guesswork.”
“But you’ve done your research?”
“As much as I could with the books I have. But it’s not like with Sophia. Then, it was just one person. This time, there’s a lot of math involved to figure out the correct amount to use. If I’m off by much it might not work at all.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I said. “In any case, it’s a chance we have to take.”
“Also,” Jay continued, “there’s a good possibility that all the 11th and 12th graders won’t be there. I mean, Tray wasn’t even at the last church service.”
“I’ve got Tray covered,” I said. “Cherry?”
“We don’t have a lot,” said Cherry, “but Shawnee and I have managed to hide three bottles of water and two power bars for each of us in Jay’s townhouse—up in that little secret room of hers.”
“That will have to do,” I nodded. “If we need anything else, we’ll just have to figure it out on the way…Jude?”
