Wilder Girls - Rory Power Page 0,78

little on a divot in the road. “What?”

“We’re gonna send you in first.”

“Just find Headmistress,” Julia says. “Bring her to meet us.”

“I—”

“You don’t have to explain,” I say gently. “You can just tell her we’re waiting. Doesn’t have to be more than that.”

She nods, turns back around, and we keep going, until the railing of the roof deck is visible through the trees. The sight of it releases a catch in my chest, and I exhale long and slow. The sooner we’re there, the sooner this box is out of my hands and I’m back to the danger I’m used to.

We round the last corner and start up the straightaway to the gate. Carson waves to the Gun Shift girls on the roof. I know what they must be feeling, the fear that must be rising as they count our number and count it again.

Things will change without Welch. The order we built for ourselves is already shaky. Without Welch at the center, there’s nothing binding it together.

We put the box down, and I unclip the ring of keys from my belt, sort the iron one out from the others. It’s cold against my fingers, sticking and pulling at my skin. I slot it home and twist, the metal ringing as the lock slides back.

Carson holds the gate open for us. Julia and I carry the box through, setting it down again on the other side. Julia groans as she stretches, the bruise from yesterday visible as her shirt rides up. I wince—it looks even worse than before—and I flex my numbing fingers before pulling the gate shut behind me.

“I just tell her to come out here, right?” Carson is picking nervously at a hangnail. I reach out, take a light hold of her wrist, fight back a flinch at the cold bite of her skin.

“Just tell her it’s important. And put on a good front, yeah? For the girls. Everything’s fine.” I say it as much for me as for her.

She nods, takes a deep breath. “Everything’s fine.”

“Give it five minutes, and everybody will know what happened,” Julia mutters as Carson heads off for the house.

“We can at least avoid a panic,” I say.

“For now.” Julia squints up at the girls on Gun Shift and steps in front of the box. “I’d say we’re due for one eventually.”

It’s only a minute or two of waiting, but it feels like longer, every gust of wind pulling a shiver from my body. At last the front doors bang open, and when I look up, it’s Headmistress barreling toward us.

Her hair’s coming out of the chignon she always wears, and she’s as close to running as I’ve ever seen her. Tan slacks stained with dirt, like she’s been digging around in storage somewhere, and one side of her shirt almost untucked. Behind her, Carson is barely keeping up.

“What happened?” Headmistress says. “Where’s Ms. Welch?”

I cast a reassuring glance at Carson. “There was an incident at the pier.”

“An incident?” Headmistress looks from me to Julia. “Speak clearly.”

“They delivered something unexpected,” Julia says. “Welch didn’t take it very well.”

Carson cringes, and I can’t fight back the memory of a body still warm against my palms. But Headmistress doesn’t move a muscle.

“Are you telling me…,” she starts. But nothing more comes out.

“She killed herself,” I say, voice trembling. “She bled so much, so fast. We couldn’t do anything. We had to leave her behind.”

“Of course,” Headmistress says faintly. “Of course you did.” She sways a little and then rights herself, plants her feet firmly. “Thank you, girls, for telling me. Go on inside and get the food sorted out.”

“Actually,” Julia says, shrugging. And Headmistress looks at our empty hands, at the bags hanging loosely from our shoulders.

“Did you leave it with Welch?” she asks. “Go back out. There’s time before sundown.”

“No, we didn’t.” I clear my throat. I have to say this. It’s the only responsibility I can take. “They didn’t send any.”

Headmistress stares at me for a moment, her face electric with surprise. “What?”

Julia steps aside to show her the box. “All they sent was this. It’s what…upset Welch.”

Headmistress crosses to crouch in front of it. I can tell the second she recognizes the symbol painted on the lid. Her mouth drops, and a frown creases deeply at her brows.

We wait for her to open it, but she doesn’t, and Julia clears her throat. “She said it was designed to—”

“I know what it does.” I wait for her to tell us,