“Excuse me,” I say loudly, interrupting him, as I come toward the desk. I make sure to walk a little funny, just for show. Tack and I can laugh about it later. “Excuse me,” I repeat, a little louder. Too loud for the space.
“You’ll have to hold on,” the receptionist says to me, picking up the phone and angling her chin away from the receiver. She turns immediately back to Tack. “I’m so sorry. You have no idea how embarrassed—”
“Don’t be sorry,” he says. “Just get somebody down here who can help me.”
“Hey.” I lean forward over the counter. “Look, I’m talking to you.”
“Ma’am.” She’s losing it. She’s probably shitting bricks, thinking she’s going to get the whole clinic shut down because she screwed up the review dates. “I’m in the middle of something. If you have an appointment, you’re going to have to sign in and take a seat in the—”
“I don’t have an appointment.” I’m really putting it on, now, practically yelling. Tack does a good job of looking disgusted. “And I won’t wait. I got this rash, okay? It’s driving me crazy. I can’t hardly even sit.”
I undo my belt and start to hitch my pants down over my waist, like I’m about to moon her. Tack draws back with a noise of disgust, and the nurse slams down the phone and practically hurls herself around the desk.
“This way, ma’am, please.” She clamps a hand on my arm. I can smell the sweat underneath her perfume. She pilots me quickly out of the reception area—away from Dr. Howard Rivers, medical inspector, where I can’t do any harm, where I won’t embarrass the clinic any further—and through a set of double doors into a long white hallway. I feel a hitch of excitement in my chest, a slight break, like I always do when a plan is going off like we expected. With my free hand I fumble in my right jeans pocket for the small glass bottle, uncork it with a thumb, let the contents spill out into the rag stuffed in my pocket. Acetone, bleach, and heat.
Not as good as manufactured chloroform, but good enough.
“The doctor will be in to see you shortly,” she says, huffing from the exertion of piloting me forward. She practically shoves me into a small examination room and stands, breasts heaving against her uniform, with one hand on the doorknob. The hall behind her is empty. “If you’ll just wait here . . .”
“I hate waiting,” I say, and step forward, bringing the rag to her face.
She is very heavy as she goes down.
Untie me, and I’ll help you.
The words were stuck in my mind, a taunt and a promise. I didn’t think I could trust him. And it would be a betrayal—of Grandma, and of the other homesteaders who had taken in Blue and me. If I got caught, if the Thief screwed us over, I’d have to pay for it. Maybe I’d get tied up in the sickroom, waiting for the group to decide what should be done with me.
But Blue wasn’t getting any better.
I was so afraid—afraid of everything back then, just a skinny little shit who’d made a snap-dash decision to run away and who had no idea what she was doing. My dad had always told me I was stupid in the head, pathetic, one of the losers. And back then, maybe he was right.
I knew the Thief wasn’t afraid. I could just tell. Wasn’t afraid of me or the other homesteaders, wasn’t afraid of dying.
When Blue started gurgling and rasping in her sleep—then went ten seconds at a time, still, not breathing, before taking in a gasp of air—I stole a knife from the kitchen and brought it back to the sickroom. My hands were shaking. I remember, because I kept thinking of my mom’s hands, rattling her silverware, fluttering like birds, a wild, frantic part of her. I wondered if she’d been thinking of me at all since I’d left.
It was late. Everyone else was asleep—now that the Thief had been caught, even Gray didn’t feel the need to patrol.
The Thief’s smile was like a sickle blade in the dark. I squatted down in front of him.
“You promised,” I told him. “You promised to help me.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said. I didn’t like the sound of his voice—like he was laughing at me—but I cut him loose anyway, feeling sick the whole time, knowing Blue would die otherwise. Might die just the same.
He stood up, groaning a little. I hadn’t realized how tall he was. I hadn’t seen him except sitting or lying down since he was brought in. I took a step backward, flinching, when he raised his arms above his head.
His smile vanished, turned into something harder. “You don’t trust me, do you?” he said.
I shook my head. He extended his hand for the knife, and after a second’s hesitation, I gave it to him.
“I’ll be back by noon,” he said. My heart was beating hard in my throat, a rhythm saying, Please, please. I’m counting on you. He jerked his chin in Blue’s direction. “Keep her alive until then.”
Then he was gone, moving soundlessly through the darkened halls, vanishing into the shadows. And I sat holding Blue, with terror sitting like a black mist in my chest, and waited.