Isle of Night (18 page)

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Authors: Veronica Wolff

BOOK: Isle of Night
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“I get it, Drew. Serious as a heart attack. But if you can't have a sense of humor about it, well, you might as well give up right now.”
I went on, ignoring Yasuo's trite wisdom. “A girl fell from ropes last week, too. Broke her neck, and I know she didn't survive
that.
” I pinned Josh with a look. “Isn't that right, Mr. Harvard Premed? And then she was taken away, but to where?”
I caught Yasuo and Josh exchanging a quick look that I knew I wasn't meant to see. Did they know something I didn't? Were they holding something back?
I took a calming breath. “Girls have been dying. Not a lot, not yet, but a few have, and yet nobody talks about it. I haven't even seen any coffins.”
“I don't imagine you would,” Yas said carefully.
I leapt on that. “Because the bodies are used for something else?”
Josh put his arm around me and leaned down to my level. “Don't ask questions we can't answer.” His tone was light, but I sensed something steely underneath.
A shiver crawled up my spine. We'd reached my dorm, and not a moment too soon. I spun to leave them. “Fine,” I said coolly. “No more questions. Bye for now.”
Yas called to me, “Aww, D, don't do us like that.” He began to improvise words to the tune of “Don't Do Me Like That.”
I stopped and turned around. The two of them seemed so bereft, for a moment looking simply like two bumbling, teenage boys, and I smiled despite myself. “Seriously, it's okay. I just got upset. But I really do need to go.”
“I'd walk you in if I could,” Yasuo said in playful earnest.
“Wouldn't we both?” Josh broke into a grin. “The mysteries of the girls' dorm. Do you all walk around in little towels, doing each other's makeup and things?”
I rolled my eyes. “Naturally. We sit around in silk nighties, having one big mani-pedi-gossip-makeover fest.”
Josh put his hands to heart. “Oh, mate, she made a joke for me.”
I didn't have time to analyze
that
crack when the heart-faced girl walked by. Her auburn hair caught the sun, looking like molten copper. Yas stared, and the faraway longing in his eyes startled me.
Josh elbowed him. “Earth to Yasuo.”
Yasuo shut his gaping mouth. “Did you find out yet who she is?” he asked me.
“Give it up.” I stared at the door where she'd just entered. “She's the one person on this island who's lamer than I am. I'm not quite convinced she's capable of speech.”
“Cute, though.” Yasuo waggled his eyebrows. “Cute but mute? Sounds ideal.”
I gave him a shove. “Shut up.”
Josh ignored our banter, focusing on me. “You're not lame.”
For a moment, I believed him. But I snapped out of it quickly, wondering again what his ulterior motive might be.
I ran a hand through my hair, clearing my mind of the boys' nonsense. “Okay, guys. Now I really do need to go.” With a quick wave over my shoulder, I walked away.
I didn't want to have to think about free diving or gore or boys named Josh becoming vampires. I didn't want to stand out or be noticed. I was on overload, and back in the room, all I wanted was to dig out the picture of my mom and stare at her until the world felt right again. Though I feared I'd have to stare a long time for
that
to ever happen.
I rarely risked looking at the photo now, and only when I really needed the strength. I'd just have to imagine my mom's blond hair, that yellow
Kill Bill
pantsuit. How would my mother have fared in a place like this? I was still alive, and I had to have inherited my survival instinct from someone.
I curled onto my bed, thoughts of my father pushing their way into my head. His violent tendencies were in me, too. His rages and casual brutality were there somewhere, twined into my DNA. And I really hoped
he
wasn't the person I had to thank for my success.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I
stood against the gym wall, scowling for all I was worth. It was time. The next fitness assessment had arrived. I'd been here well over a month now, and this evaluation was shaping up to be as much of a disaster as the first one.
Fifty-yard dash: laughable.
Rope climbing: catastrophic.
Sit-ups: comical.
And, really, who failed sit-ups? I mean, I'd thought I was doing fine. Until I saw the other girls, arms crossed over their chests,
chuff-chuff-chuff
ing rhythmic exhales like maniacal little steam engines.
I'd made minimal progress in the past weeks. Did girls get kicked out if they weren't able to climb stuff?
Pull-ups were next. The blood was making me stronger, but still, I'd yet to get my chin up over that stupid bar. There was a better chance I'd sprout wings and
fly
than do a pull-up.
I glared at Lilac, trotting through every challenge like a freaking show horse on parade. The sight of her made me livid.
I wanted to triumph. Needed to. But Lilac stood in my way. How would I advance to the next level with Lilac doing all she could to instigate my downfall?
In my peripheral vision, I saw Ronan approach, though I didn't need eyes to know he was there. I managed to feel him whenever he was close. Like he was a torch burning hot and bright, and I was a big hairy moth.
Inhaling, I turned to face him. I was beyond surly, and eager to cut him off before he gave me the talking-to that I sensed was coming. “What, Ronan? I mean . . .
Tracer
Ronan.”
“You must focus, Annelise.” His tone took me by surprise. It wasn't that of a scolding teacher, but rather the whispered advice of an ally.
“Focus? I'm sorry, but I've been sucking abysmally at every single one of your circuits, and it has me pretty damned focused, thank you very much.”
“Language,” he hissed.
“Yeah, okay,
doggone
focused. That better?” I scowled at him. “And as long as we're talking etiquette, shouldn't you be calling me
Acari Drew
, not Annelise?”
“Annelise is your name.”
Something drove me to nitpick him on the point. “The Initiates and Guidons call me Acari Drew. Shouldn't
you
?”
“It doesn't suit you as
Annelise
does,” he said, beginning to look a little flustered.
Now I was the flustered one. Why we were even having this conversation? “Whatever. It doesn't matter. It's obvious I'll get kicked out of here soon, anyway.”
“Don't say that.” His voice was gruff in a way that gave me a shiver. His words had come out snarly and decisive and, well, really manly.
I couldn't help but turn back to him. “Why do
you
care if I fail out of here?”
“You
won't
fail. Not if you try.” He stepped closer. He smelled like fresh air, like the sea. For some reason, it made me want to needle him even more. Either that or curl myself close so he could wrap me in those muscular arms that were hard to ignore beneath the thin fabric of his athletic shirt. “If you try it, you can do it.”
His voice was stern. A teacher's voice. Not the voice of anyone who planned on embracing me anytime soon.
“
No try, only do
. . . that right, Yoda?” The words had spilled out of me like acid. It seemed picking fights was all I was good for these days.
But Ronan didn't take the bait. Instead, his voice got warmer, kinder. “You can do it, Annelise. You can accomplish any challenge set before you. You're here for a reason. You're special. You were chosen. For a reason.”
His words made my heart swell. I told myself it was just a pep talk, teacher to student.
For one cynical moment, I wondered if he was using his
special
voice on me. But he'd told me he'd been unable to use persuasion on me without touching me. And when he had touched me, it'd felt warm and strange. No, I'd know if he was using his powers. He'd said something nice, and it'd reassured me. It was as simple as that.
“But you must take it seriously,” he continued. “You
can
do this. I don't care why or how. Do it for yourself. Do it to spite your father. Do it for me. For Lilac. But this is serious, Annelise. You
must
be serious. Failure isn't tolerated. Failure of any kind.”
I thought about the girls who'd died. They'd been doing simple things—in the pool, in the gym. Simple, deadly things.
Ronan's advice was grave, like this was life or death. And I believed it might be.
“Hey, Charity!”
That piercing pep-squad voice brought me back to earth. A knot of girls was clustered around the bars. Many stood, hands on hips, shifting their weight from foot to foot. Waiting. For me.
“Your turn!”
Ronan knelt to tie a shoe that didn't need tying. “You can do it,” he whispered. “Not everyone is perfect at everything. Do whatever it takes. But you
must
succeed.”
I strode to the bar.
I can do it.
I'd never managed a pull-up in my life.
Ronan believes I can do it.
I stood beneath the tarnished gray bar, heart hammering in my chest. Lilac was there, and the mysterious Heart Face, too, as well as a growing crowd of curious Acari, slowing to witness the crash.
I'm here for a reason.
My back was to the wall. Though I faced the entire gym, my eyes avoided Ronan. But I felt him. Across the room. Watching.
Failure isn't tolerated.
“I'll spot,” a quiet voice said. I thought it might be Heart Face, but I didn't look to make sure. I couldn't risk catching anyone's eye.
It was just a bar, held aloft by two metal poles, each with a metal foothold. I stepped onto the first. Clinging tightly to one side, I hauled myself up, bearing all my weight on the one foothold, a couple of feet off the ground. I acclimated myself, letting the pole cool my damp palms. It had a sour, metallic smell.
Praying my sweaty hand wouldn't slip, I swung toward the other footrest. I gripped both poles now, spread-eagled over the ground, with the horizontal bar looming over my head. My thighs trembled as I stood there, and my heart beat double time.
I couldn't do it last time. What would happen if I couldn't do it again?
But I had to do it. Whatever it took.
Palms away,
Josh had said. I sucked in a stabilizing gulp of air. Reaching up, I grasped the bar in my hands. I edged off the footholds and let myself drop. I dangled there for a moment, wishing for a miracle. A miracle where I'd somehow, suddenly become strong. Able.
For a moment, I believed this might happen.
Until I pulled, and didn't budge.
The other girls were gleefully anticipating my failure. I kept my face blank—I'd make them believe I hadn't tried yet. I pulled again.
“Any day now, Charity.”
I hung there wondering how long I'd have to undergo this torture. At what point would I let myself drop back to the ground to accept defeat?
“She can't do it,” Lilac purred.
I couldn't let her win. Not yet. Not
Lilac
.
I pulled a third time, and this time gave it all I had. I visualized my arms folding, my chin rising above the bar. Struggling, I rose a little.
Turning to Ronan, Lilac shouted across the gym, “She can't do it.”
“What?” Ronan yelled back, though I was sure the neighboring islands had probably been able to hear Lilac crowing my defeat. Acting indifferent, he strode to the hanging rope. Someone gasped as he peeled off his shirt.
I
gasped as he peeled off his shirt. He mopped his brow with it, as though bathed in sweat, but I knew he couldn't be. He stared at us, and I sensed attention migrating to him. Almost as though he were compelling the Acari to stare.
I dangled there, knowing I needed to do something, anything.
Do what it takes,
he'd said. But what?
He dipped into a bucket of chalk, rubbing his hands together. In a single, elegant leap, he mounted the rope.
All eyes were on him now. I knew I should pull mine away, but I was mesmerized. Ronan's legs were held in front of him in a pike position, his every muscle flexed, hard and still. His back, neck, abs . . . his entire body looked carved from stone. Everything but for his arms, which began to pump hand over hand, sending him flying up the rope.
I forced myself to look away. He was doing this for
me
. This was my one shot.
Shutting my eyes, I tried again. Pulled as hard as I could. I held my breath, afraid I might make a sound.
I felt a hand on my butt and then a hard shove upward. It was gross and intimate and startling. And it was what I needed to pull my chin up over the bar.

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