Sisters in Sanity
Page 15

Shit, shit, shit, shit, I thought to myself. I’m so screwed. But even as I knew I was about to get nailed, sent down the river to Level One or worse, part of me didn’t care. I wouldn’t have traded last night for the world.
“We got ourselves a bit of a problem,” Sheriff said. “It’s dark. And we don’t have a good shot of who it was, but we’ve got some ideas. And trust me, we’re going to find out just who our runaway is. So before we get into this further, I’m giving the guilty party this one opportunity to step forward.”
V was practically burning holes through me with her eyes, her brows in full-arch mode. I kept my mouth shut.
“I can’t say I’m surprised. A liar, a cheat, and a rat, that’s who the guilty girl is. And rats don’t come out easy, but there’s ways to smoke ’em out. You girls are gonna help, too. Starting now. If anyone knows who our runaway is and wants to tell us about it, step forward. I can promise you, you’ll be rewarded.”
Tiffany! She would fink me out in a second. She’d been snoring when I left, but who knew if she’d woken up to pee and saw that I was missing. I stared at her and saw that Bebe was looking her way too. But Tiffany was watching Sheriff with rapt attention. She was too dumb to fake dumb. She didn’t know.
“Again, I can’t say I’m surprised, girlies. Disappointed, but not surprised. So how about we add a little incentive to the pot, something to motivate you girls into helping us find our guilty party? As of right now, you are all dropped down a level.”
A yell erupted from the crowd. “No way.” “That’s not fair!” “It’s not our fault.” Everyone protested.
“Quiet!” yelled Sheriff. “You’re right, it’s not fair. But we’re a family here and we take responsibility for each other’s actions. One of you girls broke the rules. So this is the way it’s gonna be until we figure out who ran out last night. Now here’s where you girls can help yourselves. I know that some of you must know what happened. Whoever did this didn’t act alone, is my hunch. So here’s our little game. You have a week, and in that week I want to find out who ran out last night. If any one of you names the culprit in a week, you’ll all be restored to your current levels. If you don’t, you’ll drop down again. Is that understood?”
Another wail went up among the girls. Some were crying. I had to hand it to Sheriff. He was more clever than I’d pegged him to be. And his plan was successful. I knew that the Sisters would never give me up, but there was no way I was going to let everyone drop a level. I took a deep breath and started to work my way through the crowd.
“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Austin,” V said, striding forward, just as Bebe yanked me back by my collar. “I did it. I’m the one who went to St. George.”
Just like that, everyone was silent, and then in unison, everyone gasped.
“Larson, why am I not surprised?” Sheriff said. “I will meet you in my office, girlie. The rest of you are restored to your levels, but let this be a warning: if any one of you runs out again, I will knock all of you down a peg, immediately. So you might want to keep a close watch on each other, to prevent this kind of breach from happening again. Now get to breakfast.”
The crowd shuffled away, atwitter with all the drama. As our unit walked by, Sheriff called out “Hemphill, Howarth, Wallace, Jones, you come here.” Bebe, Martha, Cassie, and I slunk over. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the little club you girlies have formed for yourselves. Don’t think for a second I think any of you is innocent in this monkey business. Just so you know, I’m gonna be watching you very closely, waiting for you to slip up, and when you do, I’m gonna be there to kick your butts. Now get out of my sight,” he said, wiping the saliva from his lips.
Silently, we walked toward the cafeteria. All around us, the other girls were giddy with gossip. “Can you believe it? God, that was so stupid,” one Level Three girl said.
“I know. Like, she’s Level Six. She’s about to get out. Why would she blow it like that?”
I was wondering the very same thing.
As I walked down the hall, I saw her there, standing outside Sheriff’s office, looking small, with a goon guard on either side of her. She was staring at me, trying to impart one of her silent cryptic messages. I knew she wanted me to look back at her, to receive the message. I knew that I should. I should be grateful. She saved my ass, took my fall. But I couldn’t look at her and I wasn’t grateful. I was furious.
Chapter 17
“Are you going to leave your bed like that?” Missy asked me.
“Am I going to leave my bed like what?”
“All messy. Your sheets aren’t even tucked in.”
“You’re not serious.”
“I most certainly am. Pride in your home space is a sign of self-respect.”
“You caught me. I have no respect for myself.”
“You’re being sarcastic, right? It’s so not funny.”
“A sense of humor is a sign of self-deprecation,” I said and turned away, leaving my rumply bed rumpled.
Of the various maladies that had befallen the Sisters in Sanity, Missy was among the worst. Two days after my breakout, the day after V was stripped of her Level Six status, Sheriff began to make good on his threat. At roll call that next day, one of the counselors informed me that as of that night, I would no longer be rooming with Bebe and Martha. After dinner, I was marched to a room in the other wing to find my stuff had already been moved, and I had a new roommate. Missy was the queen of the Stockholm-syndrome girls and one of Red Rock’s greatest success stories. After her parents enrolled her for ditching school to smoke pot a couple of times, she’d had a full-on turnaround and now she was a born-again good girl who loved to work her program and who gushed about being in AA like it was a sorority. When prospective parents wanted to know more about Red Rock, Sheriff would have Missy call them up and spew crap about how the school had saved her life. She was on the promotional video. Her picture was in the brochures.
As I unpacked, Missy watched me through squinted eyes, like she was trying to x-ray my stuff. When I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, she followed me and kept staring as I flossed.
“Do you mind?” I asked.
“Yes. I do. I mind that you’ve been here six months and you’ve made no progress. I mind that you have an attitude. And I mind that you’ve wasted everyone’s time. But now, you’re mine to mind.”
I just stared at her. She couldn’t be serious.
The rest of the Sisters were in similar sinking boats. Bebe had been moved into a room with a Sixer named Hilary, another brochure girl who was pals with Missy and followed Bebe around just as doggedly as Missy did me. Cassie had also been moved, which made no sense because V was moved out of Cassie’s room. It was a tough call, however, to say who had it the worst: V or Martha. Martha still roomed with Tiffany, but the newly promoted Tiffany was on a crazy Level Six power trip. And V? Well, usually when you got sent back to Level One for some offense, you stayed in isolation for a few days at most before starting the long climb back up the level ladder, but after three weeks, V was still in her little room, shoeless and wearing her frayed pj’s all day. The powers that be were really pissed off, and they were taking it out on V for what I’d done. Maybe I should’ve felt sorry for her or relieved or grateful, but when I thought about V, I still felt mad.
“I can’t say that I didn’t warn you about Virginia Larson,” Clayton said to me in a session after the breakout. She had that self-satisfied look on her face, the one that made me want to throw something at her.
“You did warn me,” I said, hoping that would stop the conversation in its tracks. No such luck.
“I told you she was a bad influence, that your mere association with her would have negative repercussions for you. It’s a fact of life that sometimes the actions of others rub off on us, and we have to take responsibility. And now you’re forced to accept responsibility for V’s irresponsibility. Isn’t that ironic, Brit?”
It was actually more ironic than she knew, and though this was one of the few times I agreed with Clayton, I wasn’t about to say so. I halfway suspected that she knew the truth and was hinting at it to bait me. Sheriff, on the other hand, took the more blatant tack. Every time I saw him, he pointed to his eyes with two cocked fingers and then pointed them back at me. “I’m watching you, Hemphill. Waiting for a slip-up.”
Whatever. With the constant surveillance, things were pretty depressing around Red Rock. The one bright spot was Jed. Less than a week after the show, I got a letter from him.
Dear Brit:How are you? I hope you are well and are doing fine in school, not having any trouble or anything like that. I’m sure I would’ve heard about it. You’re a smart girl and I trust you are progressing fine.Not much to report here since my last letter. It’s springtime and we’ve had some spectacular days. Of course, it’s still freezing, but that doesn’t stop all the students in town from running around in shorts and sandals. I stay warm in my favorite suede jacket. It has such a nice smell to it.Uncle Claude has returned from his tour and I thought you’d like to know that he said he enjoyed Utah very much. Apparently, the concert was well received and Claude had some extra time to visit the surrounding national parks. A most memorable visit, he said. He told me to tell you that Zion was the most beautiful place he’d ever been and when you graduate from your school, he’d like to go there with you.I’m fine. In good health, though I had a little rash on my neck. My colleagues teased me that it looked like a hickey. Imagine that.It’s a very busy time at work right now, lots of reports to write up, so you’ll forgive me if this letter is short. If I wrote everything in my heart, this might go on for days.So, suffice it to say, I miss you.Dad Swoon. I was dying to get the Sisters together, to tell them about everything that had happened, but there was just no way. Martha and I were forced to sit at opposite ends of the room in class, so no more note passing, and I couldn’t even get next to Bebe in group without Missy sneaking up or Hilary bounding between us.A few weeks after the breakout and still no contact with the Sisters. I was starting to go batty. In order to keep myself from falling off the cliff into true depression, I called up my night with Jed constantly, reliving every moment. It kept me sane. And then when I thought things couldn’t get any bleaker, Clayton pulled one of her infamous head games.
“I’m going to have some news about your mother,” she told me at the end of a session. “So prepare yourself.”
Aside from Clayton’s occasional attempts to get me to go deeper about Mom, we hadn’t talked much about her. In fact, it had been years since anyone had seriously discussed my mother with me. Dad hadn’t. Stepmonster certainly didn’t. Even Grandma had stopped bringing her up much. It was as though she had died, even though we knew she was out there. In the beginning, when she first went away, I’d jump every time the phone rang, but after a few months, I stopped hoping she’d call.