Backing up, Cindy knocked into Georgia, who was quivering with laughter.
It was just a dumb joke.
Cindy made a fist and smacked Georgia on the shoulder. Not hard, but enough to show this wasn’t funny. “You ass,” she hissed. “You freaking scared me.”
Georgia smiled. “Scared the piss out of you?”
Cindy wanted to be mad, but a giggle came out. While Cindy wasn’t really friends with anyone at the Center, Georgia was okay. They wouldn’t be buddies out in the Real World, but at the moment it felt pretty good to laugh a little.
“Hey,” Georgia whispered, leaning closer. “Want to scare those dicks?”
She jerked her thumb in the direction of the camp. Cindy nodded. Frightening the boys was less than they deserved, but it was a good start.
“How?”
Georgia reached into her pocket, and for a fantastic moment Cindy hoped Georgia was carrying, that she was taking out a pipe and they’d smoke some ice right now. But the fantasy died when Georgia pulled some ketchup packets from her jeans. How could she have gotten meth anyway? Cindy’d been at the Center for four months, and security was tighter there than it was in rehab.
Besides, Cindy thought, I’m done with that shit.
Cindy had been clean for months, and wanted to stay clean for the rest of her life. Maybe there would even come a day when she didn’t think about meth every few minutes. That would be nice.
“We gonna throw ketchup at them?”
Georgia shook her head. “I took these from the fridge, hoping I’d get a chance to use them. I squirt it all over my face and shirt like blood, coming running out of the woods screaming, and fall right in front of those jerks. Then you come up from behind and yell and grab them. They’ll shit squirrels.”
Cindy nodded, liking this idea. She especially wanted to freak out that tool, Meadow.
“What do I yell?”
Georgia shrugged. “I dunno. Boo?”
“Boo is lame.”
“You’ll think of something. Help me spread this shit on.”
The ketchup was warm, and smelled good. For dinner they cooked hot dogs over the fire, but Cindy declined, saying she was still ill from the boat to avoid admitting the real reason. Now her stomach rumbled at the scent. Cindy smeared some ketchup on Georgia’s neck, then licked her finger. Not bad. Maybe there were hotdogs left. Maybe Tyrone was hungry, too, and he could roast one for her.
Stupid. He watched me barf. He’s not interested.
Georgia stopped applying ketchup to her face and stared at Cindy in a funny way.
No, not at her. Behind her.
“Lemme guess,” Cindy said, still sucking her finger. “Some creepy guy behind me again?”
Georgia opened her mouth, but no words came out. She nodded, her head bobbing up and down rapidly.
“I’m not falling for that shit twice, Georgia. It wasn’t funny the first time.”
Georgia’s lips began to tremble, her face crinkling in a prelude to a scream. Cindy had no idea Georgia was such a good actress. She hadn’t been this good the previous time.
And for that very reason, Cindy suddenly understood this wasn’t acting. Georgia really was seeing something behind her, and she really was terrified.
Cindy didn’t want to look. The fear crawled over her like ants, and her legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds. Georgia had lost all color now, and she was whimpering like a puppy.
Look. You have to look. Just do it.
Eyes wide, mouth dry, knees knocking together, Cindy slowly turned around, expecting to see some horrible ghoul with huge teeth grinning inches from her face.
She looked.
There was nothing. There was nothing there at all.
Cindy spun, pissed off she fell for the same trick twice, ready to give Georgia another cuff on the shoulder.
But Georgia was gone.
Sara frantically pushed against the body on top of her. She knew judo. Hell, she taught her kids basic self-defense at the Center. But now, when she was being attacked, her mind went completely blank, and all Sara could do was push.
She felt breasts, and higher, closely cropped hair.
“Laneesha?”
“Sara!” The teen’s breath was warm on Sara’s face, and then she was rolling off. “Couldn’t find my way back, so I ran toward the flashlight. What happen to it?”
Sara tried to get her breathing under control. The darkness screamed at her. “It flew into the woods.”
“Shit. Dark as hell out here. Feels like we got swallowed up by somethin’.”
Sara sat up, heart hammering, squinting into the blackness all around them. “It’s a Maglite. Those things don’t switch off accidentally. It probably rolled under some leaves so we can’t see it.”
“How we find it?”
“Couldn’t have gone far. You stay where you are, keep talking to me. I’ll crawl around you and find it.”
“You gotta talk, too, or I’m gonna freak out.”
Me too. But I can do this.
Sara crawled off, slowly circling the girl. By judging where Laneesha’s voice was coming from, she should be able to cover the area in a widening spiral, without missing any spots or getting lost. In theory, at least.
“If y’all remembered, I voted for horseback riding for our last trip, not camping on some scary ass island. Sara, you there?”
“I’m here.” The ground was rough under Sara’s palms, sticks and rocks poking her, cold dirt wedging beneath her fingernails. She went counter-clockwise, gradually orbiting away from Laneesha.
“I don’ wanna go to juvee, Sara. I feel like I been making progress, y’know?”
Sara couldn’t hold the darkness back. She had to focus on something else. On finding the light. On finding Martin. On Laneesha.
Focus on Laneesha. Be there for her.
“You’re doing great, Laneesha.”
Laneesha was making progress. Sara had no doubt that when she was allowed back in society, she’d do well. After getting pregnant at sixteen, Laneesha began stealing to make ends meet. When she got arrested at a department store for attempting to steal several thousand dollars worth of jewelry, the state took her daughter. Since coming to the Center, Laneesha had worked hard, studied for her GED, and showed impressive determination to go straight and get her child back.
“You’ve only got a month left until your next hearing, Laneesha. It will fly by. You just stay out of trouble until then.”
“Y’all be at court with me?”
Sara touched a bush ahead of her, feeling through the branches, shaking them to see if they were hiding the light. They weren’t. The darkness seemed to get thicker.
“Of course I’ll be there.”
“Martin, too?”
“Martin, too.”
“Even though y’all are getting’ divorced?”
Sara stopped. “Divorced? Where did you hear that?”
“Didn’t hear it. Takin’ a guess. You both don’ look at each other like you used to. Figure now the Center is breaking up, y’all will too.”
Sara chewed her lower lip. She and Martin had been growing apart for years, but when the government cut the Center’s funding he withdrew completely. That was the definition of ironic; two psychologists specifically trained to understand human nature and communication, unable to save their marriage even though they still loved each other.
The only thing left was for Martin to sign the divorce papers. But he hadn’t yet. They arrived yesterday, but instead of getting it over with he chose instead to ignore them, and her.
Sara knew their marriage was over. Once communication failed, so did intimacy. But she still entertained the fantasy of miraculously patching things up over campfire stories and sleeping bag snuggling.