The Letting (22 page)

Moments later, I hear reveille. “Gretchen?” She doesn’t stir. “Gretchen?” I repeat, and she moves slightly. “It’s breakfast.” Then I turn and walk out of the cabin into the hot summer day, knowing Gretchen may not be able to drag herself out of bed in time to make it to breakfast. But since she’s been gone for days, surely Margaret won’t be surprised to see Gretchen miss another meal. Truthfully, I think Margaret doesn’t care. She is still willing to believe Lulu is confined to an old cabin, quarantined because of her illness. And considering what Gretchen’s done to me, I did more than enough to help her.

I take a deep breath and walk to Farnsworth’s cabin. I knock on the door, hastily, before I change my mind.

“Good morning, sir,” I offer in the most upbeat voice I can muster. Farnsworth pulls open the door looking better than usual. His normally pale cheeks have a slight blush to them. He is wearing a pair of red silk pajamas. “Sir? Good morning.”

“Veronica,” he exclaims, looking happy to see me. “You came?”

“Of course I did, sir.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Breakfast is in fifteen. If you want to shower, it’s over there.” I point to the latrine. “And please wear a swimsuit. We’ll be heading to the waterfront as soon as breakfast is over.” I turn to go.

“Veronica,” he calls, just as I’ve walked a few feet away. His voice makes my skin crawl, but I turn back to face him. “I just wanted to say thank you.” This I was not expecting.

“You’re welcome, sir.” I feel just the slightest twinge of guilt. I turn and rush away as quickly as possible.

****

The feeling of guilt I have toward Farnsworth is immediately eradicated when I step foot in the mess hall and see Lilly, Violet, and Raven all hunched over bowls of oatmeal, cramming the food in as fast as they can swallow. “Ronnie.” Lilly smiles at me.

“Come try this,” Violet squeals. “It’s called oatmeal. It’s delicious.” She speaks between mouthfuls, and Raven nods along. All three girls dive back into their bowls of oatmeal.

“You’ve never had oatmeal before?” I ask the girls. When I was young my mother would often make me oatmeal for breakfast. It was by no means considered a luxury food. She called it “stick-to-your-ribs” food. Sometimes, it was all we had to eat all day, but at least we had a good start. Come to think of it, I don’t think I have seen oatmeal at all during my time at camp.

“Ronnie.” It’s Willy, behind the counter, waving me over.

“Hi, Willy,” I exclaim, rushing up to him and throwing my arms around his neck. It feels good to have a friend. He gives me a big bear hug and spins me around.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” Willy plops me back on the ground. “I was worried there,” he says, his voice low and hurried.

“You don’t have to worry, Willy. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh I know that, Ronnie. I know. But when they start talking biggest Let in history…” He looks away and shakes his head. “All for what? To keep that little weasel of a Principal Leader we have alive? I say good riddance to him. Everything’s gone from bad to worse since he came into power.” Willy busies himself, pouring milk into glasses. I take another gallon and pour along with him.

“At least we have fresh milk this morning,” I offer, trying to lighten the mood.

“For today,” Willy grumbles. “For today.”

“Just please be careful of what you say. You know Farnsworth and his entourage are here, on campus.”

“Oh, I know.” Willy takes the filled glasses and lines them up on the counter for pickup. “Tell you the truth”—Willy leans in close—“crossed my mind to poison him while he was here.” I start for a second, wondering if I should tell him. No, of course not. This has to be my secret.

“I get it,” I say. “But don’t do it. Poisoning’s not your thing.” He nods, acquiescing. I give him a big kiss on the cheek and start passing out glasses of milk to all the girls at breakfast. I smile at each one as I hand out the milk, wondering how many will be changed by this revolution, and how many will simply die. It’s a harrowing thought, and I fight a chill as I pass out cup after cup.

“Look at this now,” Willy complains. I can hear the disgust in his voice. Slowly he waddles to the fridge and back. This time he carries a few dozen eggs, huge packages of some kind of meat and a bunch of green spears. “Eggs, bacon, and asparagus for their breakfast.” He shakes his head. “And wait, that’s not all.” He waddles away again and comes back with a large bowl filled with small round fruit on a vine. “Grapes,” he announces. “Go ahead, try one.” Willy nods to the bowl.

“No, thanks, Willy. That’s Farnsworth’s breakfast.”

“Just try one,” Willy dares.

“Uh-un.”

“Oh, go ahead, Veronica, why don’t you try one?” I freeze when I hear the voice. It’s Farnsworth. In the commotion of breakfast, I didn’t hear him slither in.

“Principal Leader Farnsworth.” I stand up straight, trying to hide the grapes behind my back. I feel like a child who just got caught sneaking an extra piece of candy. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Willy has taken the grapes and moved away. I turn to the mess hall that is loud and chaotic. “Girls?” I call. Only a few quiet down. “Girls,” I repeat, raising my voice.

Willy picks up two pans from the kitchen and bangs them together. He startles Farnsworth with the noise and smiles a small secret smile at me. A hush falls over the mess hall.

“Thank you, ladies,” I begin. “Now, as most of you know, Principal Leader Farnsworth will be joining us for the next few days, and he is here right now. I would like you all to show him the utmost respect. Principal Leader Farnsworth?” I move to the side. He takes my place at the center of the floor and everyone in the mess hall stands.

“Thank you, ladies.” He walks down the center aisle. “I am honored to be here at your camp. Thank you for inviting me.”

Inviting? The girls are doing a wonderful job of welcoming him. Well, all except Raven. Her arms are crossed in front of her body, and her jaw is set tight. I raise my eyebrows at her, and she understands. Immediately she drops her crossed arms but refuses to smile.

“Well, I hope you all have a wonderful training period here with Veronica.” Farnsworth smiles directly at me. “I know I plan to. Carry on,” he finishes, dismissing everyone.

The girls stand still, unsure of what to do.

“Finish your breakfasts, please, girls,” I say. “And then report to your first period activities.”

A general murmur is heard, but the girls are speaking quietly. I overhear one of them saying she thinks Farnsworth is “cute.” Maybe he is handsome, but to me he is as attractive as a venomous moccasin snake that’s slithered out of the lake and made his home in my boot. Behind me, I hear the clatter of pots and pans being thrown about as Willy cooks Farnsworth’s breakfast. Margaret waltzes into the mess hall to survey the situation. She salutes Farnsworth and glares at me. Raven is standing next to Violet and Lilly, telling them something meant for their ears alone. And I am about to take a non-swimming, uncontrollable bleeder to the waterfront to jump off a barely tethered piece of old wood, held in position by a rusty pipe, all while I secretly poison myself. Today is going to be interesting.

****

It takes Farnsworth a very long time to make it down to the waterfront. “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” he asks more than once.

“Positive.” I want to tell him I’ve only made this trek six times a day, every day, for the past umpteen years. But I don’t. I just keep offering encouraging smiles. Finally, I see water before us. “Just there.” I point ahead. I wish I had my girls with me as a sort of buffer between me and Farnsworth, but I decided to send them to train with the AB’s today, keeping them a safe distance from Farnsworth.

Suddenly he stops.

“Principal Leader Farnsworth, sir? The water’s just there. Are you okay?” I watch him stare blankly ahead. He doesn’t answer. “Sir?” I repeat. “Would you like me to go get some help?” I knew it was a terrible idea when Farnsworth refused to allow anyone to accompany us to the waterfront. He shakes his head, slowly.

“No, thank you Veronica,” he whispers. “I just need a moment.”

“Okay.” I stand there awkwardly next to him. We stand for full minutes and the sun beats down on us, hard. The glare is giving me a headache, so I reach down to a patch of muddy dirt and run my finger through it. I smear the dirt on my cheekbones under both eyes and immediately I am relieved. I stand up and Farnsworth is staring at me.

“What?” I ask. “The sun’s too bright. Want some?”

He nods.

“Okay.” I scoop down to retrieve more mud. “We’re lucky, I didn’t know it rained. Gives us a little mud.” I reach up and smear the mud under one of his eyes. I am very gentle when I smear it, like I am touching one of my girls. I gather more mud and begin to smear it under his other eye when he reaches up and grabs my hand. “Oh!” I say, with a start. “I’m sorry sir, did I hurt you?”

“No,” he snaps, “not at all. I’m a man, Veronica.” He still has a grasp on my arm. “Why would you think you would hurt me by smearing some dirt on my face?”

“Sorry sir.” I am painfully aware he is still holding on tightly to my wrist. “It’s a habit I have from taking care of little girls for so long.”

“I understand.”

“Um, sir?” I look at him directly. “You are still holding on to my wrist. Um…could you please let me go?”

“Reluctantly,” he sighs, smiling at me. I feel my eyes open wide in response to Farnsworth’s creepy smile. He drops my hand, and I desperately feel the need to get clean. My glorious lake is only yards away.

“Uh, let’s swim.” I turn away from him and walk toward the lake. As soon as I hit the beach, I yank off my boots, tank top, and shorts. Without looking back or waiting for him, I run out and dive into the water. The lake feels welcoming and forgiving, and cleansing. I never want to get out. I feel like staying immersed here forever, away from all my problems, but eventually I need air. When I pop my head up, there is Farnsworth, on the side of the lake, waiting for me. I am suddenly, and for the first time ever, extremely uncomfortable in my swimsuit. But I am stuck in the water, and my clothes are lying haphazardly on the beach next to Farnsworth.

I swim toward the shore and stand. I walk to him, aware that he is watching me too closely. But I don’t care. I refuse to let Farnsworth take away the freedom I feel at my waterfront. And for goodness sake, I’m in my swimsuit. I’m not naked.

“Your turn,” I say, standing in front of him on the beach. I feel the water drops make their way from my hair down my face and body. The mud I smeared on my cheeks is long gone, but his is beginning to dry in the sun. I know in a few minutes it’ll become very itchy. “We should get the mud off your face or it’ll itch soon. It’s only a temporary fix.”

“Okay.” He stares at the water like it’s his enemy, and I can tell his confidence is waning.

“Uh, did you wear your swimsuit?” I ask. Slowly he slips out of his athletic pants to reveal a swimsuit underneath. He unzips a sweatshirt and he is wearing some sort of long sleeve swim top under the sweatshirt. I’ve never seen anything like it, but I know better than to question it. “That must be better.” I dig little holes in the sand with my toe. “Were you incredibly hot?”

“No, not at all,” he tells me.

“Oh, okay.” Like Gretchen, he must be cold all the time. “So let’s get started. Why don’t you wash that mud off now?”

He looks as if he’s unable to figure out how. Does this man truly run our government?

“Just squat down and rinse it off.” He does, and when he stands up again, I see he has bruises on both of his cheeks, exactly where I had placed the mud. “What is that?” I ask before I realize what I’m doing. I reach up and touch his cheek but he shies away.

“Nothing.” He moves away from me, embarrassed. “I fell off my horse the other day. Probably some leftover bruising you didn’t notice before.”

“Oh, sure.” I’m shocked by how my light touch could have caused him to bruise like that. “Well then, let’s start by getting your feet wet.” I am painfully aware that for the next three hours, I am going to have to teach a porcelain doll how to swim.

****

Later, Farnsworth sits next to me, exhausted. We are on the beach, staring out at the lake. His breathing is labored, but he looks happy. He should. He was much braver in the water than I ever anticipated he would be, and he has made real progress toward becoming a proficient swimmer.

“Thank you, Veronica.”

“You’re welcome.” I pick up a stick and start to trace shapes in the sand, absentmindedly.

“You know,” he continues, still looking out at the water. “I knew I could trust you.”

“Why’s that, sir?” I am actually curious.

“Because of your loyalty to the government, for one thing. You know the impressive record of Veronica Billings has not gone by me unnoticed.”

I flinch when he says these words.

“Thank you, sir,” I manage to eke out.

“I also know someone who’s been as successful as you would have to be smarter than the rest.”

“Well, that’s very nice of you to say.” I’m still looking at the dirt by my feet. “But I promise I am no smarter than most. As a matter of fact, I am probably one of the least intelligent people you’ll ever meet.” I feel sad as I say these words.

“Why would you say that?” he asks.

“Well, for one thing, I am incredibly naïve.”

“Really? Elaborate, please.”

“Well, I believe just about anything. And I’ve made some bad decisions. And I trust when I shouldn’t.” I wonder if he knows I’m talking about him.

“I don’t believe that,” he debates. “Look at us.” He’s turned, facing me now. “You have been at this camp for what, seven years now?” I nod. “And in that time you must have heard countless stories about me and what a horrible dictator I am.”

“No…” I mumble.

“Of course you did.” He flashes his overly white teeth. “But you’re still here, helping me. You didn’t believe any of the nonsense people told you about me. I know that because you’ve had ample opportunity to let me die out here today, and you haven’t. It’s hard to know whom to trust.” Farnsworth lets his shoulder nudge mine, like we’re old friends. “And I’m glad to know I can trust you.” He interlaces his hand in mine. I pull my hand from his and look him dead in the eyes.