Before Wings (13 page)

The goat was nibbling her hair. Adrien twisted the loose strands into a tight braid and tucked it into her collar. She was dressed for bed in her usual T-shirt and panties, and the mosquitoes were swarming. Bales crowded her into the door, and the top of her head pushed against the mesh roof. More mesh pressed against her back and bare feet. How could Darcie do this? Tears stung Adrien’s eyes and throat. Some friend. Some Spartan. Darcie was just like everyone else, kissing Connor’s ass. Roberta would never have gone along with this shit. Sherry wouldn’t have believed in it. Nat would have told Connor to kiss his own ass. Adrien smiled a little. Or hers.

It was so quiet. Everyone was asleep. Were they planning to leave her here all night? What if The Big One hit? It would serve them right if they found her dead in the morning—explain that one to Aunt Erin. She lifted a bare foot and kicked against the mesh. It belled out but held firm. She kicked again, the mesh cutting into her skin. “Ouch.” She didn’t want to wreck the cage, but they had no
right
. Did they expect her to sit quietly until someone came to let her out? Roberta wouldn’t. Nat would tear the cage apart with her bare hands.

“I want out!” Adrien yelled, banging the mesh with her
fist. Pain laced her skin, followed by a surge of anger, and she punched the mesh again. There was no way she was going to sit here waiting obediently for Connor’s return. “Let me out!” She got onto her knees, head pressed against the roof, fist pounding in a regular rhythm. Rage rose in her throat, filled her head, and raw words tore out of her. “I could die, don’t you know I could die? I’ve got a fuckedup brain. It could explode and I’d die out here all alone. It’s not my fault. I didn’t ask for a defective brain or weak blood vessels. I didn’t ask to eat dirt and shit my pants. I used to be like the rest of you and then my life fell apart. I hate being me. I hate me. Let me out.”

Darcie was suddenly there in the dark, fumbling with the key, unlocking the cage door and taking her arm. “All right, okay, take it easy, would ya? I was just waiting until they were gone. Shh, you’ll wake your aunt. Jesus, what’d you do to your hand?”

Adrien crawled out and stood shaking as her roommate shone a small flashlight over her puffy right hand. It was lacerated with small cuts. “Crap,” Darcie muttered. “I’m so sorry, Grouch. I’m so sorry.” Before Adrien could move, Darcie wrapped her in a bear hug. Soft and warm, it was full of beating hearts, something to bring her back from the end of the world, the end of herself. “Shh,” Darcie whispered. “Shh, shh.” Her hair grew soggy from Adrien’s tears. “That’s all right,” Darcie soothed. “That’s okay.”

The goat started chewing Adrien’s T-shirt. She kicked at it and the two girls pulled apart, wiping away tears. “Grouch,” Darcie asked hesitantly. “You were yelling something ... about your brain? Dying? What—?”

“I had a brain aneurysm,” Adrien gulped, staring off into the dark. “Two years ago. If it happens again, I’m gone. I was just lucky the first time.”

“Oh.” Darcie turned off the flashlight. “Your aunt didn’t tell me.”

“My aunt,” Adrien said scornfully, “pretends every-thing’s normal. It’s my attitude that’s the problem. She probably thinks my attitude caused the first one.”

“I doubt it.” The warmth of Darcie’s hand closed around Adrien’s good one. “C’mon, Grouch. Let’s go home.”

Adrien smiled a little. One week in a cabin and her roommate called it home. Everywhere Darcie went, home went too. Darcie was her own home. She dropped Adrien’s hand to unlock the outer gate, then took it again firmly, leading her into the trees like a child.

An image was growing in Adrien’s mind—cool, quiet, whispering with hidden meanings. A place moonlight touched the earth and rooted, going so deep it became darkness. Two halves that connected to form a whole. Her home. She turned, taking Darcie with her, leading her toward the lake.

“Where are we going?” Darcie asked. “I have to fix your hand. I’m tired, I want—”

“Shh.” They were almost at another clearing. Small pale shapes could be seen through the trees. Darcie took a quick breath, then went quiet. They crept closer and watched. It was one of the youngest cabins—the seven-year-olds. The girls wore sweatshirts and jackets over their nighties, and were clustered around their counselor in a small awed group, listening.

“It’s older than any of us, even me. It’s older than your grandma or your great-grandma. This tree is older than any of the animals or buildings here at Camp Lakeshore.”

“Older than the sea?” asked a girl, pointing in the direction of the lake.

“Almost,” said the counselor. “This tree is very very old and it’s very very wise.”

“How’d it get so smart?” asked another girl. “

Cuz it got struck by lightning. Then you’re extra smart,” said a third.

“Then you’re extra dead,” said the first.

“Not this tree,” said the counselor. “This is the Wishing Tree and it lives just to hear the wishes of children. D’you think it’s going to let some dumb ol’ lightning come along and kill it?”

“No,” chorused the girls.

Adrien’s throat tightened and she blinked fiercely.

“The Wishing Tree is going to hear all your wishes tonight,” the counselor continued. “All you have to do is touch the tree and tell it your most secret wish.”

“Do I have to say it out loud?” asked a small voice.

“This tree is so wise, it can hear the softest thought whispered inside your head,” said the counselor. “It can hear what no one else can hear. When you’re ready, just put your hand on the trunk and wish like this.” She closed her eyes and stood for a long poised moment, one hand pressed against the white bark. Then she opened her eyes, smiled and stepped back.

“Did the Wishing Tree hear you?” asked a girl.

“Oh yes,” said the counselor.

“Good,” the girl said fervently. One by one, each child stepped forward and touched the tree, most of them imitating their counselor’s pose. One hugged the tree, another stooped to touch the fallen part. When they were finished, the counselor had them all join hands.

“Now the Wishing Tree knows your wish. Each leaf on these branches holds someone’s wish. The Wishing Tree never forgets a wish. Now your wish is up there among the leaves, blowing in the wind.” The girls stood open-mouthed, listening to the tree rustle until their counselor took the nearest girl’s hand and led them back to their cabin.

“That’s Tamai,” sighed Darcie. “Isn’t she neat? She missed staff training, but this is her fourth summer, so she doesn’t need it. She always counsels the youngest girls.”

“They need her,” Adrien said hoarsely. She stepped into the clearing and stood looking at the tree. The moon was partially covered, but the trunk still glowed, a shadowy light with a dark burn slash. Leaves on the fallen half were starting to brown. Part of its life was leaving. Adrien walked to the tree and placed both hands on the standing half. “C’mere, Spart.”

She needed to say this out loud, and she needed someone to hear it. Darcie stepped close, her sleeve brushing Adrien’s bare arm. For a moment, the Wishing Tree seemed to pause. Its leaves stopped rustling and the air held silent, waiting.

“I want,” Adrien said softly, “to know about death. How long it takes for the heart to stop beating. When do you stop knowing? What happens when you lose yourself? Does all the light shooting through your brain go out quick like a bedroom light, or does it unravel slow, like a sweater,
giving you time? Does the throat clutch up? Can you get out that last important word? How cold will my skin feel? Will I feel it turning cold, or will I already be gone? Will my eyes turn blue? How blue? Will I see only blue things then, only sky? I want to know if you rise up and blow with the wind, or if you sink down, far down into cold water, nothing closes over your face, nothing is all you are, all you ever were.”

She knelt and touched the dying half. “And I want to know about life. What it’s like to truly believe in it. Because life only works if you believe in it, right Spart?”

“Right,” whispered Darcie.

“So I want to believe in it,” said Adrien, waiting, and the cool green sensation came through her, washing her clean. She breathed deeply and stood. “That’s my wish—two wishes, but they’re the same wish. What’s yours?”

Darcie’s face was a mess of tears. “I want to be the best friend you’ve ever had.”

Adrien was suddenly very tired and needed her roommate’s hand to make it back to the cabin. The short walk seemed interminable. When they finally stumbled into the cabin, the rest of the staff were asleep. Darcie took out a first-aid kit and cleaned Adrien’s hand. “What’s your aunt going to say about this?” she sighed. “Every time you’re around me, you get bashed up. I’m so gutless. I never should’ve let them put you in that cage. I’m telling you something now, Grouch. I am not going to that campfire ever again. I’m staying in bed and getting a good night’s sleep. Connor’ll be mad, but it’s true what you said—shit only works if you believe in it. If you can stand up to him,
so can I.” She looked grimly determined, as if her life stood in the balance.

“So you disobey them.” Adrien climbed into bed. “What can they do about it? Their big punishment was to lock me in the Petting Zoo.”

Darcie’s eyes turned vague. “Oh, they do things,” she said. “A lot of bullying. Hazing. Every night, there’s some victim. If you don’t join in, you become the victim. Everyone’s so eager not to be the next victim.”

“I thought it was just good times,” Adrien said faintly.

“It used to be,” said Darcie. “It wasn’t like this last year, when I worked on maintenance. A guy named Ernie led the campfires then. He kept it cool, just a place staff could go for a beer. You didn’t have to go every night and there wasn’t any hazing. I guess it depends on who leads it. Connor was here last year too, doing that grunt thing about your aunt, but it was a just a fun thing then. Not mean like now.”

“It was always mean,” said Adrien. “He just wasn’t in charge.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Darcie said softly. “I guess we let him take over and change things.” She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m not going back. We’ll stick together, Grouch. What can they do to us if we stick together?”

Adrien turned out the light. “Maybe they should start worrying about what we could do to them.”

“What could we do?”

“Ask the Wishing Tree in your dreams. Maybe we’ll know by morning.”

ten

She was floating just under the water’s surface, curled into herself. The rhythm of the water was the rhythm of breathing; she rose and fell on the water’s breathing as if it was forever, as if all things could be like this, at peace, waiting for the heart to speak. Slowly, Adrien’s eyes opened. Darcie’s bed was empty—she was probably getting rid of last night’s evidence at the Petting Zoo. Adrien rolled and stretched. In spite of missed sleep, she felt soft and warm, full of small yawns. She knew she had to decide what to do about Connor, but it was difficult to worry with all this gentleness in her body. The person she really wanted to think about was Paul—she had to talk to him this morning, find out what he had dreamed about, if he had lived or died, and how. And she had to
make
him tell
his birth date, when it was coming, if it was today.

It could be today. Heartbeat quickening, she showered, then headed to the dining hall. For once she was early. Maybe the hairnets would give her some toast and jam before everyone else came in. If she learned how to say please in their weird language, they might even cook her an ecstatic omelet. She was opening the door to the kitchen, about to go in and beg, when the sound of whispering caught her ear and she turned to find herself in sudden darkness.

A crescent moon glimmered overhead, and five girls glided past the dining hall into the trees. They were obviously trying to keep quiet—Cath giggled and was immediately shushed—and they seemed intent on something just ahead of them.

“Can you still see her?” Sherry whispered to Roberta, who led the way. The five were dressed in nighties and baby dolls. No one had bothered to pull on a sweatshirt.

Roberta nodded. “This is the same way she came last night. I followed her about this far, and then I lost her.”

“She sure ain’t going to the can,” observed Nat.

They were headed toward the campfire. It was a different route and there were no white ribbons tied to the trees, but Adrien recognized the area.

“Why would Erin come out here in the middle of the night?” whispered the girl with the long tumble of brown hair.

“Shh,” hissed Sherry and Roberta.

Fire flickered through the bush, and the sound of laughter drifted toward the girls. Ahead, the trees opened and a figure stepped from the path into the clearing, pausing so that her wheat-blond hair caught the firelight in a sudden halo. Friendly cries
greeted the young Erin Wood, and a guy put his arm around her. Someone gave a soft whistle as they kissed.

“Peter Pecker,” whispered Nat with satisfaction.

Adrien had been so intent on watching her aunt that she had forgotten the girls. She seemed to have crept in among them, and was surrounded as they crouched together in the dark.

“I told you she was meeting him!” Nat was triumphant. “Bet you they don’t stay here long.”

Before Nat finished her sentence, Erin and the young man had turned and were walking into the trees. “C’mon,” hissed Roberta, and the girls crept after the pair. The couple didn’t go far. He spread a blanket and they lay down together. Hidden among the trees, the girls’ breathing took on a quick short rhythm, their eyes beady and shameless, watching in stunned amazement as clothing came loose, and bodies were naked and joined. The guy kept whispering Erin’s name, but she seemed to lose all words, the sounds she made, almost singing.

Something rose in Adrien then, too huge to be understood, though she felt it—emotions that swirled like a storm. She was lost in it, turned from what she had seen, what her aunt kept hidden and never let show. Running, she felt like she was running through trees in the dark, stumbling over roots, branches whipping her face, but when she could think again, she found herself still standing beside the west kitchen entrance, as if she had never moved. The early morning sun slanted down to touch and warm her, the trees heaved in a slow breeze. She couldn’t get the young Erin Wood’s small joyous cries out of her head.