Girl in a Bad Place Page 2

  “I’m suddenly feeling a deep weakness in both my arms. I think I’ve lost the ability to fold.”

  She picks up a pair of jeans and drops them on my head. “No more excuses. You have a date tonight; do you really want to have to cancel on Gavin because your room isn’t clean yet?”

  “You wouldn’t.” I clutch at my chest in faux horror.

  “I would.” She drops another pair of jeans on my head. One of the legs drapes over my eyes.

  “Fine.” I pluck the jeans away from my face and give her my best glare. “But I am going to remember that you blackmailed me.”

  She grins and goes back to organizing my desk. “You say that every week.”

  Two days later, we are on our way to the commune. The Haven. As we predicted, our boyfriends wanted to come, too, and Gavin volunteered to drive us in his truck. Given the quality of the roads we have to take to get there, that’s both a great and a horrible thing. It’ll be harder for this truck to get stuck in a muddy rut, but it’s also been a bit of a rough ride. And part of me absolutely can’t believe we’re doing this.

  Cara called the Firehorse guy who runs this place. I listened on speakerphone while she talked to him. It was all a load of major hippie crap. Nothing against hippies at all, just there’s a level at which you take things too far, and Firehorse is way past that level. He actually said stuff like, “I would delight in welcoming you to our serene little corner of nature.” Let me tell you, serene is not how I feel when I’m in nature, but Cara was way into the whole thing, and it’s pretty much all she’s been excited about yet this summer, so here we are.

  And Firehorse wasn’t lying. We are thoroughly ensconced in nature. What started out as a paved road has turned into two rutted, barely visible tracks as we’ve gone deeper into the wild. The closer the tree branches get to the sides of Gavin’s truck, the more apprehensive I become. But I’m excited, too. I’ve never been to one of these off-the-grid places before, and I’ve always been curious. There’s something comforting about the whole concept. Constructing a civilization for yourself outside of society where you all harmoniously coexist and don’t have to worry about stressful stuff like money and college and careers.

  But if I become a famous actress, I won’t have to worry about those things, either, and I also won’t have to sleep where surprise contact with spiders is a real and ever-present danger.

  “Did you know this place was so far out here?” Jackson asks Cara. And he does not use a nice tone.

  “It’s not that far,” Cara replies. She’s pretending to inspect the ends of her honey-blonde hair, but she catches my gaze in the rearview mirror and in that fraction of a second, we have a transmission that doesn’t require words or even a change in expression. The message is: No, neither of us had any idea we were going this far into nowhere.

  “It’s been about an hour since we left Mailee’s house,” says Gavin. “I’m sure we’ll be there soon. The going’s just slow what with the road quality and all.”

  Jackson slumps down in his seat. It’s a little dramatic in my opinion, and if anyone knows dramatic, it’s me. He looks ridiculous back there anyway; Gavin’s truck doesn’t have a full-sized cab. The seats in the back face each other, folding out from the sides below the back windows. Jackson’s too big, really, to fit back there, but I’m the girlfriend so I get the front. Once Jackson slumps, Cara is completely squished into her corner.

  The ruts in the path grow even deeper and muckier, and the grass in the middle even taller. Pine needles brush the top of the windshield and it’s making me claustrophobic. I hope Cara and I haven’t gotten ourselves into a situation where some human-monster hybrid has placed rusted barbed wire across the road and we’re going to get a flat tire and then be eaten alive in the woods. Brunettes tend to fare better than blondes in horror movies, so maybe I’d survive. Though my sense of direction is less than zero, so I probably shouldn’t bank on my hair color to save me.

  I glance down at my clothes and realize that if we do get stuck, even for non-horror-movie reasons, I am so not equipped to walk too far. The underbrush surrounding the road is thick and brambly. The road itself such a mess. And I’m wearing flip-flops, a pair of tight jeans, and a white tank top. What was I thinking? Well, I know exactly what I was thinking. It’s the same thing I was thinking when I spent a half hour this morning straightening my hair even though it’s already pretty straight on its own. And when I painted on my makeup with extra care, lined my gray eyes until they brightened. And when I stared at myself in the mirror trying to decide if these pants make me look like I actually have a butt or if there’s no getting away from the fact that I’m a “stick,” as I’ve been called many times.

  It’s because Gavin is here, and I would rather look as pretty as possible when he’s nearby, even if it’s impractical.

  The trees edge even closer together, and the road—if I can call it that—is getting boggy. When I glance at Gavin, the muscles in his chiseled jaw are working. Gavin is a saint. If he agrees to go along with something, even if he warned me beforehand that he thinks it’s a bad idea, he never rubs it in my face when he’s proven right. But I can tell, right now, he’s wishing he hadn’t agreed to this. His clenched jaw says, I told you so I told you so why don’t you ever listen to me Mailee while his mouth stays silent. A degree of self-control I will never obtain even if I live to be one thousand years old.

  “Maybe we should try to back up,” I say tentatively as branches grope at the truck from all angles and the tires whine, fighting for grip in the mud. “Maybe I got it wrong when I mapped this out.”

  “We’d have to back up the whole way out,” Gavin says. “There’s nowhere to turn around. So let’s call that a last resort. You know we’re going the right way. There’s no other way we could have gone. It’s probably just that people don’t drive out here that often. I’m sure we’re almost—”

  He stops because we’ve emerged into a big clearing. There are a couple cars parked at the far side of the clearing, and beyond them are some metal shacks. The glistening surface of a lake is visible in the background. If they replaced the metal shacks with log cabins, this is the sort of picture they’d put in a Montana brochure to convince people to move here. It’s gorgeous.

  “I knew we’d find it!” Cara claps her hands together in glee.

  “Where should I park?” Gavin asks. “Over by those other cars?”

  “Wherever,” I say, “so long as I don’t have to walk through too much tall grass.”

  Tall grass in the summer houses ticks, and ticks are even worse than spiders. Spiders are creepy, but at least they serve a purpose. Ticks serve no purpose other than being disgusting and spreading diseases. They should have been thrown off the ark. After being set on fire to make sure they were really dead.

  “I’ll carry you,” Gavin says, and he winks at me.

  I feel myself blush. It’s always noticeable when I blush because I’m so pale, and it’s embarrassing, but Gavin seems to find it cute. Cara says we’re in the “infatuation phase” and that eventually we’ll stop finding everything about each other so adorable, but I don’t know. It’s been two months and I still melt into a puddle every time he touches me. Looks at me. Exists in my general vicinity.

  Gavin drives slowly across the rock-strewn field, parking near the other cars. Gavin’s truck isn’t anything fancy; his parents bought it for him when he turned sixteen, and it’s close to a decade old with well over a hundred thousand miles on it. But these other vehicles make it look high-end. Rust corrodes holes like the spots of a Holstein cow, and both are blanketed in dried-up layers of old pine needles.

  There’s another vehicle, though, parked next to one of the shacks, that’s a whole lot nicer. A big, sleek SUV. The rusty cars make more sense. Who needs them, right, after you move to a self-sufficient commune? Though, I guess, Alexa had to get into town somehow.

  A man emerges from the shack beside the SUV as Gavin shuts off his truck. I know immediately, wi
thout doubt, that this person is Firehorse. He has that look. I mean, to take on a name like that, you’d have to be pretty serious about yourself. He swaggers closer to us with a glowing smile. He’s got bright blue eyes and shoulder-length gray-peppered brown hair.

  He wears a flannel shirt partway open, exposing more chest hair than I want to see, a dreamcatcher necklace, and sun-leathered skin. And he tucks the flannel shirt into Wrangler jeans, completing the look with a pair of cowboy boots. The boots are pretty fancy, not the sort of thing you’d picture someone wearing to be comfortable in nature. They don’t have any scuffs, and look like they’re made of real leather. Like what kids at my school wear when they want to look all rugged but never actually leave our suburbs. I picture the boots lined up in Gavin’s mudroom, the ones reserved for work on his family’s ranch, and these are basically the exact opposite.

  I tear my gaze from the boots, back up to Firehorse’s face. Alexa said he was forty-one. If that’s true, then he’s a cautionary tale about spending too much time outdoors without sunscreen. He’s kind of good-looking, though, I realize with an embarrassed sensation in my gut. For someone who’s barely younger than my parents, anyway.

  “Um, I guess we should get out?” Cara says. She doesn’t sound as nervous as I suddenly feel. “And if that’s Firehorse, you owe me, Mailee.”

  Crap. No red beard. “I didn’t forget.”

  I exchange a glance with Gavin and I can tell he is Not Having This. But we’re here, so we might as well see what the commune is about, right? So, with confidence, I open my door and step out. The others follow my example.

  “Welcome!” Firehorse says. His voice is gravelly and pleasant, the kind you could listen to for hours. He reaches out and grasps my hand with both of his. His palms are surprisingly smooth for someone who lives in the woods. “You must be the Cara I spoke with over the phone?”

  “No,” I say quickly. Beside me, Cara frowns. “I’m Mailee.”

  “My mistake!” He chuckles embarrassedly. “You just have the face of a Cara, I guess.”

  The face of a Cara. What is that, even?

  He gives my hand a final pat and moves on to the actual Cara. I want to ask what name she has the face of, but I don’t have the guts.

  Firehorse gives Cara the same two-handed grasp greeting as he gave me, and adds a shoulder squeeze. For Gavin, he downgrades to a regular old handshake. Maybe he can tell from the look on Gavin’s face that the complete hand envelopment might be a little too much.

  “I wasn’t expecting four of you,” Firehorse says, just as he’s letting go of Gavin’s hand. His smile falters for the briefest moment. “Alexa had only mentioned two.”

  “I’m sorry,” Cara says quickly. “I should have asked on the phone. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”

  “No, no. The more, the better,” says Firehorse, turning to Jackson. Only I don’t think he really feels like more is better. I think he’s secretly annoyed.

  Jackson gets the coolest reception by far. A curt nod and a thin-lipped smile. To Firehorse’s credit, Jackson’s scowl is so sharp it could cut glass. But I’m still surprised. I assumed Firehorse was so fake, he’d be nice to anyone, no matter what attitude they radiate. Maybe he’s realer than I thought.

  “So tell me,” says Firehorse, shepherding us toward what appears to be the main part of the camp. “What brings the four of you here? And I don’t mean literally. I know you came because you met Alexa and Avalon, and I know that you were transported here in a truck. But what was it, in your spirits, that moved you to come?”

  I get that feeling like when you’re in English class and you haven’t done the reading and the teacher starts asking questions. When you’re just hoping they can’t sense your fear and won’t call on you. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t think that he’ll appreciate communes are kinda weird and I wanted to see one as my answer. Luckily, Cara rescues me.

  “Alexa and Avalon made it all sound so nice,” she says. “Everyone has a purpose here. You know what you’re going to do each day, and you just do it. And you’re part of something. You’re a community.”

  It’s such a perfectly Cara answer, I can’t help but smile. Of course she would love the organization and planning and everything having a place. I’ve been her biggest organizational project for years, but maybe she’s thinking of expanding her efforts. Then again, I am basically the Everest of organizational projects. It’s going to be a while before she conquers me.

  “And you?” Firehorse turns his electric-blue eyes toward me. Uh-oh. I’ve been called on.

  “Um. I guess I came because I trust Cara’s judgment and if she wants to do something or go somewhere, it always turns out great.”

  “And I think I can speak for Gavin and myself both,” Jackson says, “that we came because our girlfriends wanted us to.”

  Firehorse chuckles. “That is as good a reason as any. We, as men, need to make sure that women feel their opinions are just as valued.”

  I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt on that and assume he phrased badly. Otherwise, it’s pretty insulting.

  “Can I ask a question?” Cara says timidly.

  “Of course.” Firehorse beams at her.

  “Well … where is everyone? There are others who live here besides Avalon and Alexa, right?”

  “Oh yes, of course there are others! There are about two dozen of us. We have a small logging camp nearby, up in the trees. That’s where the rest of the group is right now, harvesting some trees for firewood. I stayed behind because I knew you were coming; the others will be back in a bit. It’s nice to have visitors, but our schedule’s important, too, I hope you understand.”

  It’s a little awkward, to be honest. A lot more pressure to make a good impression when there’s a single person than when you’re mixed nicely into a crowd. And there’s something about Firehorse that makes me want to be impressive.

  “You’re all in high school?” Firehorse asks. He leans forward while he speaks, like he’s actually interested, not just asking to be polite.

  “We’re all going to be seniors this fall,” I say proudly. I’m never going to get tired of telling people I’m a senior. It’s felt like it would never come. But here I am, finally, standing in the doorway of my final year of high school.

  Cara’s expression sours. I’m starting to think she isn’t excited about our senior year. Her attitude stomps on the embers of my excitement. Firehorse’s gaze rests on her frown. He doesn’t know us at all, but he senses it, too.

  “Senior year is a very exciting time,” he says with a smile. “And a stressful time. Lots of change.”

  I shrug. The real time of change isn’t till the end of next summer, when we all go off to college. I’m not thinking about that yet. About how Cara and I might end up in different places, how Gavin plans to go to college locally and take over his dad’s ranch. That’s the stuff that makes my stomach hurt. Senior year itself is joy. It’s having a chance at the lead role in school plays. It’s college applications. It’s knowing I’m on the brink of adulthood, finally.

  “Yeah,” Cara says the word as a sigh. “Lots of change, for sure.”

  I don’t want to argue here in front of Firehorse, so I say nothing and gaze around at the scenery instead.

  The terrain around the Haven is rocky and uneven. It’s nestled in a valley; when I mapped out how to get here, the path-like road we just drove along looked like God took a finger and dragged a line between two steep mountains and then made a thumbprint at the end. We’re standing in the thumbprint. And for a place that’s self-sustaining, it’s not the best-looking farmland. There’s no livestock or crops, that I can see. Where we stand now, the ground has been mostly cleared of rocks. It’s smooth and well-worn with footpaths. A giant fire pit sits at the center of everything, and about fifteen metal shacks and something that looks suspiciously like an outhouse. Now, when I say these shacks are made of metal, I mean entirely metal. Roof, sides, everything. They’re no
t particularly big, either, but they look livable, I guess. At least from the outside.

  There’s a half-enclosed food preparation area and a big garden off to the side of everything. The lake shimmers peacefully in the background, with several kayaks tied to a rickety wooden dock.

  None of this is my thing. I am an indoors girl. I like plumbing and hot water and places where insects and wildlife are unlikely to accost me. I like trying new things with makeup and practicing facial expressions in the mirror and dreaming about the day when I move to California and land my first movie role. But something about it is very cozy and homelike. Maybe I’m crazy. I’m definitely crazy. I would never in a million years live here. But I don’t feel sad for the people who do, I guess is what I’m saying.

  Gavin definitely does not feel the same way. His facial expression gives an illusion of pleasantness, but knowing him as well as I do, I can tell that he wants nothing more than to get the hell out of here. Jackson doesn’t look like he’s loving the place, but he’s definitely more interested than Gavin.

  “So can you tell us how it works?” he asks Firehorse. “Living here?”

  “Certainly!” Firehorse shepherds us toward benches made out of halved trees that surround the fire pit. “It’s simple, really. Everyone at the Haven understands that our world is corrupt and ready to implode, and that the best thing we can do for ourselves is to make our own community, to reject the society we don’t want to emulate. We need to be cleansed from the oppressions of society. Need to let our bodies and minds recover from the toxins. Our ancestors lived off the land, and we can do it, too.”

  “What about these buildings?” Gavin gestures to one of the metal shacks. “Making something out of metal isn’t exactly ‘living off the land.’ ”

  Firehorse’s beaming smile doesn’t even falter. He’s definitely in his element, explaining all this to us. “No, these are not from the land. They had been discarded in our wilderness, and we repurposed them. Isn’t that better than leaving them where they were, to pollute the environment?” He pauses for a small chuckle. “But I know some of these issues are hard to grasp, when schools are only teaching you the government’s agenda these days.”