The Believing Game (9 page)

“Yeah, sure.” I tried to ignore the sinking feeling beneath my ribs — the lingering sense that something was wrong. That some of this had all been scripted ahead of time, but only Addison and Joshua had cue cards.

“That's great, Greer.” Addison sat back and beamed. “I knew she would,” he told Joshua. And then said to me, “This is going to be an amazing time for us.”

 

After dinner, when Addison was dropping me off, I tipped my head back to kiss him and he said, “I know it's not supposed to be the point of a retreat, but I'd love to just have one night when I don't have to take you back to your dorm. Won't that be incredible? I just want to watch you sleep.” Which was decidedly less creepy than Joshua saying it.

And if Addison could make my time in adolescent lockdown feel like a vacation, what could he do with an overnight in the country? I let myself imagine us outside the confines of the academy for a whole two days. The luxury of falling asleep next to him in front of a television. Time away. Time together. Yes, Joshua would be there. But I could handle that drawback. The upside was a weekend with my friends. With Addison. After those first lonely weeks at McCracken, I felt like I'd earned it.

It took some time to convince Sophie.

“I can't call my dad and ask to host my new friends from rehab at the family lake house,” she said. “Seriously, Greer.”

“It's asking a lot of you.” I was inadvertently channeling Joshua's way — acknowledging the obvious problem and
waiting for the other person to find a way to overcome it. He'd call it
readying the path for goodness
or something flaketastic like that.

“Too much. And honestly, it's asking something of the parental figures. Asking them for anything is too much right now.”

“What if you didn't ask?”

“Meaning?”

“Do you have a key?”

“No,” Sophie said. Then, shaking her head, she told me, “But I know where it is.” And I knew I had her on board.

 

Over the next week, Joshua continued to work his magic. I kept waiting for someone in one of the plush offices of Westlands Hall to notice that this middle-aged man had managed to insert himself into the daily schedules of so many McCracken students. But they didn't. Instead, they lent him a van and allowed him to take us off campus.

He told them we were going to build houses for Habitat for Humanity. To build character.

Joshua assigned me the task of inviting Hannah Green.

“Why should I be the one to ask her?” We were sitting on the steps of the Walcott building. Lately I'd started waiting there until Addison and Joshua wrapped up the NA group.

Joshua said, “It will make her happiest to know that you want her there.”

“See, that just shows how little you understand about girls. I'm the last person she cares about. Addison should ask her —”

“Hannah, like all the other young ladies at McCracken Hill, knows very well that Addison is taken.” Joshua thought that kind of bullshit line worked on me. That was sup
posed to get me all preening and pleased. Then I'd be so distracted panting over Addison that I'd just follow Joshua's instructions. Okay, so those lines had worked in the past. But as soon as I realized it, I started working on it. Amending my vanity.

I pointed out, “There's Jared. And Wes. She'd be happier to be invited by them.”

“False. You presume that other young women value each other as little as you do, Elizabeth.”

“That's not true.”

“Which isn't true?”

I hadn't heard a choice in the question. But I picked the point most important to me. “I value other women.” I looked back and forth between them. Addison said nothing. Joshua said less. “There are plenty of women who I admire. And if I'm such a terrible female, Joshua, why pick me to ask Hannah? I might influence her in some way.”

Joshua stood up and looked out toward the parking lot. “Because I'm hoping she'll influence you.”

 

I didn't want to keep arguing, so I agreed to do it. I showed up at Hannah's door as she was leaving for breakfast the next morning. When she heard me call out for her, she stopped in her tracks and darted her eyes around.

“Has anyone talked to you about this weekend?” I asked. “You know — Addison or Sophie or anyone?”

“Is there another party?” Hannah asked as if that would be the only reason people would get together and hang out. She was probably that kid who only saw the inside of other kids' houses when the entire class was invited for birthday parties.

“It's no one's birthday, but it's going to be a great weekend. We're going away, on a retreat.”

“A retreat from what?”

I waved my arm, gestured toward the length of the corridor. “Well … from this.”

Now I had her interest. “How will you do that?”

“We actually have permission from the dean and everything. We'll stay at a cabin in the Poconos from next Friday night until Sunday evening curfew.”

“Who?”

“Well, I'm going.” Hannah did not seem impressed. I wish Joshua could have seen her blank look. “Sophie's going. Addison. Jared Polomsky. Wes.”

“Three boys, three girls. How'd you get the dean to allow that?” I hadn't even noticed how coupled up we sounded. Hannah was right. It sounded a little insane that the dean would give us the go-ahead. Maybe Joshua could work miracles after all.

“Joshua is taking us.” She looked confused. “You know, Joshua Stern? Addison's friend. He runs a group on campus.”

“The old guy?” I swallowed a snicker. “He runs a Narcotics Anonymous group.”

“He does.”

“I'm not a drug addict.”

“Okay.” I kept trying. “It's not that kind of retreat, though. I mean, it is, but not necessarily for drug addictions. We all have ways in which we're not living up to our potential.” Hannah just kept staring at me. She certainly wasn't acting as if she'd been sitting in her room, pining after inclusion in our little circle.

“Do I have to join a club?”

“No. We like to think of ourselves as an elitist clique, but there's no sign-up sheet or anything.” Hannah didn't even crack a smile. “I'm in charge of figuring out a menu for the weekend. Any requests?” Hannah shook her head. “Are you a vegetarian? Or do you have any allergies or anything?”

“I'm a vegan. And I'm allergic to wheat.”

“Oh wow, really? Okay. Okay, I'm glad I asked.”

“Do you still want me to come?”

“What? Yeah, of course.”

Hannah smirked a little and started down the hall. She called over her shoulder, “Really?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Hannah stopped walking and broke into laughter. “I lied,” she told me.

Maybe I needed a translator. Someone who spoke crazy. “Hannah, I don't get it. I don't understand.”

“It was just a joke. I'm not really vegan or allergic to wheat.”

“You're seriously so strange.” Joshua wouldn't approve of that comment, but it's not like Hannah argued with me. She still agreed to come.

When we finally piled into the van, I realized it would be my first night away since climbing out of my dad's SUV three months before. I felt giddy about the prospect of deciding for myself when to turn out the lights and couldn't even comprehend the possibility that Addison might be there beside me at bedtime. We'd loaded the bags into the back and Joshua had called for me to ride shotgun up front. Sophie just shrugged and handed up the directions. About forty-five minutes into the trip, we pulled into a Pathmark and Joshua sent Hannah and Sophie in with me to do the shopping.

“Is that because it's women's work?” Sophie was laughing, but I knew her well enough to know she meant the question.

Joshua simply said, “Your words.”

The three of us had hopped down into the lot when Jared called out, “Wait!” and handed two twenties up to the front.

“Hey, thanks for thinking of that.” I meant it. “You want anything special?”

He exhaled. “I've been craving root beer. I haven't had a root beer in six months.”

Sophie laughed. “Jared's living dangerously,” she said.

“Anyone else want to kick in?” I called out and studiously avoided looking at Joshua. Nothing. Crickets. “Okay. Let's do this.”

Hannah pushed the cart. I worked through the list and sent Sophie to pick up the things I didn't find just glancing through aisles. “Why do you need two gallons of vegetable oil?” Hannah hauled an oversized jug off the shelf.

“Dunno. Joshua added that.”

“What's it for — some weird sex thing?”

Hannah Green: showing signs of life. I laughed. “We can only hope, right?” And laughed again to make sure she knew I was kidding. At the checkout, the lady at the register raised her eyebrows at the volume of food: six cases of soda, four boxes of Cheerios, five pounds of chicken. “Family vacation,” I said. Sophie chose that moment to show up with a pack of condoms.

“Don't say no.” She answered my raised eyebrows. “It's just in case. You don't know what'll happen when we're all feeling cozy in front of the fire.”

The checkout lady read the total without looking at me. I whipped out the credit card and ran it through, adding sixty dollars in cash back. With Jared's forty, that gave us a hundred dollars in an emergency.

It took both Hannah and me pushing to get the cart moving again and Sophie helped guide us out the door. As soon as we reached the fresh air, Hannah erupted in giggles. She looked really pretty, with her head thrown back, laughing.

“Thanks so much for that moment of supreme awkwardness, Sophie.”

“What? The condoms? I'm just looking out for you, sister.” In the distance, the van doors rolled open and the boys rushed to help us load up. Joshua rolled down his window and nodded at our haul.

“You've embraced abundance, Elizabeth. I'm proud of you.”

We got everything into the back of the van and strapped on seat belts. Joshua backed out of the space.

Wes rummaged through the bags. “Tell me you bought cookies.” He landed on a bag of flour. “Or maybe stuff to bake cookies?”

“Don't get your hopes up,” Sophie informed him forlornly. “I saw a lot of vegetables.” Jared groaned but in the way I always imagined my hypothetical big brother might groan when my mom said the whole family had to go to my dance recital. A sitcom-big-brother kind of groan.

“Whose genius move was it to put the anorexic in charge of food for the weekend?” Sophie bellowed from the backseat, and for a second or two, no one said a word.

At McCracken Hill, we didn't really use that term. We called the NA kids addicts. And the AA kids alcoholics. Girls like me had “boundary problems,” but I'm not sure if they meant the sex or the stealing. But the eating thing was different. For one thing, if we'd been really sick, there were other places for us to go. Hospitals. Care facilities. I'd never been that sick. That thin. That would have required a kind of concentration I hadn't yet demonstrated. Instead, I fucked up in little ways across the board. So we didn't say
anorexic
or
bulimic
, we said
disordered
. Maybe for insurance reasons. Maybe for morale?

“Elizabeth is not anorexic,” Joshua declared without even looking away from the road. “Elizabeth is stubborn.”

“That's right,” I said. “And Addison was just thirsty.” I turned up the volume on the stereo and we drove on. When we exited I-80 the route got complicated enough that Sophie needed to switch seats with me in order to navigate. She climbed over all the legs and tumbled into the front. I scooted back and Addison pulled me into his lap.

“You having fun yet?” he murmured in my ear. I leaned into him and let my eyes close. The sun warmed my face and some man crooned over the radio.

“As soon as we left the parking lot,” I told him. “Best weekend of my life as soon as we left.” The strip malls and fast-food huts thinned out on the side of the road until finally we saw a shuttered gas station and Sophie's hand pointed right.

“Turn here.” Tall pines lined the patchy asphalt. “It switches to gravel partway up,” she said. “So don't slow down up the hill. We've gotten stuck before and that's a mess.” I saw the nerves kick in. “It's not like we could even call someone for help.” Sophie craned her neck back.

I reached out to pat her shoulder. “Relax. Just breathe. We won't get stuck.”

“Listen to that positivity,” Joshua crowed. “That's the radiance that's going to lift us all up.”

Ahead of us, the pointed roof of the cabin stretched to the sky like a steeple. “This is really the place?” I asked, incredulous. The way Sophie had talked, I'd pictured a cute little cabin. This was a bit more imposing. All glass peaks and wood beams, with skylights and solar panels glinting on the sides of the roof. “Dude. I just got replaced as resident rich girl. Just so you know.”

“Shut up.” Sophie looked mortified.

Hannah said, “But we all come from money, right?”

Sophie said, “Maybe can we please just stop talking about this?”

“No, really.” Apparently, Hannah was now determined to solidify the group. “McCracken Hill's a pricey place. And I can't imagine you get scholarships to schools for” — she searched for a McCracken-approved euphemism — “challenging students like us. So all of us must come from
comfortable homes, right? That's one way we all have common ground.”

“Okay, but there are different kinds of comfortable,” Wes said, with an awkward glance at Addison.

The inside of the house was that rich kind of rustic. As Joshua explored the place, the rest of us unpacked the groceries in the kitchen, and Hannah stopped at a family photo. Young Sophie sat there, her wide smiled encased in braces.

“Your sister is gorgeous.” Hannah gasped. At first, I rolled my eyes, but then I actually snuck a peek at Josie Delia. Holy smokes. Talk about fraternal-twin inferiority complex. The boys craned to see. Sophie concentrated hard on organizing cans of soup in the cupboard.

“Wow. That's Josie?” I searched her face for a reaction. Nothing. Just an intense interest in the main ingredients of Cheerios.

“That's Josie, all right.”

“And that's your brother?” Hannah breathed. He too was beautiful. He had Sophie's big grin and Josie's dark curls. Obviously older, he had his arms spread around both girls. He smiled directly at the camera. Josie seemed to gaze slightly off into the distance. Sophie's eyes seemed to be fixed on him. She squinted through the sun.

“I didn't even know you had a brother,” I said.

“I don't.” Five heads swiveled to look at her, including mine. “He's dead.” She said it simply, with no inflection in her voice at all.

The floorboards began creaking all at once. All of us shifting our stances, trying to figure out what to say next. After a few beats of silence, Joshua called out from the living room, “When we're settled, I'd request your attendance at a
family meeting, please.” He sat in a big leather chair next to the hearth.

We drifted toward him, but I reached back to squeeze Sophie's hand. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, because when I'd said,
I didn't even know you had a brother
, my tone had been hard, offended that she hadn't told me.

Sophie stepped forward to sit on the brick ledge by the fireplace. “It's really no big deal,” she said.

Joshua asked, “Elizabeth, do you still feel comfortable preparing the meals for us?”

“Yeah, I mean, anyone can help, but I can handle it.” We'd covered this, I felt like telling him. Several times.

“I'm going to request that no one offer help.” Joshua clasped his hands under his chin. “Do you understand these instructions? Can you comprehend why I've made this decision?”

“I'm assuming it's a food thing,” I said.

“That's an unfortunate assumption.” The others stared at me as if I'd answered wrong in math class. Joshua said soberly, “I'm assigning you the responsibility of preparing our meals because since ancient times we have given that role to the most honored of women. Why would that be the case?”

“Because the most honored of men busied themselves golfing or something?” I said. No one laughed.

“Addison. Please explain the reason behind this history.”

“Well, only the most trustworthy of women were given the task of handling food. You know, to prevent poisoning.”

“You are beloved to me,” Joshua said. “This request demonstrates that.”

“Thank you, Joshua. Should I start preparing a supper?”

Joshua smiled and nodded. “That sounds excellent.” I stood up and Addison grabbed my hand. He opened my palm
and kissed it. As I walked away, I shut my fist tightly as if I could hold on to that moment.

Honor or not, leaving the group behind and starting work in the kitchen felt odd. I could hear splinters of the conversation in the next room as I washed and chopped vegetables. Joshua assigned sleeping quarters. Sophie told everyone where to find extra towels and blankets. I heard the boys get rowdy at one point, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Hannah murmured something but it got drowned out in the sizzle of the sauté pan. I found a big pot, put rice on to boil, and when I looked up, Hannah stood there, waiting for directions. “Joshua sent me to set the table.”

Like I was the mom or something. “I don't know where anything is.”

“Do we have paper plates?”

“You could just open up the cupboards. Look around a little. Or ask Sophie.” I went back to the two enormous frying pans on the stove.

“Are you mad about something?” The front pan seethed and I added the chicken. “I'm sorry no one's helping you, but Joshua said —”

“I heard Joshua, Hannah.” And then because it had come out so harshly, I added, “I was right there.”

Hannah opened and closed the rows of cupboards. “I feel weird just nosing through someone's stuff.” I kept stirring. “You didn't know about Sophie's brother?” I shook my head. “That's weird. Maybe we should have picked another place to stay, you know?” I stared intently into the steam rising from the pan. “Joshua had asked how much longer. He sent the boys out to collect firewood.”

“How very gender-appropriate.” I hadn't looked up, but I felt Hannah's presence still in the doorway.

She just stood there. Finally, “How much longer?”

“Maybe ten minutes.” My voice sounded flat. I felt an inexplicable lump in my throat and the urge to go home — all the way home, not just back to my sparse room in Empowerment Hall.

“Great!” Hannah sounded like a stir-fry cheer squad. “It smells incredible!”

“Thanks!”

Once we were all settled around the table, I felt better about everything. Sophie must have brought out a tablecloth and candles. Joshua sat at the head and we had just enough room to crowd around. He'd asked Addison to say grace before we ate, and we all grabbed hands before we bowed our heads. Like it was natural. As if we always did that.

“Bless us, Lord, with your bounty,” Addison intoned. “Thank you for the food and the family. For the opportunity to each play our part. Teach us to walk in your light.”

“Amen.” Joshua said it first, setting off a chorus around the table. “Why don't you serve supper now, Elizabeth?” It felt like a test I should have studied for. I passed his plate to him first — that was a no-brainer. Then Addison's. Then I figured I should serve the rest of the boys because it might seem strange to skip over them. I filled Hannah's plate before Sophie's because Sophie was the closest we had to a host. Then I served myself.

When I sat down, Joshua picked up his fork. Then the others all started eating too.

“So good, Greer,” Wes told me, avoiding the chicken but eating the rest. Jared nodded. The truth was we all ate together all the time in the dining hall, but it felt different to gather around a table in an actual home. As nervous as I was, maybe
the others felt unsure of themselves too. Usually, in the cafeteria, by the time I sorted out my plate and drinks, Wes had started in on his third helping, but sitting down in Sophie's dining room, we were all on our best behavior.

“When we're through here, I expect the gentlemen to clean up so that Elizabeth can rest.” Joshua smiled at me from across the table.

“Of course,” Jared said. “You dry, Addison.”

Joshua scraped a last forkful from his plate. “Wonderful nourishment, Elizabeth.”

“So this weekend away, is she Elizabeth or is she Greer? I mean, what should we call her?” Wes pushed back his chair. “I'm just confused. I'm not trying to be a prick or anything.”

“I'm sorry.” Joshua did not sound a bit sorry. “Does the uncertainty bother you?” I recognized the look on Joshua's face as the one he got when facing down a challenge.