Crazy House Read online

  In the broad daylight three motorcycles drew attention, especially as we roared up to the hospital. But we made it there without being stopped or accosted. Once we’d parked it took all of us to drag Nate off of Tara’s motorcycle.

  “Thanks so much,” I said to Jefferson and the others. They didn’t smile, but nodded as they revved their engines.

  “See you soon,” Cecily said, and they tore off down Main Street, drawing surprised stares from passersby.

  Becca took one of Nate’s arms and I took the other. Together we supported him as he limped into the Healthcare United emergency room, dragging his battered, casted leg behind him. The triage nurse did a double take when she saw the two of us with the Provost’s son—especially since we all looked like we’d been shot through a blender of dirt and blood.

  “I got it from here,” Nate told us tightly, his face white with exhaustion and pain.

  “Are you sure?” I asked. I was dying to go see Pa, but everything in me told me to stay with Nate.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Pretty sure my dad will be here soon.” He grimaced, but I didn’t know if it was from that thought or because of pain. A nurse tried to get him to lie down on a gurney, but he became even paler, if possible, and shook his head. Becca and I couldn’t look at the gurney, either. I don’t think we ever would be able to again.

  I held his hand tightly as he sank awkwardly into a hard chair. He had come to prison looking for me—like I’d gone looking for Becca. He’d risked his life for me, and had just gone through a nightmare of danger and pain in order to stay with me as we escaped. How could I leave him?

  “Go see your Pa,” he said wearily. “I’ll talk to you later.” He gave me a meaningful glance—I still owed him some serious making out. I think he also meant: Watch your back. It was dangerous for us to be here again. At last I reluctantly let go of his hand as another nurse came over, talking to Nate about getting X-rays. I looked back at him as long as I could, feeling like I was leaving something important behind.

  96

  OUT IN THE HALLWAY BECCA and I immediately turned left and headed up the stairs to the second floor. Pa was in his same room—he hadn’t died while we were gone, and I was so thankful. I dropped into the chair by his bedside and took one of his pale, frail hands in my bloody, dirt-encrusted ones.

  “Pa,” I whispered. I was so happy to see him, had kept living just to see him again. But of course no miracle had happened while we were gone. He was still dying, would still never be the Pa I’d grown up with.

  Becca pulled the other chair over. In the bright light of day, she looked like shit on a stick. I assumed that, as usual, I looked identical. She took Pa’s other hand, and I saw her lip tremble. She didn’t have to say anything. I knew what she was feeling.

  I was bent wearily over Pa’s hand, trying to summon the strength to get up and walk home, when suddenly his fingers twitched in mine. That had happened a lot in the early days, but not at all lately. My eyes flew open and I almost jumped to see his calm blue eyes, looking at me.

  “Pa?”

  Becca sat up and looked at him, too. We hadn’t seen his eyes in months.

  “My… girls.” It was a withered, dry rasp of a voice.

  “Yes, Pa!” Becca said. “We’re here!”

  His eyes drifted closed again as Becca and I stared at each other. Could he be getting better? I glanced at the machine, and my hopes fell. His numbers were lower than ever, his breaths fewer, his heartbeat more erratic. His blood oxygen level had never been lower; his lungs were almost nonfunctional.

  “A boy… came here.” His wasted chest wheezed with the effort of speaking.

  Becca and I frowned at each other. A boy? Maybe it was a new male nurse, or lab tech?

  “Okay,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Provost’s… son.”

  I sat back and exchanged another puzzled glance with my sister. Nate had been here? When? Pa would recognize him—I’d gone to school with Nate for twelve years. But I knew he hadn’t seen Nate this morning—we’d just dropped him off.

  “Said… you were okay.” Pa’s words were barely audible, but his pale lips turned up just a tiny bit, at the corners. His eyes stayed shut, but his fingers moved in my hand again. “My girls… are okay.”

  “Yes, Pa, we’re fine,” I assured him. “And you are, too. They say you’re getting better every day.”

  “Yeah,” Becca agreed, looking deflated. “Listen, Pa—I’ve got a history test. I need to go home and learn everything there is to know about the cotton gin. But I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  Pa didn’t say anything or react. It was like he’d had a burst of energy and then slipped back into his comalike state. It was so disappointing.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pa,” I said, standing up. I leaned down to kiss his cheek and whispered, “You get better immediately, if not sooner, you hear me?”

  97

  BECCA

  “I JUST DON’T KNOW WHAT we’re doing here.” Cassie had waited till we were on the road going home before she shoved more reality at me.

  “We saw Pa. We’re going home,” I said shortly. “Tomorrow’s another day.”

  “No—I mean, we’ve seen a whole other existence!” she said, waving her arms. “There are other cells. There are other people. Other vocations. We now know all that. And we know that we left a bunch of innocent kids behind to get tortured and killed.”

  I looked at her. “We couldn’t take everyone with us. It was risky enough.”

  “I know. But can we leave them there?” Her voice was exhausted, anguished.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “We left them. They’re there.”

  “Becca.” Cassie turned and faced me. “There’s nothing for us here, except Pa, and his sun is setting. And we left all those kids there. Don’t you think we need to go back and get them?”

  My mouth dropped open. “Get them? How? We don’t even have a vehicle! Not to mention all the guards, guns, Tasers, billy clubs, handcuffs, and Strepp!”

  She frowned at me. “What if we had a whole army?” she asked.

  I didn’t even turn around. “A whole army of what? Corncobs? Where are you going to get your army?”

  “School?”

  Now I did stop to look at her. I leaned over and put my hand on her forehead, feeling its dirt and blood. “You are raving with fever,” I told her, and strode ahead.

  “We could talk to our friends!” she cried behind me.

  I whirled. “Yeah? Like all the friends who couldn’t even help you find me?” Her face fell, and I felt a little bad. But just a little. “You’re going to get a bunch of sheep to go against the Provost? Against the whole United? Really?” Again I turned and hurried on, this time so I wouldn’t see her start to cry.

  98

  I SAW THE SIGN FIRST. Cassie was still dragging her feet behind me, looking dejected. But when we got to our gate she saw it. We looked at each other, confused.

  FOR SALE.

  Our house had a FOR SALE sign on it. It said, CONTACT THE PROPERTY OFFICE AT THE MANAGEMENT BUILDING.

  Pa wasn’t in any shape to put our house up for sale.

  “Oh, my God,” Cassie said, opening our gate.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. There was another sign on our front door: PUBLIC AUCTION. It gave the date and a list: house, land, tractor, tiller, irrigation pump (wind-powered), household items, clothes. “What the hell?”

  Cassie tried the front door. It was locked. I fetched the spare key hidden inside a drainpipe on the side of the house, and we let ourselves in.

  Inside, our house had been searched. Not like torn apart or destroyed, just messed with. Furniture had been moved, some pictures taken off the walls, kitchen cupboards opened. All our dishes were stacked on the kitchen table, like someone had been counting them.

  “What the hell is going on?” I said, feeling anger ignite. “Who did this?”

  “Oh, Becca,” Cassie said, looking around
. “Oh, my God. They didn’t think we were coming back.”

  “What?”

  “Ma’s gone. Pa’s not going to last much longer. We were the only two kids, and we disappeared. So there was no one left to take over the farm. So they’re selling it. And everything in it.”

  “No freaking way!” I said, my hands clenching. “Those signs are coming down now! This place is ours!” I headed back to the living room, but Cassie grabbed my arm.

  “You’re not getting it,” she said. “Beck, they didn’t think we were coming back. Other kids have disappeared. None of them have ever come back.”

  I stopped and looked at her, thinking about the other kids we knew who were missing. It was true. Those kids were gone—the few we’d seen at the prison had been left there.

  “But they know we’re back now,” I said. “The folks at the hospital saw us. Nate will tell his dad we helped him. Right?”

  “Yeah,” Cassie said, her voice trailing off as she thought. “They must know by now. So… what are they going to think about us? What are they going to do with us?”

  I grimaced. “Maybe arrest us, for daring to leave?”

  “Do they know we left on purpose?” Cassie asked. “There’s no one watching the gates, right? Not all the time, anyway.”

  “Probably because no one ever leaves,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Cassie agreed. “So it’s like the cell doesn’t actually know how or why kids are disappearing—the Provost acts mad, like people are sneaking out for the fun of it. Does he really not know what’s going on?”

  “If he did,” I said, “then he wouldn’t call them traitors. He might just be quiet about it, since he couldn’t fix it.”

  “So, think,” Cassie said. “Kids disappear, no one knows why, they never come back, it’s a big mystery. Then… three come back. What’s the Provost gonna do?”

  “He’s going to come get us, maybe question us?” I said.

  Cassie nodded. “Maybe. On the other hand, we saved his son. We brought Nate back. Maybe he should be thanking us.”

  “You’re crazy,” I said, grinning. “I like it.”

  “I bet you anything that they’re gonna be knocking at our door soon,” Cassie predicted. “And I, for one, will have showered.” She leaped toward the stairs, pounding up the steps, beating me to the bathroom, slamming the door in my face.

  I heard the water gush out of the pipe, imagined how hot and clean it would be, and sank down to the floor. Overcome with exhaustion I slid sideways, luxuriating in how delightfully dry and comfortable this wooden floor was. The last thought I had was of Tim’s face, bruised and handsome. I wanted to see him again.

  99

  CASSIE WOKE ME UP, PRACTICALLY hauling me off the floor and into the bathtub. After the cold, crowded, soapless showers at the prison, this was complete bliss. Then I got to put on clean clothes—no yellow jumpsuit in sight.

  Downstairs, Cassie had opened a couple of cans of non-prison food.

  “No one’s showed up yet?” I asked, and she shook her head. I grabbed a bowl and a spoon and ate ravenously, not caring what it was. It was hot and resembled food and had actual flavor. Neither of us could eat much—we were used to starvation rations.

  Afterward we went outside to take the signs down.

  Our house looked about nine times more decrepit than I remembered it. It used to make me so mad, how run-down the place was, how Cassie hopelessly tried to keep it clean. I didn’t understand why she wasted her time and energy on sweeping dust off a porch that had three boards missing, or wiping down a kitchen counter so worn that you couldn’t see the pattern on the formica anymore.

  It had been different when we were little, of course. When Ma was here, the house was painted, screens fixed, everything clean and tidy—just how the United likes it. After Ma was taken away for her mood-adjust, things were different. Pa couldn’t make the effort, I wouldn’t make the effort, so it was up to Cassie.

  Now, as my sister and I tore down the FOR SALE sign and the auction sign, I was filled with anger and guilt all over again. All I’d ever wanted to do was get out of this stupid cell, this broken home.

  It was only now that I understood it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. Only now that I realized, in the time I was gone, I’d somehow lost any chance of being happy in it ever again. Cassie was right. There was nothing for us here. This was the house we’d grown up in, but it would never be home again.

  100

  CASSIE

  BECCA AND I SAT UP and waited till after curfew, waited for the Provost or the cops or whoever to come get us.

  No one came. Maybe they were planning to grab us in the middle of the night. We decided to get some sleep, and for the first time since we were five years old, we slept in the same room. We both slept in Ma and Pa’s double bed, and talked the way we used to.

  “We might not be able to get the kids from school behind us,” I admitted. “But what about the Outsiders?”

  Becca nodded in the darkness. “Tomorrow we can bike over to the hideout. But Nate was the leader, and he’s out of commission. His leg was a mess.”

  “Okay, we’ll go to the hideout tomorrow,” I said. “Then what?”

  “Then I’m going to go to Mrs. Kelly’s Kitchen and eat myself sick,” Becca said.

  I wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. Probably she was.

  “I can’t believe we’re home,” I said, watching the ceiling fan turn slowly overhead. “I thought we were going to die there.”

  “I was sure of it,” Becca said. “Being here, home, with warm, dry clothes, in a warm, comfy bed… it’s like a dream. I hope I never wake up.”

  “Yeah,” I said. But inside I was thinking about all the kids we’d left behind. They weren’t in a dream. They were still in a nightmare.

  “Hey, Beck?” I said, softly, but her even breathing told me she was asleep. I’d said I wanted to go back and free all the other kids, but in truth I had no idea how to do it. Those people were armed. The kids were scared and cowed by the fights and executions. We would need the Provost to go with us, or the police force.

  How was I going to pull that off? And with that thought I, too, fell asleep, next to my sister in our parents’ bed.

  101

  THERE WAS NO ONE AT the Outsider hideout, which meant we had biked for half an hour for nothing. Becca scratched a coded message next to a hay bale on the floor, basically saying Call me. Everyone might have decided to wait for Nate to get better, or they might be off doing other things, or they didn’t want anything to do with me and Becca.

  Nate. I hoped he was doing okay. I didn’t dare call him. Later today, when I went to the hospital to see Pa, I would find him and say hi.

  We biked home. I thought it was so weird that we had disappeared and come back, and no one was taking any notice. It left me with the uncomfortable feeling that they were just biding their time, coming up with a plan to really get us.

  I gritted my teeth and pedaled harder. I was different than I had been before prison. They would be dealing with a different Cassie now.

  When we rounded the Henrys’ field, we saw the SAS van parked in front of our door.

  “So they do know we’re home,” Becca said drily.

  “Let’s get this over with,” I said.

  We dropped our bikes in the yard and Becca strode up to the front porch, where the SAS agent was waiting.

  “What do you want?” Becca snarled, stomping to the front door and yanking it open.

  The agent looked calm and capable, like they always do. Confidence-inspiring.

  “Girls,” she said. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. Your father passed away this morning.”

  Whatever we’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. I actually staggered backward and fell against a porch post. Becca clung to the door as if it was propping her up.

  “What?” Becca said.

  “Your father was called home to greener pastures this morning,” the woman said.
“May I come in?” She deftly eased past Becca and sat down on the settee Ma had refinished years ago. I followed them in, my mind spinning.

  “How?” I managed to get out.

  The woman looked at me with sympathy and smoothed her navy-blue uniform over her knees. “It’s been a long, slow process, as you know,” she said. “Anyway, this morning it became critical. The hospital informed me that they tried to call you.”

  I looked at the black phone sitting on the small table, as if it would still be able to tell me something. “We weren’t here this morning,” I said. We’d been at the Outsiders’ hangout, which had done us no good at all. Pa had died. He’d died without us there.

  “I’m so sorry, dear,” the woman said. “I know it’s always hard to lose a parent, even when it’s a blessing.”

  Becca looked at her sharply. “Excuse me?”

  “A blessing,” the woman said, lowering her voice. “Of course you loved your father, but the way it all happened…” She let her voice trail off, as if we would acknowledge the shame of my father trying to commit suicide by himself.

  “Why are you here?” I asked, my voice as cold as a winter storm. My heart felt like ice. While we’d been bicycling halfway across the cell, Pa had drawn his last breath. A deep pain grew in my chest until I thought I was going to be sick.

  The SAS officer gave a delicate sigh and shook her head. “The nurse at Healthcare United asked me to tell you about your father, since I was coming here anyway.”

  “Coming here anyway?” I asked. “Why?”

  “My dears, I’ve come to offer you the benefit of our complimentary service,” she said, as if surprised it needed explaining. “You can’t keep this farm up by yourself. Your parents are now both gone. Without schooling or a vocation—”

  She was saying the same things I’d been thinking myself, but hearing them from her enraged me.

  “Get out,” Becca said. Her nose was pink and her jaw was quivering.

  “What?” the SAS officer asked.