Fall arrived. The temperature dipped. I pushed my shorts to the back of my closet. I drained the pool and stored the outdoor furniture in the shed, breathing cold air deep into my lungs. My meals with April and Georgina whittled from five days a week to three to one. I’d forgiven them for gossiping about me to Rebecca—though I still didn’t know which of them had—but couldn’t ignore how often their conversations turned to life beyond the island. They wondered what political news they were missing, debated which app they’d use first when they got their phones back, described the family member they were most excited to hug. They didn’t want to talk about Wisewood, at least not all the time.
Instead I began eating with Jeremiah, who always had a pencil behind his ear and that book of crosswords in his back pocket. In between asking me for the answer to five down and whistling Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face,” he opened up about his divorce, his strained relationship with his deceased father, the weight he’d been struggling to lose since college. As I became closer with him, I got to know the rest of the staff too, members who had been here for years, for whom there was no such thing as life post-Wisewood. While tackling lawn care with me, Raeanne told me the horrors she’d experienced as a child and later as a long-haul trucker, and I began to understand her steely exterior. I watched Ruth fuss over Sanderson, saw how tightly she held him when she thought no one was paying attention, the way his shoulders relaxed into her embrace. As a group we scanned the list of advanced courses, considering what we should take next. I realized with a start that Nat wasn’t chiming in. I hadn’t heard her voice in some time. Mom’s either. It was only me in my head.
Here I woke to the chirps of sparrows instead of sirens. No guns, no viruses, no planes falling from the sky. There was no longer a need for pepper spray or a key between my fingers. I was safe.
My hands were always busy now but my mind was newly quiet. The urge to pull my hair weakened. I tossed my rubber band in the trash. At first my wrist felt off-balance, too free. After a week I stopped noticing its bareness. I remembered Rebecca’s promise during our second session—that soon I wouldn’t need the rubber band anymore. She had been right. The pink scars healed; the skin blended. My hair grew back.
Three months in, she offered to let me use her computer. I could check my e-mail, the news, social media, whatever I wanted. The laptop sat at her desk, beckoning, but I had no urge to answer. What was waiting on the other side? Lapsed insurance notifications, wedding announcements, sleek travel photos posted by strangers I used to admire. You couldn’t swipe left or right on me anymore. What difference did it make that Congress was still gridlocked and Rachel was pregnant with her second? The machinery of the world had kept churning without me, I without it. I told her thanks but no, thanks. Her eyes shone. She pulled a cell phone from a desk drawer, dangled it in front of me, and asked if I’d like to call anyone. A former coworker, perhaps? A neighbor? Natalie?
For the first time in my life, I was content. I had finally stopped reaching for my phone. What could I hope to gain from one call anyway? I had Jeremiah and Raeanne and Ruth and my students, I told her.
I have you, Teacher.
24
Kit
OCTOBER 2019
I STRODE INTO Teacher’s office, a clipboard tucked under my arm, at four o’clock sharp.
“The gutter on the west side of the house has been repaired.” I checked my notes. “Same with dryer number four. Sanderson left to make the grocery run. I reminded him to double up on nonperishables in case the storm is worse than we expect.”
Teacher peered up from the legal pad on her desk. “What would I do without you?”
I warmed at her praise like a lizard on a desert rock.
“As for my students, I think nine of them are ready to move on to intermediate courses.” I turned the page on my clipboard. “Jocelyn is doing particularly well. Yesterday she set a new guest record in the pool—sixty-five laps without stopping.”
“You hypnotize me, you know that?”
After three months here, I had gotten used to the intensity of Teacher’s attention, though it still made my stomach flip.
“What about the tenth student?”
I frowned. “Should we re-enroll him in the beginners’ course with a different instructor? He’s still showing up late to class, not making much of an effort.” I tugged Mom’s scarf tighter. “Jeremiah searched the student’s room like you said. He found a cell phone in the desk drawer.”
“Send him home.”
My eyes widened. “But—”
She slapped her own face, hard. I gawked. “That’s what sneaking a phone here feels like to me. The program has to come first. We don’t do three strikes.” She calmed. “You know that, Kitten.”
I swooned. She had never used a nickname for me before. She rose from her desk chair and gestured for me to join her on the velvet couch. We sat close together. The right side of her face had a red handprint where she’d struck herself. She rested her hand on my knee, danced a finger in little circles around the bone. My spine tingled.
“I have to be able to count on your judgment if I’m going to bring you on as an employee.”
I gasped. She bit back a smile.
“Seriously?” I had hoped this would happen but knew Teacher preferred to keep her staff small. According to Jeremiah, the only reason he’d been brought on was to organize Wisewood’s finances. He claimed Teacher didn’t even like him that much—the disarray of her bookkeeping was that bad.
She pointed at my clipboard. “You practically are one already. I think it’s time to make it official.”
My head spun. “So I would live here . . .”
“Indefinitely. You won’t have to leave when your six months are up. You won’t have an income but you’ll get a free room, free meals, free course work. No more worrying about taxes and the rest of the government’s headaches. We’ll help with the student loan. We’re here for you.” She squeezed my knee.
I considered what I’d be leaving behind: happy hours with my coworkers, walks through Central Park, mirrors, the internet, Domino’s at two a.m. When I came here, I never intended to stay.
I had spent the past weeks reimagining my career. Maybe the key was avoiding office gigs. I thought I’d like working outside or with animals. I’d toyed with moving to Colorado or Wyoming. I could become a nature guide, host white-water rafting trips. When I’d mentioned my ideas to Teacher, she’d told me the world beyond Wisewood wouldn’t care about my Maximized Self. No matter where I moved or what job I took, they would try to change me. At the time, I was deflated. But she could’ve been grooming me for this job all along.
Teacher’s face had turned stony. “If you’re not interested, I’ll find someone else.” She gripped my knee. When I squeaked in pain, she released me and shifted away.
I had finally found peace. I’d met people who understood me. But I still hadn’t apologized to Nat for treating her like the bad guy after Mom’s death—before it too, if I was being honest. At the very least, I’d have to let her know I wouldn’t be returning to New York in January. Could I live here for years to come? For the rest of my life?
“Don’t make me ask again.”
I would make amends with Nat. I could always leave Wisewood if I changed my mind. I didn’t have to stay forever.
My eyes welled. “I’m shocked is all.”