through in pale streams
I’ve done what I could I’ve tried how I’ve tried
* * *
—
Breathe in breathe out
Keep my eyes open as long as I can I want to see I want to look I want
the woods to fall away
the ocean to crawl up to my feet
the island to come drifting in on the tide
Raxter don’t forget Raxter
It will be like sea glass I will bend down I will look into the rippled surface of it I will see myself suspended inside I will know exactly where I am
I will cradle it in my palms until it dries until the edges have worn off until it has stopped being beautiful
(Roaring a roaring a rush it is coming)
I will keep it anyway
HETTY
CHAPTER 17
“Time. Come on.”
I sit up so fast my head slams against the top bunk. I’d laid awake all night alone in our room, and when I did manage any sleep, it was fitful with nightmares of Mr. Harker, of him turning into Reese.
“Seriously.” It’s Julia, leaning in the doorway. I peer behind her, looking for Welch—she’s supposed to be the one who wakes us—but Julia’s alone. “We don’t have all day.”
“Where’s Welch?” I ask, trying not to sound as nervous as I feel.
“Busy. Get up.”
I breathe deep. It’s just Boat Shift as usual. If Welch knew I broke quarantine and followed her out, I’d be in trouble already.
I rub the crust from my blind eye, take a second to let my vision adjust, and follow Julia down the hallway, half in gloom with the sun not up yet. Somewhere behind me Reese is sleeping in one of the empty dorms.
I keep my gaze resolutely ahead, ignore the pang in my chest. She made herself clear.
We step out onto the mezzanine. Below us I can see Carson standing by the door. She’s got her coat on—she’s always so cold—and she waves when she sees us. But Julia pulls me aside at the top of the stairs.
“Welch and Headmistress were down in the main hall when I came to get you. They’re pissed about something.” She leans over the railing to see the rest of the hall. “I’d rather not get caught in the crossfire.”
It could be about a million things, I tell myself. About dwindling supplies, about managing schedules, about the broken generators. But then Headmistress comes striding out of the hallway leading to the office, Welch on her heels, and it’s clear that it’s not any of those things at all. They look too wrecked for it to be about anything but our most important rule—they must know someone broke quarantine. Maybe they don’t know it was us, but they know it happened.
Welch catches up to Headmistress and they stop, talk in low, strained voices. Headmistress’s hands, shaking so hard I can see it from here. A flush spreading down Welch’s neck.
“Looks intense,” Julia says.
“Headmistress probably found out we weren’t saving her any of the chocolate delivery,” I say, smiling tightly and pushing past her. “Aren’t you the one who said we don’t have all day?”
Headmistress is gone by the time we get downstairs. Welch is a mess in her wake, French braid loose and wispy, blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. Usually, she likes to look as neat as Headmistress, but today there’s a pink stain ringing her lips.
“Let’s go,” she says.
Julia clears her throat. “Hetty and I need our stuff.”
“Well, hurry up, then.” She’s not even looking at us. It should be a relief, proof she doesn’t know it was me, but all it does is set my teeth on edge.
Julia grabs my sleeve and hustles me down the hall to the closet, where we store the jackets and supplies. She pulls open the door, checks the clip in her pistol, counts the bullets while I do up the clasps across the front of my coat. I’m yanking the red hat down low across my forehead when Julia reaches deep into the closet, under a stack of blankets, and fishes out a pistol twin to hers.
“Here.” She holds it out to me, eyebrows raised expectantly.
“No, I didn’t have this last time.”
“I know. Nobody did.”
I eye the pistol warily. Is this a trap somehow? “Did Welch tell you to—”
“Look,” Julia says, “you were on Gun Shift, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, “but we didn’t use pistols.”
Julia barrels on. “And I’ve seen you out in the barn. You’re a good shot. I need a good shot out there today.”
“What for?” I press, Mr. Harker’s face hovering