Wilder Girls - Rory Power Page 0,24

behind after a picnic.

I glance over my shoulder before prying the cooler open with my dirty fingernails. Probably just an old tackle box of Mr. Harker’s, but worth checking.

I’m expecting moldy bait, a bundle of hooks and some fishing line, but it’s not that at all. The outside of the cooler is covered in grime, but inside is clean, as though it’s been wiped down. And sitting there at the bottom, in a clear plastic bag sealed with bright red tape, is a vial of blood, labeled “Potential RAX009” in handwriting I almost know.

“Hetty?” Welch’s voice drifts through the trees, urgent and clipped.

I slam the cooler shut and pile the leaves back onto it. Whatever this is, I don’t think I was ever supposed to see it.

“Are you there?” Welch calls again, and I get to my feet, hoist my bag back up over my shoulder.

“Here,” I say, pulling my hat from the branches and climbing from the spruce stand.

She comes hustling through the trees, all noise and frantic steps. Blood on her cheek, a rip in her jacket, her hair coming out of its braid. In a second she’s in front of me, and she grabs my shoulders, gives me a shake.

“What the hell, Hetty?” she says, and she’s not Miss Welch, scolding me for missing curfew. She’s just another girl left threadbare by the Tox, left worried and worn. “You were supposed to keep going.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I just…I was worried about you.” I was scared to be on my own, that’s the truth, but I’m not about to tell it. “What about the bobcat?”

“It’s dead,” she says. “But, Hetty, I gave you an order. Next time you have to follow it, okay?”

I nod quickly. “I will.”

She checks over my shoulder, eyes lingering on the spruce trees, and I shift a little. I want to ask if she knows about the cooler, if she knows what RAX009 means, but I remember the way she looked at me on the dock. The way we know things we’re not supposed to talk about. Is this another test? Is keeping this secret part of my job, too?

Welch frowns. “You okay?”

Better safe than sorry.

“Yeah,” I say, and paste on a smile. “Let’s get home.”

* * *

—

We cut back to the road, move quick toward the house. Here the beginning of a path, there an open patch of grass, rubble scattered like gravestones. I blink hard, feeling the blindness in my right eye.

Sweat turning cold in the late fall air, and I’m shivering by the time we near the gate, deep in the afternoon. I forgot what it was like to see the white crest rising over the trees. Up on the flattop roof the Gun girls are two silhouettes. I wonder what I look like to them.

There’s a dead coyote by the gate, flies swarming around its bloodied face. Julia and Carson are waiting just beyond it, sitting propped up against the fence, and they get to their feet as we approach, weaving around the carcass.

“Remember,” says Welch, low and close to my ear. “Big smile. It’s our job to show the girls inside that everything’s fine.”

My lungs are still tight from running, my hands heavy with the food we threw over the side, but I stand up straight and do my best to put it all away. These secrets are mine to keep now. They picked me because they thought I could handle it, so I will.

Welch unlocks the gate and we slip through single file, and through the front doors of the house. I set down my bag, look pointedly away from the girls clamoring around to get their shot at what’s inside. There’s Byatt waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me. And tilting her head, and not saying anything.

“Where’s Reese?” I ask once I’m close enough.

“Haven’t seen her all day.” Byatt reaches for me. I want to sag against her, to let her hold me up, but I’m not supposed to let anybody see. “Okay?”

“Tired.”

Behind me, a set of measured footsteps, and when I turn it’s Headmistress, concern shaping her face into something almost motherly.

“Are you quite all right?” she says.

I nod, ignore the building pressure in my chest. “I’m fine. It’s just a lot to take in.”

“Why don’t you head upstairs?” Headmistress lays her hand on my shoulder, fingers trembling like the Tox is alive inside them. “Some rest will do you good.”

“She’s right,” Byatt says. “Come on.”

“But the food…” A