The Hunting (32 page)

‘The Fortress will have enough problems without hunting for you right now. Believe me, they won’t be able to fix this problem and make it vanish. My guess is a lot of people are going to lose their jobs today.’

Marshall took the broomstick and tossed it in the back of the truck.

‘Meanwhile, you’ll have a new name, new life, new hair.’ He ran his hands through her stubbly hair. ‘You also have good friends who love you and owe you a great deal. They’ll keep you safe.’

Moucher bounded out of the hotel with the rest of them.

‘There’s two alarms going now,’ Renée told them. ‘We need to be gone.’

‘Who’s driving?’ Marshall asked.

‘Me,’ Rian answered swinging behind the wheel, looking back at Genie with a smile. ‘Nice and slow and safe into the city.’

‘Boring,’ Genie told him and jumped into the back with Mouch. The rest piled in after.

She thought on Marshall’s words. She still hated the idea of school, but he was right, she had to finish what she’d started, for Ri, if nothing else.

Miho squashed herself next to Genie. ‘I want to see your sketches. Maybe you can come visit me at art school?’

Genie smiled and leaned against her. ‘I’d really like to do that.’

Miho smiled, for the first time in a long time. Mouch lay across them, his ears pricked. This is what he liked. Everyone together and happy.

I am certain of only one thing – uncertainty. Why do things fall apart? Why does it hurt my heart so? Grandma Munby told me when I was small that happiness was only ever found in brief moments – the rest is just getting through life. Only now do I realize she was telling the truth.

T
he small forest behind the old cedar cabin they had rented had quickly become a magical refuge for Genie. A place she could hide and breathe, away from the pressures of school and living with her friends. Her mother would have scolded her, of course, for being an ungrateful wretch and not appreciating just how good she had it. But then again, at least memories of her evil mother were fading and she, of all people, couldn’t reach her here. No one could. The forest kept her sane, that was all and whereas Rian seemed to spend all hours in the gym – Cary in the science lab and Renée with her new friends, the forest, with its strange noises and animal activity, seemed to welcome her and keep her safe.

The first few weeks at the International Academy at Cobble Hill had been a frenetic blur of trying to fit in, catch up, and keep their necessary lies down to a minimum so they wouldn’t be caught out. It was quickly apparent that the people here were different. Way different. Budding geniuses mostly, extremely competitive – especially with a rival school by Shawnigan Lake – and Genie just couldn’t get used to it. She cursed Denis often. He could have at least found out what kind of place he was sending them to. If you misbehaved or had an attitude problem their idea of punishment was forbid you from going to the library for a week or making you do fifty laps around the sports field. She’d had to do laps for a whole morning for forgetting to bring in her homework the previous week. It was like a prison camp – and miles from anywhere. No one even watched TV. Beta-testing new computer games was actually on the curriculum and she seemed to be the only person who didn’t get it. It was bad enough she had been considered a freak back in Spurlake for not spending five hours a day on Facebook, but here – they were obsessed. The others had adapted quickly to the situation. She seemed to be the only one who hadn’t taken to the place.

Getting used to their stupid new names had been particularly hard. Rhiannon, for example. Why of all names had Denis picked Rhiannon for her? Learning to spell it the same way twice was even harder than saying it. Renée loathed being Astra – and Rian was no Henry, that was for sure. Your pet dog might be Henry, but not Ri. It was easier for Cary, who only had to remember Christopher, and he’d quickly become Chris.

It was weird how serious it all was in Cobble Hill. Kids in Spurlake would do anything to avoid hard work or join stuff, but here, in this private college hidden away atop of a hill in the middle of nowhere, everyone was super ambitious, future leaders of the world – as the Principal, Hollis, told them ad nauseum.

Most of the kids lived at the academy; only a few were like them, residing in the student cabins because all the dorms were full. Some really rich kids commuted from Victoria every day, coming in chauffeur-driven limos. Living outside the school made them outsiders right away, adding another barrier to fitting in. Genie said a small prayer of thanks every night that they were lodging out of school. The kids who lived and breathed school twenty-four/seven were way too intense. They might as well have been aliens compared to kids she’d known before. Serious and bright, everyone studied hard, aiming to get into the world’s best universities. They played sports like they were professionals; no one seem to slack at all. She’d heard rumours of drinking sessions on weekends someplace, but they weren’t ‘cool’ enough to be invited yet and Genie didn’t care for drinking anyway. Chandra, her self-appointed ‘buddy’, lived in Cowichan Bay, her father owned fishing boats, and Chandra was ‘too bright – a true genius’ to go to the local high school so her pa sent her to the academy, where her mind could be sharpened. It was true that Chandra was most likely a genius, but she knew zilch about little things like combing her hair or taking care of her clothes, or anything normal like watching TV or movies. She, like many others at this weird school, was obsessed by learning and reading, and you could test her on anything Plato or Copernicus had for supper a few thousand years ago and she’d even know which plate they used.

She had to admit that Cobble Hill was a good hideout from the Fortress and the twin evils of Reverend Schneider and Carson Strindberg. Their cover story was simple. Their previous school had been flooded – which was true enough; everyone knew about the Spurlake floods the previous summer – and because this mythical private school had been washed away with huge loss of life, there was no one to check the facts with. If anyone asked, they would roll their eyes and say stuff like ‘Can’t deal with it yet, please don’t ask …’ It generally worked. No one liked to talk about death. Not here, anyway, in perky, squeaky-clean, ‘I’m a genius’ academy.

Ri and Cary seemed to love it though. Renée had adapted well too, but it just didn’t suit Genie. Too serious, too remote and, she felt – and this was the crux of her feelings – that day by day Rian was withdrawing from her. The others too, but Rian in particular. He took school seriously. He’d always been more interested in study than her, but he took sports seriously too and being on the basketball team meant he practically lived in the gym.

Cary was on a science team and he and some geeky others were working on a ‘secret’ project that had him so obsessed he sometimes slept in the lab. Renée came home, kept her company in the evenings, but she’d suddenly developed a passion for design and talked so much about textiles and chairs it nearly drove Genie mad. She didn’t know one Eames chair from another and couldn’t care less; she found that her thoughts wandered when Renée talked about them and she got mightily offended. Who would have thought Renée could be passionate about chairs? She’d planned a whole career with
Elle Décor
already.

Chandra didn’t think Genie should be at the academy at all. In tests Genie pretty much came last, even with coaching from Chandra. She just didn’t have any interest in science or maths and the only area she was good in, art, no one had any respect for apparently, even though it was boasted about in the brochure. Anyway, it was more about art history and writing essays about artists than sketching and drawing. She was sure Rosetti was terrific, and she could just about tell the difference between Monet and Manet now, but none of this fitted in with Genie Magee – aged sixteen, fugitive teleporter. She was at Cobble Hill for Rian and that was all. And yes he loved it there – a little too much. She felt neglected. He’d saved her life, but now she was beginning to think he didn’t care so much about her any more. They were all so absorbed by Cobble Hill and all it had to offer; it was like they were students in a cult. You had to do what everyone else was doing or what – leave? (She had seriously thought about it.) She was down for volunteering on the literacy programme at the K-5 elementary school nearby but so far hadn’t quite made it there.

Which left the forest behind the house. You can tell a forest anything and it won’t talk back. The forest was important for her sanity, sure, but it had taken a special place in all their lives when they had got their first power utility bill.

Denis, never once heard from again since they had fled Whistler, had set up the fund that paid the school and rent, but he’d clearly not noticed they had to pay for the utilities – and it had been pretty much freezing ever since they had got there. They’d switched the boiler off the day they got the first bill. Now they showered at the gym in school instead. Genie had discovered the forest was more than just a refuge, but also a source of firewood. Now she had a good excuse to go every day with her basket and little saw to pick up logs and haul them back. It was never a chore. She loved being in the woods and it restored some equilibrium in the cabin as she kept it clean and warm and welcoming from when they all came home from school. At least, she hoped they appreciate her efforts. But no one ever said anything. Maybe they thought house elves lit the fire each evening and kept it going.

Though December had been mild, by late January it had begun to freeze hard and seemed stuck there behind a wall of high pressure, so cold the trees were reluctant to bud and nature seemed to stand still. Unseasonable, they said it was; the island was supposed to be warmer than the mainland.

Once Genie was out gathering logs, as usual, missing Moucher – which she did all the time – and wondering what Marshall and Max were doing back on the farm. Her life there had only been brief and sometimes filled with terror, but she’d found herself there and always wished she’d had longer. Now she was lost again.

She wanted to write to Marshall but she knew she couldn’t risk it. It still wasn’t safe. She sent one letter only when they arrived but had never given her address. It was ridiculous to miss a dog so much, but she did, and a sense of trust – Marshall had been the only adult she’d ever had faith in.

She exhaled and a cloud of steam spread out before her. It was getting colder. Pine needles felt crunchy underfoot and she stooped to pick up some large cones when she spotted a good length of branch that had fallen. She smiled. Score. She withdrew her saw from where it hung inside her coat and set to cutting the branch up into manageable sections. She was getting practised at this now and enjoyed the effort. Working up a sweat in the forest was good for her and this would be enough to keep them warm for two days. She truly was ‘Guardian of the Fire’ as Cary had christened her the first day she had hauled home logs.

She stood up, proud of her handiwork, and stashed the logs in her basket, leaving some aside for the next day. The last of the evening light filtered through the trees and she had a sudden urge to capture the moment. She dragged her sketchbook out from under her coat and leaned up against a tree to sketch the bulging basket, the golden light on the ground and tightening of the air, as it grew ever colder.

Her pencil worked quickly – she knew she had just moments to capture this before it faded to grey. She felt a keen satisfaction as it took shape. Mr Duckworth, the art tutor, had told her that she’d make a very good illustrator and it was the first inkling she had ever had of a career – a job she’d very much like to have. She’d known quite quickly that she didn’t want to be an ‘artist’, but an illustrator, someone who could bring a kids’ book to life maybe, that was serious, right? A living? Something worthwhile, something Ri could respect, perhaps? She hadn’t mentioned it to him; she didn’t think he was very interested in her sketchbook, didn’t really think he thought much about her future. His maybe, but never hers.

She suddenly felt she wasn’t alone. A small breath cloud on the periphery of her vision caught her eye. Her eyes left the page. A grey wolf was staring at her, sitting on his haunches in the golden light, his beautiful golden-yellow eyes staring at her with intensity. He was sitting absolutely still and quickly Genie began to add him to her picture. He was young, his fur was thick in differing blends of pure white to grey and brown, the sunlight catching the tips of the fur and giving it a kind of halo effect. Either way he was immaculate, and breathing short breaths but clearly not afraid of her (She did think perhaps
she
should be afraid but he didn’t look at all threatening.) Perhaps he lived nearby or was out seeking a mate; it would soon be that time of year to find one. It didn’t look lost, just curious. This was the first time she’d ever seen a wolf up so close. It looked quite healthy and had an impressive long muzzle.

‘You make a good model,’ she told the animal. ‘Moucher could never sit still for a second.’

The wolf continued to stare at her, his nose twitching, subtly sniffing her out. It showed no aggression, probably surprised to find her in its domain.

‘Want to see?’

Genie turned the sketchbook round for the animal to look. His eyes barely shifted. She had no idea as to whether it could distinguish between her and the sketchbook but she smiled encouragingly anyway.

‘It’s cold,’ she told him. ‘I guess one of us has to make a move.’

It was at that exact moment she felt a flake of snow land and dissolve on her bottom lip. She looked across the forest and saw a wave of snow falling between the trees. It stole the sun with it. Silently, snow was falling all around her now. She had a sudden feeling of elation.

She looked back, but the wolf had gone. But there he was, captured in her sketchbook. She smiled to herself, quickly folding the book away from the snowflakes. Her first wolf and in the woods, no less. She smiled to herself that she’d been lucky not to be wearing anything red.