an awesome surprise!”
I breathe a sigh of relief. Good. So my grandmother hasn’t called ahead for me yet.
“Hey!” I say, accepting her bone-crushing hug. “Is Big Jon here?”
“Oh, sure,” she says, fluffing my dreads. “On the phone, I think. Give him a minute. Look at you! Still our healthy girl. Everything okay? Thought you were living in Georgia now.”
“I’m on vacation,” I say, not yet ready to tell her the whole story.
“Alex!” Big Jon’s voice booms from his office. “Hey!”
“Hey! I’m back!”
“I can see that. Savannah treating you well?”
“I don’t know. I don’t love it. And I figured you guys really needed me here, so… I convinced my grandmother to let me come back.”
“Huh,” Big Jon says.
“Has everything been going okay without me?”
“Sure, sure. It’s been tough, of course.”
“Is the Sanctuary doing okay?”
“Oh, you know. We’ve made a few adjustments. I’ll tell you about them later.”
“Maybe I’ll just go see—”
“Who’s this?” he asks quickly, nodding to the girl who has sidled up next to me.
“Crystal,” she says. “Here for the trimming round.”
“Oh, right,” he says, avoiding my eyes. “Wendy, can you take Crystal to the bunks? And Alex… why don’t you just chill while we see what’s up with your old cabin.”
“Is Reggie around?” I ask a bit too eagerly.
“Oh, I think so. Here, how about hanging in the kitchen while I send someone to tell him you’re here.”
“Well, can I just go see… the other kids first?”
Big Jon laughs. “I know you’re psyched to see the dudes, sweetie, but I think they could use help on soup duty. You know the drill. Community!”
“Okay,” I say. He pats my back, and I head down the dim, wood-floored hallway. And I really am going to help out. Seriously. But I figure a quick bike ride around the place before I cut carrots for an hour won’t hurt anything. I mean, forcing me to do KP without even seeing my friends first? That’s just pure torture—one of the issues Big Jon is always having us write letters to the White House about.
Quietly, I head out and grab a rickety community mountain bike off the rack, and then I take off down the path before anyone can call me back. I close my eyes briefly as I coast. It feels so good to be here! I bank right and do a quick tour of my favorite hill path, churning the pedals in the red dust of the south side of the valley. Beyond the green stretch of the main lawn, the Pacific Ocean crashes against the rocks of the RC beach. From the top of the hill, I have a great view of the whole place—the mismatched buildings, the gardens (other than my mother’s root garden, which is tucked away behind a thicket of trees), and the worn playing field, where some kids are playing a lazy game of soccer. I squint my eyes at them, looking for—who else?—Reggie. Yup, there he is, his gangly body knocking around like a rag doll’s as he runs after the ball.
My heart leaps into my mouth—I swear, I can taste it. I need to calm down before we talk. I take a couple of yoga breaths, the way my mom taught me, but that doesn’t really work. I’m dying to talk to Reggie, but if I go sit in the Sanctuary for a while, I’ll calm down enough not to make a total ass of myself. That’s definitely what Mom would say to do. I turn the bike around and bomb down the path, riding as fast as I can through the trees and over the fields, finally skidding to a stop outside the gate, causing a small rainstorm of gravel and dust.
Even through the thick slats of the fence, I can see that something is wrong. It’s too sunny in there. Too bare. The Sanctuary was designed to be a lush sylvan oasis. Where are the trees? And the tall plants and vines? I drop my bike and, after a moment’s hesitation, push open the gate. It gives a foreboding creaking sound that I’ve never noticed before.
It’s gone. The Sanctuary is gone. All the plants, the flowers, the vines my mother spent so many days and years tending. Instead, only mounds of fresh dirt are here, as if someone has planted rows of bodies.
I take a couple of breaths, trying to get a hold of myself. Pathetic as a dog who can’t find its owner, I do a couple of careful laps, searching for any