The sight should bring relief. But with the bracelet now a curl of chain in my fist, it brings only more fear.
That Vivian will come again. If not tonight, then soon.
I’m stronger than everyone realizes, I think, repeating it in my head like a mantra. I’m stronger than everyone realizes. I’m strong. I’m—
By the time I fall asleep—my heart hammering, body rigid, hand tight around my abused bracelet—the chant has mutated into something else. Less reassuring. More panicked. The words pinging against my skull.
I’m not going crazy. I’m not going crazy. I’m not going crazy.
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
In the morning, instead of reveille blaring from the speakers on the mess hall roof, I was yanked from sleep by “The Star-Spangled Banner,” in honor of Independence Day. Vivian slept right through it. When I climbed to her bunk to wake her, she swatted my hand and said, “Go the fuck away.”
I did, pretending not to feel hurt as I headed to the latrine to shower and brush my teeth. After that, it was on to the mess hall, where kitchen workers dished out a Fourth of July special: pancakes topped with stripes of blueberries, strawberries, and whipped cream. I was told they were called Freedom Flapjacks. I called them ridiculous.
Vivian didn’t show up for breakfast, not even fashionably late. Her absence freed Natalie to get a second helping of pancakes, which she consumed with abandon, strawberry sauce staining the corner of her mouth like stage blood.
Allison, on the other hand, didn’t budge from her routine. She put down her fork after taking three bites and said, “I’m so full. Why am I such a pig?”
“You can eat more,” I urged. “I won’t tell Viv.”
She gave me a hard stare. “What makes you think Vivian has anything to do with what I eat?”
“I just thought—”
“That I’m like you and do everything she tells me to?”
I looked down at my plate, more ashamed than offended. I had downed two-thirds of the pancakes without a second thought. Yet I knew that if Vivian had been there, I would have consumed only as much as she did. One bite or one hundred, it didn’t matter.
“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t do it on purpose. It’s just that—”
Allison reached across the table and patted my hand. “It’s okay. I’m sorry. Vivian’s very persuasive.”
“And a bitch,” Natalie added as she slid one of Allison’s untouched pancakes onto her own plate. “We get it.”
“I mean, we’re friends,” Allison explained. “Best friends. The three of us. But there are times when she can be—”
“A bitch,” Natalie said, more emphatically that time. “Viv knows that. Hell, she’d say it herself if she were here.”
My mind flashed back to the previous day. Her witnessing my disastrous attempt to kiss Theo. The smirk playing across her lips afterward. She had yet to bring it up, which worried me. I had expected some mention during the campfire or right before bed. Instead, there had been nothing, and it made me think she was saving it for a later game of Two Truths and a Lie, when it could inflict the most emotional damage.
“Why do you put up with it?” I said.
Allison shrugged. “Why do you?”
“Because I like her.”
But it was more than that. She was the older girl who took me under her wing and shared her secrets. Plus, she was cool. And tough. And smarter than I thought she let on. To me, that was something worth clinging to.
“We like her, too,” Natalie said. “And Viv’s been through a lot, you know.”
“But she’s sometimes so mean to the two of you.”
“That’s just her way. We’re used to it. We’ve known her for years.”
“All our lives,” Natalie chimed in. “We knew who she was and what she was like even before we became friends. You know, same school, same neighborhood.”
Allison nodded. “We know how to handle her.”
“What she means,” Natalie said, “is that when Vivian gets in a mood, it’s best to stay out of her way until it passes.”
* * *
—
I spent the rest of the morning separated from the others in Dogwood, thanks to another advanced archery lesson. I was relegated to the arts and crafts building, where the camp’s other thirteen-year-olds and I used leather presses to decorate rawhide bracelets. I would have preferred to shoot arrows.
After that it was lunch. That time, Natalie and Allison also didn’t bother to show. Rather than eat alone, I declined the ham-and-Swiss sandwich on the menu and headed to Dogwood to look for them. To my surprise, I found them before I even reached the cabin. The roar of voices inside told me all three of them were there.
“Don’t lecture us about secrets!” I heard Natalie yell. “Especially when you refuse to tell us where you were this morning.”
“It doesn’t matter where I went!” Vivian shouted back. “What matters is that you lied.”
“We’re sorry,” Allison said with all the drama she could muster. “We told you a hundred times.”
“That’s not fucking good enough!”
I opened the door to see Natalie sitting shoulder to shoulder with Allison on the edge of her bunk. Vivian stood before them, her face flushed, hair stringy and unwashed. Natalie had her chest thrust forward, as if in the process of blocking a field hockey rival. Allison shrank into herself, her hair over her face, trying to hide what looked like tears. All three of them swiveled my way when I entered. The cabin plunged into silence.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Allison replied.
“Just bullshitting,” Natalie said.
Only Vivian admitted the obvious truth. “Emma, we’re in the middle of something. Shit needs to be sorted out. Come back later, okay?”
I backed out of the cabin, closing the door behind me and shutting out the raging storm taking place inside. Vivian was apparently having one of those moods Natalie and Allison had warned me about.
This time, they couldn’t stay out of its path.
Not sure where else to go, I turned to head back to the center of camp. There was Lottie, standing right behind me. She wore a plaid shirt over a white tee. Her long hair was pulled back in a braid that ran down her back. Like me, she was close enough to hear the commotion coming from Dogwood, and her expression was one of curious surprise.
“Locked out?” she said.