“Daniel won’t snitch,” she says. “Even if he’s the one that got caught.”
“On you or the compound?” I’m so mad I don’t wait for her to answer. “We have no idea what they found or what disciplinary action they’ll take. We have to wait and assess the situation. Stand up and take your vests off, both of you. I’m gonna put my EDC, and Blue’s, inside a gym locker so we can get out of here without drawing attention to ourselves. We can come get them in the morning.”
Birdie stands without question, conceding to me for once.
“Why can’t I put mine in my own locker?” Blue asks.
“Because I want them both in one place for now. I’m not putting them in my gym locker. I’m putting them in a gym locker. My whole class saw me crawl into an air shaft, so I’m gonna be on everyone’s radar no matter what. If they have Birdie’s EDC, and put two and two together, they’re bound to come up with three as their answer.” I point to each of us. “One, two, three.”
What I don’t say is if the school or cops decide to do a locker search and they end up with all three of our bags, you can imagine what they’ll think. The notebooks, pens, and pencils in there won’t be enough of what’s considered normal school supplies to shake them off the scent.
I pull a combination lock out of my EDC and pick an empty locker. Blue takes off her vest and hands everything over. Birdie does the same, only she doesn’t let go when she hands me her vest, to make sure I’ll look at her.
“I honestly don’t remember everything that happened.”
She’s chewing her middle fingernail so hard her nose is being pushed up by her other knuckles. If she keeps that up she’ll have nothing but bloody nubs by the time we get home. My own gnawing comes from deep inside my stomach. I want to believe her. This is the first time I’ve had to question why my sister would lie to me, us.
I don’t know how to respond, so I turn on one of the sink taps and splash cold water on my face, rinsing away the dust and dirt from the air shaft.
Gone is the good mirror day. Replaced by shadowy worry, seeping into my eyes from the walls of the dim locker room and Birdie’s all-consuming, gray uncertainty. Blue hands me a stretch of scratchy, unbleached paper towels to dry my hands like a surgeon before lobbing them into the trash can.
“Let’s go find out what’s happening,” I tell them. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and Daniel will be outside with everyone else.”
“He’s not,” Blue says. And her tone is so conclusive neither of us argues.
CYA
COVER YOUR ASSETS
MY SISTERS AND I slip outside and around the building to the front silently and without incident. I size up the situation. There’s a news truck across the street, four police cruisers parked at the curb in front, plus a dark sedan with tinted windows that has all the makings of an unmarked vehicle. The news truck troubles me the most. Avoid unnecessary speculation is another rule of our coalition.
We do our best to merge into the background. Hanging close together in a tight triangle while shifting our eyes and ears to the chatter of students milling around, still abuzz with speculation. I pick out relevant pieces of their conversations: the lockdown was lifted but they called parents, the school day is over, everyone can go home. But a lot of people are still milling around, talking, acting like lookie-loos, trying to get the scoop, including us. The more we know, the easier it will be to tell Mother and Dieter what happened.
After a few minutes, our natural defensive vibe relaxes and our shoulders unhunch. If it weren’t for the anxious flit of Birdie’s eyes I’d almost believe the situation isn’t as bad as we thought. But then the all-day drizzle turns to rain, and as the drops prick my cheeks like liquified pine needles, I remember we have to go back home. The rain will add insult to injury with Mother if we’re late and she can’t reach us.
Blue crosses her arms. “I wish I had the rain poncho in my EDC.”
“Me, too. Do you see anyone from The Nest or The Burrow? Ansel, Annalise?” I whisper. “I’d love to talk to one of them before we leave.”
Blue is the only one facing the other students. She’s also the shortest. I realize I’m blocking her sight line and take a small step to the side.
“No one,” she says. “Maybe they all left.”
That is the second part of our protocol. Return to The Nest.
“Wait. There is someone,” Blue says, “standing at two o’clock from my perspective, taking pictures. Of us, I think.”
“A reporter?”
“No. A student.”
I whip around, and sure enough, Rémy Lamar has his camera pointed right at me. He’s using a telephoto zoom lens to capture me, us, up close. What is his fascination with trying to get pictures of me?
“I’ve had enough,” I tell my sisters. “I’ll be right back.”
They have no idea what that means, but it doesn’t matter. I told him to stop once today, and I’m going to tell him again. Only this time, I won’t bother explaining why.
Engage with target.
“Birdie Juniper!” Ms. Pennick’s unmistakable shrill tone stops me from taking another step toward Rémy. But when our eyes meet, and he sees the fury in mine, he lowers his camera.
I turn and see Birdie’s PE teacher headed straight for her, clipboard firmly grasped in her hand, arms pumping so fast breaking into a run would make her gait seem less precarious. The stopwatch she always wears around her neck on a black lanyard is swinging, bouncing off her ribs in a way that looks downright painful.
THREAT ASSESSMENT:
PAULA PENNICK|5’8” AVERAGE TO OVERWEIGHT BUILD|CLOSED SOCIAL GROUP|TRUSTING
MOST LIKELY TO: throw darts at pictures of people she dislikes in the privacy of her own home.
LEAST LIKELY TO: be nominated for teacher of the year.
7/10 WOULD IMPEDE GROUP SURVIVAL IN AN EMERGENCY SITUATION.
CASUALTY POTENTIAL: high
Birdie turns her head and gapes at me wide-eyed. It only lasts a heartbeat before she closes them, pulls herself together, and swivels to respond to Pen-cap with a sheepish grin.
“Hi, Ms. Pennick. Were you looking for me?”
I’m always amazed by Birdie’s ability to play it cool when the situation is hot, but I’m extra impressed now, given the unnerved state she was in when we found her in the locker room.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” Ms. Pennick says. “I’m finding it oddly curious you requested a bathroom pass minutes before Daniel Dobbs was caught pulling his little prank. You hang around with him, don’t you?”
My pulse starts ticking like a time bomb when she confirms our fear. I trust for the most part that every Nester and Burrower will follow the same close-lipped protocol, but I can’t account for how anyone might react under individualized pressure. Especially Daniel. His parents died during one of Dieter’s missions, a year or more before we got here. I don’t know what he was like before, but the Daniel we know vacillates between gung-ho, I’ll-do-whatever-Dieter-Ackerman-says, and swoony, let’s-hang-out-in-the-barn-until-sunrise with my sister. That’s too unpredictable to bet on at a time like this.