The Boarding School Experiment (10 page)

Fast breathing and steps alerted me to company. Thane came into view, wearing his own wide grin. Hands on his hips, he wasn’t as winded as me, but he wasn’t as fast either. Red brushed his cheeks and he pointed. “Look,” he said in a hushed whisper.

Holy crap. I stilled and stifled an instinctive retreat. A moose grazed in an open glen not far from us. Huge. Majestic. Real. For me, they had an almost imaginary status, seeing one up close was stunning. Thane lowered beside me, and we lay like that a long time, watching, maintaining our silent truce. He held a blueberry to my mouth. The edge of his thumb against my bottom lip felt warm. A rushing sensation hit the spot. I sucked the sweet blueberry into my mouth and bit my bottom lip to erase the feeling.

“Hikers.” Coordinator Steele’s shout from far below was faint, but the moose’s head lumbered up. His ungainly steps moved him out of the glen.

“I want to go there,” I said, looking at the opening, where the wild flowers edged the smooth surface, and a moose hung out.

“Me too.”

“Hikers.” The Enforcer’s voice sounded strident and pissed.

I sighed and Thane clenched his fist in the grass. We rose and turned with reluctant steps to edge back down. Thane clearly had climbing experience too. He knew how to use his feet. He took advantage of the natural holds in the earth.

We met Geneva halfway down, lounging on a rock, and she fell in beside us, keeping pace until we got low enough to reach our annoyed guide.

“Where were you? You went way too high,” Coordinator Steele snapped. A twig stuck out of the side of her bun; it looked like an antennae.

“Just climbing,” Thane said. “Didn’t you say to climb?”

“Your time was up 30 minutes ago. We have to get back.” She stomped flat-footed down the path, grunting with each stab from the thicket. She led with a quicker pace now that we walked in a direction she wanted.

Our steps trailed behind, and we were distracted by every sight and sound, like my little brothers when we went anywhere. Fifty feet from the habitat, Geneva ran ahead, darted to the right, and crawled up some low boulders.

“We’re going back.” Coordinator Steele’s tone said her patience had ended.

“I think these are raspberries,” Geneva yelled, holding red berries high in her fingers and waving them at us. “I can take ’em and bake ’em.”

I wanted to check out the wild berry patch, but thought the guide’s head would explode so I kept trailing her. With her long legs, Geneva could catch up easily if she wanted to.

“Ew, what’s that?” Geneva asked.

“Get away from there,” Thane said, his voice sharp and urgent.

I heard the buzz of flies and smelled the decay before I saw the carcass.

“I think it’s part of an elk,” Geneva said.

“Get away from it,” Thane snapped, like Geneva wasn’t already backing away with her shirt over her nose. Thane grabbed my arm, pulling me left and downwards, making me walk faster.

Coordinator Steele’s mouth opened and closed in terror and her finger pointed straight out.

A bear.

He ambled beyond the nearest outcropping, taller than the boulder behind him, blonde hair, small round ears, shoulder hump.

I stood there, stupidly thinking,
I thought bears were brown.

Thane froze beside me, and spoke very quietly, calmly. “Everyone stay still. Let the bear go away.”

The bear rose on its hind legs. Oh. God. Tall, over six feet.

Coordinator Steele screamed, jerking her arms wildly in the air, and ran.

“No,” Thane said.

Geneva took off too.

The bear charged, a mass of fur and muscles.

Thane tightened his grip on my arm, holding me still, keeping me from tearing after them.

The animal stopped abruptly, dirt puffing around his tracks. Thane drew me back a step.

Geneva had reached some trees and was climbing.

Coordinator Steele continued running and screaming. The bear charged again, giving chase, moving fast.

Thane tugged me down, face down, and put my hands over the back of my neck. “Be quiet, don’t move.”

Geneva screamed.

Thane rose and moved away from me. “Geneva, get higher. Get a lot higher,” he said, still using a soft voice but one loud enough to carry.

I turned my head. Thane moved with cautious steps toward the trees. Geneva perched on a high limb, and the bear circled the base of the tree.

Then the beast charged.

Geneva lost her grip and I couldn’t stop my scream as she hit the ground only feet from the bear. His muzzle swiveled toward us when Thane made loud noises and waved a stick, but only for a moment, then he turned and lunged at Geneva: clawing, biting.

Thane ran toward them, and Geneva curled into a fetal ball, covering her head.

The ground crumbled under my feet and I slid, skidding, trying to reach them too. Not thinking, just moving.

Before Thane got to her, and long before I did, the bear stopped. He’d had enough, enough mauling, enough blood, I don’t know, but he moved on. Geneva lay there, eyes closed, chest rising and lowering in shallow breaths.

“Go get help,” Thane said, and lifted her.

Geneva cried out in pain.

I scrambled down the mountain, screaming as loudly as I could for help, and when I reached the habitat, I pounded on the door with both fists. The sides of my hands burned, but I didn’t let up until the door opened.

The Scientist stood on the other side. “The other two were back ages ago. Where have you been?”

“Bear. Attack. Geneva.” I gasped out the words and pointed toward the trail.

Two of the other teachers pushed passed The Scientist. “Get inside.”

I ignored their instructions. With my hand pressed hard to my aching side, I followed. About ten feet up, I noticed something I’d missed on the way down. A sensible shoe abandoned below a huge boulder. I moved closer. Coordinator Steele lay sprawled behind it, unconscious. She must have slipped while hiding when the bear attacked Geneva. I bent and checked her breathing. Her eyes were closed but her chest rose and fell with ease.

My fists clenched and I almost didn’t want to call for help. But this was as much my fault as hers. I’d known we needed gear. I’d known the hiking guide didn’t know what she was doing. Her badge hung from her collar: Teacher, Coordinator. She didn’t deserve either title. I snatched the laminated card from the clip.

Gravel crunched as two of the teachers came into view, carrying Geneva between them.

Thane stared at me. “What?” His voice sounded breathless, and he bent, hands on his knees, sucking in air.

I shoved the badge in my pocket. “Coordinator Steele must’ve slipped.”

The third teacher, The Scientist, ran to us, pushing me out of the way and bent to check the guide’s vitals. I backed toward Thane.

Additional coordinators had left the habitat and were running up the path toward us. “Go in now,” one said. Thane and I left them to deal with the fallen guide and hurried through the door. A bunch of students had gathered near the entrance, blocking the way, trying to see out. They attempted to question us.

“Let them through,” a coordinator said. “This way.”

She ushered us to an elevator and from there, through the restricted area into a nurse’s office. The clinic was extensive: lab equipment, cabinets, hospital beds. I’d never seen anything like it outside of a hospital. The nurse’s office back home consisted of an exam table, a desk, a sink, and a few cots. This deluxe arrangement made me worry how far we were from the nearest real hospital.

The nurse who met us asked about the incident and any injuries. We had none. Next, she ran through our usual weekly health check questions. “How are you feeling?”

Thane said, “Fine.”

I said, “Freaked. How is Geneva?”

“She’s in good hands, don’t worry. Do you feel freaked regularly or is this new?”

Her cool tone brought out the worst of my sarcasm. “It’s new, since the bear attacked my roommate.”

“Is the feeling mild, moderate, or severe?”

“Severe.”

She checked my pulse with cold fingers and noted something in the chart. “Do you think this will keep you up tonight?”

“I never sleep.”

Her head popped up from the paperwork and her eyes grew intent. “Since when?”

I shrugged and didn’t want to say,
On and off for two years.

“When you got here or before?”

“Before,” I said.

She nodded and lost interest. “Check in with me tomorrow about your anxiety levels. I’ll need an update daily until the symptoms resolve.”

At this point, I was wishing I’d just said
fine
, like Thane. I’d say it tomorrow.

The loudspeakers came on and the blue light flashed.

“Go ahead to the assembly,” the nurse said. “You two are fine.”

“But Geneva…”

“We’ll take care of her, and your coordinator. Give them time.”

Neither of us had asked about the coordinator, but I was glad she’d be okay. We made our way to the amphitheater and were the last to squeeze into the back row: dirty, bloody Thane, and tear-streaked, unkempt me. I brushed my palms over my torn sweatpants and kept my gaze on the director, ignoring the students who stared at me and Thane with curiosity.

The director spoke too close the microphone as usual and the metallic echo was especially strident today. “There have been some bear sightings. Wild bear, so until further notice, all outdoor activities have been suspended.”

Groans of protest covered the startled murmurs at the word
bear
.

“Our decision is final.”

Thane stomped out of the amphitheater. The anger poured off him. He hit the wall with his fist. “What was that?” He didn’t follow his question with muttered curses. The obscenities came out loud and clear.

I had no clue what to say. I stood there, feeling the same outrage and worry about the whole weirdness of this place.

“What kind of wilderness guide runs, screaming, from a bear?”

I wet my dry lips and put a tentative hand on his arm.

Thane said, “This place is whack, and I know you see it. Or are you just accident prone?”

I dropped my hand, feeling like he slapped me.

“What, walking away? Running off in the middle of the argument and planning something nasty as revenge later? You’re good at that.”

He wanted to fight and I had a thousand things to shout back at him, a thousand reasons to scream. One thing held my tongue. One inescapable fact—Thane Trallwyn had just saved my life. I shook my head and ran off, leaving him in his blood-splattered anger.

I stood under the shower way too long, and Kaitlin had returned by the time I got back. She seemed lost. Her eyes were teary, and she kept wringing her hands. I’d never seen Kaitlin without her chipper self-possession. I patted the bed beside me. She sank into me and sobbed. After a few minutes she sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Sorry.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Kaitlin moved away and clicked on the big lamp. “We’ll leave it on. If Geneva returns in the middle of the night, she’ll know we were thinking of her.”

Geneva wasn’t coming back tonight, but I didn’t tell her that. I left her some hope. Besides, I’d never be the one to argue for darkness. I lay back and wondered what my family was doing: watching some reality show, eating TexMex, or hanging out. I wished I could hear Mom and Piper’s take on what happened. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the incident.

I wouldn’t have said I slept at all, but the flashing blue light woke me. I only had a moment free of memory before my gaze met Kaitlin’s bloodshot eyes.

“Geneva.” Kaitlin twisted into a seated position. “She’s fine. Right? Get dressed, and we’ll go check on her.”

“Right,” I said and scrambled up.

Kaitlin lifted the small mango lotion off Geneva’s nightstand. “We’ll take her stuff to the clinic later. And I can bake a Get Well cupcake.”

I twisted my hair into a ponytail and lifted a navy sweatshirt over my head. Despite the chill, I normally hated to wear the clingy thing, but today, I felt the cold worse than usual.

We ran to the amphitheater, and got seats on the first row, close enough to have a view of the director’s socks: one blue and one black. He was colorblind or lazy. I squeezed my eyes tight for a second. Our clothes didn’t matter. I tried to get a read on the announcement by his expression but couldn’t catch a clue from his silly putty face.

As always, he waited until the last student sat before speaking. “After yesterday’s misadventure, we decided it was time to break open some good news. I mean that quite literally. As one of our favorite literary characters would say, ‘A new game’s afoot.’”

“How’s Geneva?” Thane shouted the question from the back.

The director’s mouth tightened. “Geneva and Coordinator Steele are doing well. They need rest. We are not allowing visitors until they’ve recuperated. In fact, they may be sent home to get better. These decisions haven’t been made. I’ll update you when I can and will send your well wishes.” He turned up the volume on his microphone. “Now, back to the game. Everyone, go out and retrieve your egg. Bring them back here.”